The days began to lose their names.
I woke up before the sun, my body heavy and my mind already awake, as if rest had become only an interval between two different kinds of exhaustion. The first thing I felt wasn't pain. It was stiffness. Hard shoulders. Tense forearms. Legs firm like wood. Scarlet said that was a good sign. The body was adapting to what I demanded of it.
We left while it was still dark.
The path to the Rank S dungeon no longer felt long. I knew every curve of the trail, every crooked tree, every stretch where the ground sank a little more. The cold morning air helped keep my mind clear. Scarlet barely spoke during that walk. She said that conversation before training weakens attention.
Inside the dungeon, time ceased to exist.
The fights were no longer about defeating monsters. They were about posture, decision, and reading. Scarlet didn't let me repeat mistakes. When I hesitated, she pointed it out. When I used too much force, she corrected me. When I won too quickly, she said I had won the wrong way.
"You still fight like someone who wants to finish quickly. Not like someone who wants to survive for a long time."
Those sentences began to echo in my head even when she wasn't speaking.
The days stacked up. Combat after combat. Short rest. Combat again. I began to notice that my breathing changed first, then my posture, then the way I held the sword. It was no longer brute strength. It was economy of movement.
At some point, I stopped counting how many times I entered and left that dungeon.
When we returned to the city, it was already night.
And that was where I could truly feel the passage of time.
The mansion was never silent.
On the first night, I found Liriel sitting at the living room table, surrounded by papers and notes. Magical symbols were scribbled across scattered sheets. She didn't even notice when I came in. She was too focused, repeating movements with her fingers in the air as if memorizing the construction of a new spell.
Elara was in the backyard.
She held her bow even in the dark, practicing posture without shooting arrows. Just the position of her feet, the firmness of her arms, the controlled breathing. She repeated the same movement dozens of times, as if engraving it into her own body.
Vespera was leaning against the wall, watching the two of them in silence. She didn't look tired. She looked attentive. Like someone who absorbs everything around her before acting.
Rai'kanna came to me when she saw me enter.
"You're different too," she said, analyzing me from head to toe.
I didn't answer. I just sat down.
The next day, it was different.
Liriel could already perform the spell she had practiced the night before. A small sphere of energy formed in her hands with precision. No trembling. No flaw.
Elara no longer repeated posture. She shot. Fast, steady arrows, always at the same point on the target.
Vespera wasn't just observing anymore. She trained short movements with her dagger, discreet, almost imperceptible.
Rai'kanna spoke with the sorceress of the Demi-dragons outside, receiving instructions with an attention I had rarely seen in her.
The following days continued like that.
I left early. Came back late. And every night, something about them was different.
Liriel began controlling two spells at the same time.
Elara started hitting moving targets.
Vespera no longer made small movements. She disappeared from my field of vision for seconds, even inside the room.
Rai'kanna no longer seemed to be learning. She seemed to be refining.
The mansion had become a second training ground.
No one said it out loud. But we all felt it.
Fatigue stopped being something we complained about. It became routine.
One night, I sat at the table to eat and realized my hands no longer trembled after training. Before, I could barely hold the utensils. Now, my muscles were tired, but steady.
Scarlet was right.
The body was learning.
And so were they.
One day, when I returned, I found Liriel and Rai'kanna discussing a spell with the sorceress. It wasn't a discussion born of doubt. It was a discussion about improvement.
Elara trained longer shots, adjusting angle and strength with almost mathematical precision.
Vespera moved through the room without making any sound at all. Not even the wooden floor betrayed her steps.
I stood at the doorway watching.
I realized something I hadn't noticed before.
We weren't just training.
We were transforming.
The conversations at night also changed.
Before, we talked about adventures, about things we saw, about funny situations. Now, we talked about mistakes, about technique, about control, about efficiency.
No one was training out of obligation.
We were training because we understood the reason.
The Fifth General had made that far too clear.
On a specific night, Rai'kanna sat beside me.
"I can feel it. We're becoming truly strong."
I nodded.
She smiled in a different way. It wasn't excitement. It was confidence.
The following days passed even faster.
I no longer felt the dungeon as a hostile place. I felt it as a field of study.
Scarlet began speaking less during fights. That was a sign I was making fewer mistakes.
At home, the four of them no longer looked like beginners in training. They looked like experienced adventurers sharpening their skills.
The mansion at night had energy.
A silent energy. Focused. Determined.
When I realized it, many days had passed without anyone mentioning rest.
Because, somehow, everyone understood that this was necessary.
On one of the last nights in that sequence, I sat on the front steps and watched the dark sky.
I heard the sound of an arrow being fired in the backyard.
I heard Liriel reciting magical words in a low voice.
I heard Vespera's light step passing by me without me noticing when she approached.
I heard Rai'kanna talking to the sorceress about fine energy adjustments.
I closed my eyes for a moment.
For the first time since the fight against the Fifth General, I didn't feel that sensation of having barely survived.
I felt something else.
Preparation.
I opened my eyes.
The house was alive.
And so were we.