Chapter 102: Use What You Have

Liam sent Megan a short reply and placed the phone facedown beside his notebook. Alexandra waited until he looked up before turning the page toward him. The lamp had been running since before he arrived, and the readings beneath the first set were close enough that he checked the times twice. She had taken them at regular intervals, leaving space beside each for anything unusual. Most of that space remained empty.

“It hasn’t weakened?”

“Not enough for this test to show it.”

“And the connections?”

“Still fine. I checked.”

Liam leaned closer without touching anything. He had wanted something impressive from the cell, a result that made the reward feel as expensive as its name. Alexandra had given him a lamp that stayed on and a page showing what happened while it did. Looking at the numbers, he realized that was already more useful than another evening spent imagining cars, factories, or whatever else he thought they might eventually power.

“How long are you keeping it running?”

“Until I need to leave. I’m not leaving it connected overnight.”

“Then finish this test. We’ll arrange somewhere you can work without having to pack everything away each time.”

Alexandra looked at him.

“A workroom. Not a factory.”

“I heard you the first time.”

“You were looking at the empty wall like you wanted to buy the building.”

Liam smiled and sat back. They spent the next hour going through the draft arrangement that had arrived after their meeting. There were points Alexandra wanted explained and others Liam had barely noticed until she asked about them. They marked those instead of signing around the questions. By the time she disconnected the cell, they had sent their comments back and agreed which equipment belonged on the first purchase list. Nobody needed another recorder, and nobody needed an office with a receptionist before they had a finished product.

He put the cell away while Alexandra copied the readings. The screwdriver returned to its cradle at his instruction, moving around the open notebook without knocking the pen off the edge. She noticed the improvement, but he only told her they had practiced. There was no reason to explain the green panel or what had changed inside his head that morning.

Outside, he called Clara and found that she was still with Granny.

“Take your time. I’m getting a ride back.”

“You’re not going to the warehouse?”

“No.”

“You answered quickly.”

“I knew the question was coming.”

She made him promise to eat, then ended the call. Liam stood beneath the entrance light while waiting for his car, his injured wrist resting against his stomach. The afternoon had gone well. Megan was preparing for the audition, Alexandra had finished something measurable, and he had acquired a skill he could already use. Yet he still needed to think before opening a door because he might reach with the wrong hand.

‘This is getting fucking old.’

At the apartment, he put his bag down and took out the Divine Recovery Elixir.

He had considered it several times since Sunday. Each time, the same thought had stopped him. What if something worse happened afterward? It was his only bottle. Once he used it, there wouldn’t be another sitting in storage simply because he regretted the decision. Liam turned the container in his good hand, then looked at the brace. He had already tried protecting someone while injured. Jim had been manageable. Lin would not have been.

Saving it had a cost too.

‘Red. Will this restore the injury in my wrist?’

[The Divine Recovery Elixir restores physical injuries and depleted mental energy.]

‘Including this one?’

[Yes.]

Liam placed it on the table and called Clara. She answered with a warning that she had already ordered food, apparently expecting him to complain about dinner. He let her finish before explaining what he had decided. There was a short silence, followed by the sound of her moving away from the others.

“You’re taking it?”

“Yeah. I’ve spent two days saving it in case I get hurt while already walking around hurt.”

“Will it fix the wrist completely?”

“That’s what it says.”

“Then take it. And don’t decide that means you should go find Lin.”

“I’m staying here.”

She made him keep the call connected. Liam opened the elixir, drank it, and placed the empty container beside the brace. For a moment, he felt nothing except the liquid passing down his throat. Then warmth spread through his chest and down his injured arm, reaching the swollen joint with a sensation that made him stop breathing halfway through a sentence.

“Liam?”

“I’m here.”

The ache eased first. He could feel the pressure beneath the brace changing, the tightness retreating until the support no longer sat against his wrist in quite the same way. Liam unfastened it slowly and laid his arm on the table. The marks left by Lin’s fingers faded while he watched. He turned his palm upward, bent his fingers, and waited for the sharp pain that had followed the movement since the warehouse.

Nothing.

He closed his hand.

Still nothing.

[Divine Recovery Elixir consumed.]

[Physical recovery complete.]

[Mental energy restored.]

Liam read the messages, then looked at the empty container. It had worked exactly as promised. No bargain, no hidden condition, no need to explain what kind of recovery he meant. He picked up the brace with his restored hand and set it farther away.

“Well?” Clara asked.

“It worked.”

“Move it.”

“I am.”

“Don’t lift the sofa to prove it.”

He laughed, and the relief in his own voice surprised him.

“I was thinking of opening a jar.”

“Start there.”

Clara came home an hour later with dinner and examined his wrist before taking off her shoes. She pressed lightly where the swelling had been, turned his hand over, and made him move it while she watched. Liam let her. She had seen the hand go white in Lin’s grip and spent far more time worrying about it than he had wanted to acknowledge.

Finally, she released him.

“Better.”

“Much.”

“Good. Carry the food.”

He did, using both hands.

After dinner, Liam called Erto. He asked about Megan first and learned that the copies of the papers had been provided to the people handling her complaint. There was no convenient announcement that Rudolf had been arrested or that the orphanage had changed hands. The staff could still be reached, Granny was staying at the hotel, and Erto’s people were checking the financial claims rather than accepting the totals Rudolf had written down.

Then Liam asked for something else.

“I need a place to practice.”

“You have one.”

“I need someone who can tell me when what I’m doing is stupid.”

Clara looked up from the sofa.

“I’m sitting right here.”

Erto heard her and laughed quietly.

“What kind of practice?”

“Moving while controlling the cape and screwdriver. No wrestling. No contest with Lin.”

“What happened to your wrist?”

“It’s recovered.”

The silence lasted just long enough for Liam to know the older man had noticed how little time had passed. Erto didn’t ask for an explanation over the phone. He gave Liam a time for the following afternoon and told him to bring Clara if she was available. Liam agreed, then put the phone down before she could ask whether he had forgotten the conversation they had just had.

“I heard the whole thing,” she said.

“I know.”

“And I’m coming.”

“I know that too.”

The following afternoon, Erto was waiting inside the warehouse when they arrived. Liam had attended class first, eaten properly, and brought the notebook containing his earlier attempts at Side Step. He placed it beside the wall rather than opening it immediately. Erto wore ordinary clothes and held a short padded training stick. There were several empty cardboard boxes on the floor, a folded mat, and two chairs positioned farther apart than Liam expected.

“Show me your wrist.”

Liam held out his hand. Erto examined the movement, then released it without commenting on the absence of the marks.

“What do you want to improve?”

“Keeping control when someone gets close.”

“Then don’t start with someone getting close.”

He pointed toward the boxes. Liam sent the screwdriver across the room, letting it settle inside the first one before calling it back. Erto watched without interrupting. On the next attempt, he asked Liam to walk toward the farther chair while the tool moved in the opposite direction. That was easy enough. The third attempt included a question about his classes, which Liam answered while recalling the screwdriver into his hand.

Erto nodded once.

“Now use the cape.”

Liam rose a short distance from the floor. He kept the movement slow, passed beside the chair, and sent the screwdriver toward a box as he changed direction. The improved coordination made the two actions easier to separate. He didn’t need to stop himself in the air before recalling the tool, and for several seconds everything worked well enough that he began to smile.

Then Erto lifted the training stick into the screwdriver’s path.

Liam pulled the tool aside.

His own movement continued.

The chair struck his knee.

Clara caught its back before it fell, and Liam lowered himself immediately. He stared at the chair, then toward Erto, who was standing well outside the path he had intended to take. The older man hadn’t attacked him. He had moved one object into the space Liam had already decided was clear.

‘That was embarrassing.’

“You watched the tool,” Erto said.

“I noticed.”

“After hitting the chair.”

Liam moved the chair back himself. On the second attempt, he left more space and slowed before sending the screwdriver across. Erto changed the obstruction again. This time Liam stopped both movements, checked his position, and continued. It was less impressive and considerably more useful.

They repeated it until Liam could change direction without turning every correction into a sudden pull. The screwdriver remained blunt, the cape kept him close to the floor, and Erto never needed to strike him. Sometimes Clara moved a box. Sometimes Erto told him to return before he reached the chair. Liam learned quickly that a clear instruction could still be a bad instruction if he gave it without checking where he was going.

The skill helped him carry out decisions.

It didn’t make every decision clever.

After several rounds, Erto put the stick down and told him to rest. Liam recalled the screwdriver, sat beside Clara, and accepted the water she offered. He had recovered his mental energy the night before, but the practice was using it again. There was no reason to spend all of it proving he could move between two chairs.

“Better than last time?” Clara asked.

“Nobody tried to remove my hand.”

“I meant the practice.”

“Yeah. Better.”

Erto pulled the other chair closer and sat facing him.

“Tell me about Lin.”

Liam lowered the bottle. He had expected the question eventually, but hearing it after an ordinary exercise made it harder to dismiss. He described the agreed round, Lin’s speed, the grip, and the moment Clara called the stop. He kept Red and the other system out of it. Whatever Erto suspected about his equipment, Liam wasn’t repeating the mistake of offering information nobody needed in order to help him.

“He wants to beat me,” Liam finished. “I’m not giving him another arranged opportunity.”

“Does he have a reason to approach you anyway?”

“Yes.”

Erto looked at Clara, who nodded.

“Then you need to understand something. You’re practicing against the version you remember from training.”

“I saw him stop holding back.”

“Did you?”

Liam didn’t answer immediately. The warehouse round had felt brutally fast, but Lin had still agreed not to strike his head or throat. He hadn’t drawn the sword. He had been trying to hold Liam inside a square long enough to satisfy a condition, not end the fight as quickly as possible.

His mouth tightened.

Erto stood and picked up the padded stick.

“Stay seated.”

Liam watched him return to the other side of the nearest box. There was enough distance that he felt comfortable until he caught himself using that word. He set the bottle down and kept his feet clear of the chair. Clara moved away at Erto’s gesture.

“If you want me to stop, say so.”

“All right.”

Liam gave the screwdriver a clear instruction and felt the cape stir behind him.

Erto moved.

The padded end touched his shoulder before either item had completed its first movement. There was no pain. That somehow made the result worse. Liam stared at the stick, then up at the old man holding it.

Erto withdrew his hand.

“Again?”

Liam stood, moved the chair out of his way, and picked up his notebook.

“Yeah,” he said. “But this time, show me what I missed.”