The realm of eternity pulsed with a dull, endless hum. Hine could almost time her breaths to it now. The loops had stripped her of any sense of ordinary time, yet she still counted her progress in ways only she understood. Every failure was a mark. Every death was a lesson. Every return to the blank void where her consciousness reformed was another chance to do better.
Ronova had stopped being patient.
The demon lord's sharp voice filled the chamber as fire erupted around them, licking at the black stone floor that had seen Hine collapse a thousand times.
"You think this is progress?" Ronova snapped, her crimson eyes burning with something volatile. "You hesitate. You question. That hesitation will get you erased in the real world."
Hine rose from the ground, legs trembling but eyes steady. Her palms were scorched, clothes burned away in patches, but she did not flinch. She stared at the woman towering over her, the one who had become her tormentor and, unwillingly, her teacher.
"I didn't hesitate," Hine said quietly, though her voice cracked. "I calculated wrong."
Ronova laughed, sharp and hollow. "Calculated wrong? You calculated wrong because you froze. Your instincts are still human. Weak."
"I'm not weak," Hine replied. She hated how her words felt heavy with exhaustion. She wanted to believe them, and yet a small, stubborn part of her knew Ronova saw through every crack in her armor.
The flames died down, replaced by a crushing silence. Ronova circled her slowly, her heels clicking like a metronome on the obsidian surface.
"You are improving," she admitted reluctantly. "But not enough. You think endurance is victory, little one. It isn't. You can endure pain until eternity crumbles and still fail when it matters."
Hine's throat tightened. She thought of Silent Soul's fleeting words. She thought of Istaroth's quiet, almost amused observation. She thought of Naberius and the shimmering threads of futures that had burned themselves into her memory.
And then, unbidden, she thought of Mavuika's voice, soft but unrelenting, urging her forward.
Her jaw tightened. "Then I'll learn faster," she said.
Ronova stopped pacing. Something in her expression flickered, as though she had not expected the child to keep pushing like this.
"Do you even know what you are fighting for?" the demon asked, her voice sharp but edged with curiosity now.
Hine hesitated, not out of fear, but because the answer still eluded her. Every loop was meant to prepare her for something she barely understood. Every death whispered that she was far from ready.
"I don't know," she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "Not yet."
Ronova's glare deepened, but it was not anger that filled her eyes. It was something else. Something almost dangerous.
"Then maybe that is why you keep failing," Ronova said. "Purpose sharpens the blade. You are a dull edge trying to cut through eternity."
Hine did not argue. She simply stood there, silent, absorbing the words, letting them settle somewhere deep. There would be time later to untangle them.
The next loop began without warning.
The floor split open beneath her feet, dragging her into a chasm of fire and ash. The heat bit at her skin as she landed hard, her vision already blurring from the sudden shift. She heard the roar of some unseen creature in the distance, the one that Ronova used when she wanted to force instinctual reactions instead of calculated ones.
Move. That was all her mind screamed.
She ran, feet pounding against the broken ground, every breath like swallowing knives. Behind her, the growl of the creature grew louder. She pushed off the ground, sliding under a jagged arch of rock just as claws slammed into the earth where she had been standing a heartbeat before.
She was faster this time. Sharper.
But the creature was relentless, and so was Ronova's voice echoing through the realm.
"Think faster, Hine. Anticipate. Adapt."
The beast lunged again, and this time she pivoted, the movement smoother than it had been in hundreds of loops. She slid past its massive claws, her body moving like it finally understood what survival demanded.
She reached the ridge overlooking the abyss and stopped. The ground trembled beneath her feet. She turned, just in time to see the creature's glowing eyes fix on her.
Fear coiled in her stomach, but she forced it down, her breathing steady even as the beast charged. At the last moment, she dove sideways, rolling against the uneven terrain as the creature barreled past her, skidding dangerously close to the edge.
For a moment, just a fraction of a second, she thought she had won.
Then the beast swung its tail and sent her flying. She hit the edge, the sharp rock cutting into her skin as gravity pulled her down into the endless void below.
The familiar silence of death came next.
Darkness. Cold. Then the quiet hum of eternity as her body reformed in the void. She opened her eyes, staring blankly into the infinite black above her.
Ronova stood there, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
"You lasted longer," the demon said, her tone neutral. "But you still lost."
Hine sat up slowly, her body aching despite the fact that none of it was real. She flexed her hands, clenched her fists, and let out a sharp breath.
"I'll do it again," she said, steady and sure. "Until I don't lose."
Ronova tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. For the first time, there was no mocking smile, no sharp bite in her words. Only a strange, quiet acknowledgment.
"You never stop," she said softly. "Why?"
Hine didn't look at her. She stared into the void, as though searching for answers written in the stars she could not see.
"Because stopping means it wins," she said finally. "And I can't let it win."
Ronova said nothing for a long time. She simply watched, the tension in the space between them thick enough to press against Hine's skin.
When she finally spoke, her voice was low. "Then do better."
The next loop began again, faster this time, and Hine ran into it without fear.
Hours. Days. Years. She could no longer tell how much time passed as the loops continued. Each death blurred into the next, each rebirth another chance to claw her way closer to survival. Her body adapted. Her mind sharpened. The hesitations that once cost her her life bled away with each repetition.
And Ronova watched it all.
Frustration flickered more often in the demon's expression now. Not because Hine was failing, but because she refused to break. Every time Ronova thought she had pushed the girl too far, that this would be the loop where she begged for an end, Hine came back standing taller, eyes colder, movements sharper.
"You should be screaming," Ronova muttered during one quiet moment between loops. "Begging for release. You are a child. This is not normal."
Hine wiped the sweat from her brow, her chest rising and falling with measured breaths. She looked at Ronova, her expression unreadable, and said nothing.
And that silence, more than anything, infuriated Ronova.
"You think this strength will save you," the demon said, stepping closer, her voice sharp. "It won't. There are things out there that will crush you like you are nothing."
"Then I'll keep getting stronger," Hine replied simply.
The loops swallowed her again, and the training continued.
Somewhere beyond the endless cycles, in the quiet corners of eternity, Istaroth watched with silent curiosity, her presence brushing faintly against the fabric of time. The ruler of time said nothing, but her attention sharpened, tracing the steady rhythm of the stubborn child who refused to yield.
And though Ronova would never admit it aloud, there was a growing, grudging respect in the way her eyes lingered on Hine with every loop.
Because even in the face of eternity, Hine did not break.
Not yet.
Not ever.