"So, what are your plans now?"
Nyx asked, his voice casual—but his gaze sharp as ever.
Across from him, Theo and Reina sat side by side, the early morning light casting soft shadows through the manor window. The question hung in the air for a beat before Theo finally answered.
"I'm staying."
His tone was calm, almost too calm—like he'd rehearsed this in his head a hundred times.
"I've got no interest in becoming the family head. Never did."
Samantha raised an eyebrow. "Won't that cause problems back home?"
She understood what stepping away from power meant. It wasn't just rebellion—it was abandonment in the eyes of most noble houses.
Theo gave a small shrug, the corners of his mouth twitching into something close to a smile.
"My father will understand... eventually. I'll leave him a message. And truth be told, I'm not really losing anything by staying here."
His eyes flicked to Nyx for just a second—quiet resolve shining behind them.
Nyx turned to the other side of the table.
"And you, Reina?"
Reina had been absentmindedly poking at a peeled fruit on her plate. She blinked.
"Huh? Me?"
Then, without missing a beat:
"I'm staying too. Already told my father. Home's boring as hell."
Classic Reina—cut through the noise with a dagger of honesty.
Nyx didn't say anything in return. He just smiled faintly to himself, the kind of smile that didn't need thanks spoken aloud.
They're staying.
Not because they had to. Not out of duty. But because they chose to.
And that mattered more than they'd ever know.
The doors creaked open, and Valon stepped inside, Ruby trailing a few steps behind.
"Morning," he said, nodding.
"So... what's the plan? You said it's not time yet."
"It's not," Nyx said, standing up. "Right now? We prepare."
Valon raised an eyebrow. "Prepare how?"
Nyx threw on his coat, fingers brushing the fabric like he'd done it a thousand times.
"You've all grown fast—faster than most. But power without control? That's just a ticking bomb. We train. Not just bodies, but minds. You need to move like your strength was always there."
He glanced at Valon, then Ruby, then Theo and Reina. And finally, his eyes rested on the two anomalies sitting farther back—Rhea and Luna.
Rhea met his gaze calmly. Luna just looked annoyed.
Two monsters, Nyx thought.
And I don't even know how deep the rabbit hole goes with them.
Rhea had completely bypassed [Origin] the first time they met. Even now, something about her made his instincts itch. Luna, on the other hand, had barely scratched the surface of her potential—and she didn't even know it yet.
"Time to adapt," Nyx said with a faint smirk.
"Let's see what you're all really made of."
He turned on his heel and headed for the door.
Outside, the training hall awaited—an entire complex the size of a village.
A forge for monsters.
---
"Ready?"
Nyx unsheathed his sword, the blade catching the training hall's torchlight.
Across from him, Rhea raised her own weapon in reply. She didn't speak—just gave a silent nod.
And then they moved.
CLAAANK!
Steel clashed in a sharp burst of sparks, echoing through the vast training grounds.
Blades met once, twice—then Rhea vanished.
She reappeared behind him in a blink, sword slicing through the air where Nyx had just been.
But he was already gone.
"Nice trick," Nyx's voice echoed behind her, casual and calm.
"Illusion magic, huh? I see you've figured out how to bend perception and manipulate sight. But—"
Thwack!
He appeared behind her and tapped the back of her head—not hard, but precise. Rhea froze, momentarily paralyzed.
"You're still leaking presence and killing intent," he added.
"Work on that."
He offered his hand. Rhea accepted it quietly, rising to her feet without a word. Her expression was unreadable—but the tightness in her jaw betrayed frustration.
"Don't worry," Nyx said, softer this time.
"We've got time. I'll help you fix what you lack. So... cheer up, yeah?"
Rhea let out a barely audible hum—"Mmm."
It wasn't agreement. It wasn't refusal. It was just Rhea.
Nyx knew how she operated—obsessive, relentless. Once she set her eyes on something, she wouldn't stop until she reached it.
But he also knew this wasn't enough. Not yet.
He turned toward the side of the arena, locking eyes with the next problem child.
"Well then... how about you, Witchling?"
His smirk widened. "I'm curious—how powerful is the apprentice of the Sylvia?"
Luna cracked her neck and stepped forward, her grin razor-sharp. The murderous glint in her eyes wasn't subtle.
"Honestly? I've been dying to let off some steam. And I'm sick of hearing Rhea talk about you like you're the second coming of the gods."
She rolled her eyes. "Every damn sentence is 'Nyx this, Nyx that.'"
"What can I say?" Nyx shrugged shamelessly. "I'm kind of a big deal."
"Narcissist."
Luna lunged.
With a flick of her wrist, flaming arrows burst into life in front of her. But it didn't stop there—ice, wind, and lightning joined the barrage, forming a swirling array of quadra-elemental destruction that shot toward him like a storm unleashed.
"Quadra-spellcasting?" Nyx's eyes narrowed slightly, but his grin widened.
"Didn't see that one coming."
He dodged effortlessly, weaving through the elemental barrage. A few he batted aside with a conjured earthen shield, crumbling pieces flying off with every impact.
Then his smile twisted—maniacal, teasing, dangerous.
With a single gesture, massive fire arrows formed behind him—twice the size of Luna's, pulsing with heat. Each arrow looked unstable, like it might explode on contact.
They launched at her in a volley.
Luna's eyes widened. "W-Wait—what the fu—"
She stumbled back, flustered, arms flying up to cast a barrier.
But right before the first arrow struck—they vanished.
Just... blinked out of existence.
Nyx sheathed his sword with a sharp metallic click and walked past her without looking back.
"That right there?" he said.
"That's your biggest weakness."
He paused just beside her.
"You lose composure too fast. The greatest weapon for a mage isn't power—it's clarity. Calm. Without it, you're dead before the first spell finishes casting."
Luna stood frozen, fists clenched, face flushed with rage and embarrassment.
"Y-You bastard! You launched a freaking death barrage at me—how the hell am I supposed to stay calm?!"
Her voice cracked as frustration bled through. "I'm not made of stone!"
Nyx didn't even flinch. "Not my problem."
He kept walking.
"The enemy won't wait for you to catch your breath. And they sure as hell won't go easy on you just because you haven't seen big spells before."
Behind him, Luna let out a small sniffle—part rage, part humiliation.
"Give her a break, man." Valon chimed in from the sidelines, arms crossed. "That freakshow barrage of yours could scare off demons like they are children."
Nyx just smirked.
"Exactly. So she better get used to it."
---
Soon, the real training began. And with it, the screaming. Lots of it.
This wasn't training. This was torture, gift-wrapped in the name of improvement and shoved down their throats by none other than Nyx—the sadistic, sword-swinging bastard who apparently believed that pain was the greatest of teachers.
And gods, did he teach.
With the patience of a war-hardened butcher, Nyx personally oversaw each of their sessions. He pointed out flaws not with gentle words or helpful tips, but by slapping the mistake straight out of their necks or planting them into the dirt with expert precision. The hits weren't lethal—yet—but they carried the sting of truth, the kind that drilled itself into memory and stayed there.
Even Ruby wasn't spared.
The girl who barely spoke, who moved like a whisper and hit like a falling star—yeah, even she got knocked flat when she left her flank open during a feint. Nyx didn't even look like he put effort into it. Just swept her off her feet and muttered, "Sloppy footwork. Fix it."
She didn't cry. She didn't protest. But her eyes said everything—and it was all directed at him like daggers made of betrayal.
But if she thought she had it bad, then Theo might as well have died.
The poor bastard had signed up for this willingly. He wanted to get stronger. He'd asked to be trained personally. He'd even written a damn letter to his father, choosing this path with his own hands.
Now he regretted everything.
Lying on his back, sword knocked from his grip, face smeared with dirt and dignity long gone, Theo peeked up at Nyx—who was calmly twirling his blade like this was just a casual stroll in the park.
The look Nyx gave him said it all:
"You wanted to learn? I'm reforging you from the bones up."
Theo didn't speak right away. He just turned his head toward Valon, who was leaning on a training dummy with all the smugness of a man who wasn't currently in pain.
With tears welling in his eyes, Theo whispered, "Is it too late to change my mind and go home?"
Valon chuckled without an ounce of sympathy. "Sorry, no refunds. You already left your will back at the manor, remember?"
He was still grinning when it happened.
Without warning, a brutal slap landed squarely on the back of Valon's neck, loud enough to echo.
His body tensed in shock as he staggered forward, hand instinctively reaching for the spot.
Nyx stood behind him, eyes sharp and voice colder than iron left in snow.
"Do you want me to show you how to swing next, or are you just here to commentate?"
Valon clutched his neck, wincing from the stinging pain. He turned slowly, eyes wide with disbelief.
"You absolute demon! That actually hurt! Are you trying to kill me or traumatize me?!"
Nyx raised an eyebrow. "Yes."
Valon cracked.
He dropped to his knees, letting the tears fall freely as he wailed like a broken soldier mid-battle.
"I didn't sign up for this! I was just supposed to help! Not become a victim!"
But none of it stopped Nyx.
Not Reina. Not Luna. Not Samantha. No one got special treatment.
Every misstep earned a precise correction. Every lapse in focus brought a punishing slap to the neck that rang like a death knell. Even Reina, usually composed to a fault, got knocked off her feet when she hesitated during a counter.
Luna, already furious from earlier, screamed each time she hit the ground, but Nyx didn't flinch. He just told her, flatly, to cast faster or die slower.
Samantha didn't cry. She gritted her teeth and took every hit with cold fury in her eyes. But even she couldn't completely hide the sting when Nyx called her posture "a disgrace to swords everywhere" and swept her legs mid-stance.
This wasn't a sparring match. It was a bloodless war—fought with humiliation, exhaustion, and resolve.
The only thing Nyx ever said between each beatdown was the same mantra, repeated like a curse:
"You want to get stronger? Then get used to this."
And when someone tried to argue—when Ruby, or Reina, or even Valon dared to protest—Nyx knocked them unconscious and dragged their limp bodies off the field, calling it "mandatory rest."
That was how their training began.
Not with encouragement. Not with lectures. But with tears, bruises, and the very real realization that they weren't even close to ready.
Nyx didn't train them to survive.
He was turning them into weapons.