I slumped to the ground with a quiet exhale, my legs folding beneath me like damp parchment. My arms hung limp, fingers twitching as the last dregs of mana fizzled out. This was not the good kind of tired. This was a deep exhaustion that had settled into my bones, having wrung out my mind, body, and spirit completely.
Arden did not seem to notice. Or perhaps he just did not care.
He paced a few steps away, a restless energy in his posture. It was not anxiety. He looked untroubled, but intensely focused and sharp, like a predator that had caught a scent. Seeing someone so eager to learn seemed to have motivated him, a rare spark of engagement for a man usually bored by battle, for whom this training was barely a warm up.
"You have done great," he said at last, his steps slowing as he stopped nearby. "I guess Elisabeth was not useless after all."
I tilted my head just enough to look at him, too drained for a proper glare. "What, did you think she would be? That is sort of rude."
He shook his head, a faint hint of amusement in the gesture. "That is not what I meant."
"I know," I murmured, managing a faint smirk. "Just felt like annoying you."
A long breath passed between us in the still, unreal air. The sky above remained a perfect, unmoving blue. There were no shadows, no sun, no moon. Just light without a source, and a floor that shimmered like star touched glass. I had no idea if it was morning or evening, or if time even mattered here.
"Won't the others start to worry?" I asked, rubbing the stiffness from my arms. "It feels like we have been in here for hours."
Arden knelt beside me, resting an elbow on his knee. "Time works differently here. Even if we spend days inside this space, only a few hours will pass outside. We were probably gone for an hour or two in the real world. It is kind of overpowered," he added, as casually as if describing a minor utility spell, "but it burns through mana fast."
I blinked slowly. "Huh. That is… neat."
I did not ask how he still looked perfectly fine if the spell was such a drain. I already knew the answer. A man like him probably had a bottomless well to draw from.
It made me wonder, though.
"Hey," I said after a pause, "what are your affinities, anyway?"
He did not hesitate. "Light, dark, wind, fire, lightning, and water. I have the highest affinity for dark magic."
I let out a small, tired sound, half a scoff, half a sigh. "Six affinities. Of course."
He gave a faint shrug. "That is just how it turned out."
"That is not an answer," I muttered.
"Sure it is," he said, not looking at me. "Some people are born with one. Some with two. Sometimes the world just breaks its own rules."
I blinked. "You are saying it is random?"
"I am saying… it happens," he replied, calm and unreadable. "Rare, but not impossible."
I narrowed my eyes. There was something too smooth in his delivery, like he was skimming over the important parts. But I was too tired to press.
"But does not that mean you have a lot of cores or something?"
"No. One core." He tapped the center of his chest. "Everyone has just one. Well, everyone except certain monsters."
I leaned back on my palms, frowning. "Then how does that work? Would not the core just split apart?"
"Think of it more like a mixture," he explained. "All the affinities are stirred together inside the same core. But one will always dominate. In my case, it is dark."
I looked down at my own hands. A single core. His could hold all that immense power, and mine had only just managed a single, fragile shield.
All of a sudden, the space around us shook. No, it rippled, as if the air itself had been struck.
I jolted upright, my breath catching as the walls of this dimension flickered. The glassy ground warped like water. Light bent wrong. Arden turned sharply, his movements suddenly precise and urgent, all traces of his lazy grace gone.
"The hell… that is not supposed to happen," he muttered, more to himself than to me.
His head turned slowly, scanning our surroundings like a wolf scenting blood. I could not see his eyes behind those glasses, but the tension in his frame was clear. Whatever was breaking in was not just an inconvenience. It was a threat.
Then I heard it.
A sound, jagged and broken, like a voice caught in the world's throat. Each syllable stuttered through space, less a sound and more a physical pressure, something ancient and wrong forcing its way through cracks in reality.
"F F F—found you~…"
A laugh followed. If it could be called that. It was soft, sweet, and utterly twisted. A joy that turned my stomach to ice.
And then the world changed.
The ground melted from shimmering glass to damp, green grass. The endless sky dimmed into pale blue streaked with clouds. Forests and mountains painted themselves onto the horizon, too sharp, too perfect, like a child's drawing of nature.
It looked like a world, but it felt like a lie.
I turned to Arden, my heart hammering against my ribs. "What the hell is going on?"
He did not answer immediately. Instead, he pulled a small glass vial from his coat and held it out. A potion. Pale green and fizzing gently. A restorative.
"You will need it," he said, his voice quiet but heavy with new weight. "Because someone strong enough to dominate my spell is here."
I stared at the vial, then at him. "You said that last time, too. Right before drugging me."
His expression did not change, but I saw the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth. Was it regret? Amusement? It was impossible to tell.
"You can trust me this time," he stated. "No dampening, no suppression. Just a boost. That is all."
I hesitated. The memory of the last potion, the way it smothered my pain and my memories, was still fresh. "You said that before, too."
"I mean it now." His voice was steady. "If you do not believe me, then do not drink it. But you will need your strength. I promise."
That final word hung in the air, layered with a strange sincerity. I did not know if it was real or just well practiced, but my fingers closed around the vial anyway. I downed it in one gulp. It tasted of mint, salt, and the sharp tang of impending regret. Anyone who could force Arden onto the defensive was far beyond anything I was ready for.
He raised his hand. Dark particles swirled around his fingers, condensing and folding in on themselves until they sharpened into the form of his black sword, the same blade that had cleaved through bandits like they were nothing.
"I am not very good at focusing on both protection and fighting," he said without looking at me, "so do not expect to be fully protected."
I scoffed. "Can not you just use that barrier spell you used on me when we first met?" I was not asking for a shield; I was pointing out what seemed like an obvious tactical option, a lifeline if everything went horribly wrong.
He paused, turning his head slightly as if remembering something obvious. "Would not that defeat the purpose of you doing things on your own?" he replied dryly. "I will figure something out if it gets too la—"
His words were cut short.
Something long, glowing, and impossibly fast struck him from the side. It hit with the force of a falling mountain, launching him through the newly formed trees. Wood splintered like glass in a series of sickening crashes that faded into the distance. He did not scream. He just vanished.
I could not move.
I stared at the devastation, my mind struggling to catch up. Some part of me expected him to walk back, brushing off bark with a smug comment about how that barely hurt.
But he did not.
The silence that followed was stretched taut, ready to snap.
Slowly, I turned.
It floated twenty paces away. Tall and humanoid, its form was carved from a seamless, pale white mineral that looked like polished marble. Veins of silver light pulsed through it with a slow, rhythmic light that defied the natural world. It was less a body and more a vessel, barely containing the immense presence within.
It had no face. Just a smooth, unmarked curve where a head should be.
But it saw me. Not with eyes, but with its sheer, oppressive existence. The space around it distorted, the air shimmering with a cold that seeped into my bones. The grass beneath it did not rustle; it bent away as if repelled. Dust and debris hung motionless in the air, defying gravity. Its silence was serene, its stillness absolute, and that blissful detachment was more terrifying than any rage.
I could not breathe.
This was no illusion. This thing was real, too real, and it was not supposed to be here. It was not just strong. It was inevitable.
I realized, with a cold clarity, how badly Arden had underestimated it. Or perhaps he had known, and simply had not bothered to warn me. Typical.
That single blow had flung him away like a rag doll. If it had hit me, there would be nothing left. No bones, no ash. Just… gone.
Of course. Of course it had to be me standing here. Why would my luck change now? Bandits and ogres, sandworms and cultists, losing everything not once but twice… and now this. A walking monument of stone and light, an entity whose very presence warped the world, acting on a whim I could never comprehend.
My breath came in shallow, uneven hitches. The edges of my vision shimmered with the pressure of sharing space with that entity. The world was holding its breath.
But the being did not move. Not yet.
Perhaps it was waiting. Perhaps my sheer, trembling terror was entertainment enough.
So I stood there, or remained upright, my knees locked, legs trembling violently. I was exhausted, drained, and utterly terrified.
And yet, I was still alive.
For now.
Time became untethered, a thread drifting in stagnant water. Arden was gone, perhaps buried in the wreckage. I did not even know if he could be unconscious. Was not he supposed to be nearly invincible?
A bitter ache settled in my chest, the quiet resignation of inevitability. Of course I would end up here again. Alone. Small. Facing the vast and uncaring.
But then I felt it, a reaction I did not expect. My Light affinity, the core of me that had first sparked in the plaza, did not recoil in fear. It stirred, as if recognizing something. The entity's radiant, blissful power was not dark or corrupt; it was something purer and far more alien, and my own light responded not with opposition, but with a strange, resonant hum. A faint, golden warmth sputtered to life in my palm. My shield, the spell I had forged in the plaza and again here, was not completely gone. Its light was dull, thin as frost, a fragile echo of my will.
But it had held. And now, in defiance of the terror that sought to paralyze me, it was trying to return.
That meant something.
I still did not know how to win. I did not know what this thing truly was, or if Arden would return, or if I would survive the next few seconds.
But for once, I was not completely helpless.
I had a spell.
I had something.
And as the golden light flickered defiantly around my fist, a silent answer to the entity's serene power, I knew one thing for certain.
If I had to die here, it would not be without trying.