Time stopped meaning anything.
Days blurred into bruises. Nights dissolved into exhaustion. The valley that had once felt like refuge became a silent witness to repeated failure.
One month.
Thirty days of training.
Thirty days of fighting Lunaria.
And thirty days of losing.
Every morning began the same way.
They would wake sore—backs stiff, legs trembling, mana channels aching as if scorched from the inside out. Even with the system's recovery assistance, the fatigue never fully vanished. Lunaria allowed rest, yes—but never comfort.
"Pain that disappears too easily teaches nothing," he had said.
Ash stopped counting how many times he had been thrown into the dirt.
Sometimes it was a palm to the chest.
Sometimes a flick of the wrist.
Sometimes Lunaria didn't even touch him—Ash would simply collapse, overwhelmed by pressure he couldn't perceive until it was already crushing him.
Overdrive became a daily nightmare.
Lunaria never warned them when it would activate.
One second, they would be sparring at a level they could almost follow.
The next—
The world fell behind.
Ash learned to recognize the signs too late: the way Lunaria's shadow sharpened, the subtle distortion in the air, the absolute silence that followed.
Then everything ended.
Every. Single. Time.
They adapted.
They changed tactics.
They failed anyway.
Kael pushed himself the hardest.
He tried to meet Overdrive head-on, forcing his body beyond safe limits, stacking enhancement skills until his muscles screamed and his vision bled red at the edges.
Once, he managed to hold Lunaria back for half a second.
Half a second was enough for Lunaria to disarm him, pin him to the ground, and say calmly, "You just shortened your lifespan."
Kael didn't try that approach again.
Riven shifted to strategy—layered feints, delayed attacks, misdirection so complex it would have dismantled most opponents before they realized they were already dead.
Lunaria walked through it like rain.
"You're thinking too much," Lunaria told him after dismantling the formation in three movements.
"Overdrive doesn't give you time to be clever."
Juno focused on control.
If he couldn't overpower Lunaria, he would bind him.
Suppress him.
Anchor him.
For a brief moment—just one heartbeat—his chains touched Lunaria during Overdrive.
Ash had never seen Juno look so hopeful.
Then the chains shattered.
Not cut.
Not broken.
They simply ceased to exist.
Juno dropped to one knee, staring at his empty hands in silence.
Ash tried everything else.
Speed. Concealment. Killing intent. Emotional detachment. Emotional overload.
Nothing worked.
The closer he got, the worse it felt.
During one fight near the end of the month, Ash finally managed to see Lunaria move during Overdrive.
It wasn't speed.
It wasn't teleportation.
It was certainty.
Lunaria moved as if the outcome was already decided, and the world merely adjusted itself to comply.
Ash attacked anyway.
Lunaria stepped aside and tapped Ash's forehead.
Ash woke up face-down in the dirt, lungs burning, ears ringing.
That night, they didn't speak.
They sat near the waterfall, staring into the mist, bodies aching in ways that went beyond muscle and bone.
"We're not improving," Riven said quietly.
"We are," Juno replied, though his voice lacked conviction. "Just… not enough."
Kael clenched his fists. "A whole month. And we still can't touch him in Overdrive."
Ash stared at his hands.
He remembered the early days—when matching Lunaria's speed had felt impossible, when touching him even once had been a miracle.
Back then, progress had been visible.
Now?
It felt like running toward a horizon that never grew closer.
The next morning, Lunaria ended the session early.
That alone was unsettling.
They stood before him, battered and exhausted, waiting for criticism, instruction—something.
Instead, Lunaria was silent.
He studied them for a long moment.
"You're frustrated," he said finally.
No one denied it.
"You think failure means stagnation," Lunaria continued. "That because you still lose, you've learned nothing."
He looked directly at Ash.
"Tell me," Lunaria asked, "how long do you survive now when I enter Overdrive?"
Ash hesitated. "…Three seconds. Sometimes four."
Lunaria nodded.
He turned to Kael. "Before?"
"Less than one," Kael admitted.
"To Juno?"
"Zero," Juno said quietly.
"And now?"
"…One," Juno said.
Lunaria folded his hands behind his back.
"Overdrive is not meant to be beaten at your level," he said.
"It's meant to redefine it."
They stiffened.
"You are not training to win," Lunaria continued.
"You are training so that when this power is used against you… you don't die instantly."
The words settled heavily.
Ash felt a chill crawl up his spine.
"You think this month was failure," Lunaria said. "But you're wrong."
He turned away, gazing toward the distant mountains.
"A month ago, Overdrive erased you."
He glanced back.
"Now… it has to work for it."
Silence followed.
Not comforting.
But steadier.
Lunaria spoke one last time before leaving them to rest.
"Tomorrow," he said, "we change the rules."
Ash's heart skipped.
"How?" Riven asked.
Lunaria paused.
"You won't be fighting me anymore," he said calmly.
"You'll be fighting yourselves."
And for some reason—
That terrified them more than Overdrive ever had.