Dawn broke cold and gray, mist rising from the forest floor like ghostly fingers. Astraeus woke to the sound of birds and the dull ache of muscles that had been pushed beyond their limits. The fire had burned down to embers during the night, and his breath misted in the chill morning air.
He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and immediately felt Kha'Zul's presence stir in his consciousness.
You're awake. Good. We're wasting daylight.
"Good morning to you too," Astraeus muttered, standing and stretching. His joints popped, and he winced. "Can't I at least have breakfast first?"
You can eat while I explain what we're going to do today.
Astraeus pulled out the remaining bread and dried meat from Mira's bundle, chewing slowly while Kha'Zul's mental voice filled his head.
Your academy training is garbage, the demon began without preamble. You've been taught to cast spells like a craftsman following a recipe—memorize the gestures, speak the words, channel the essence in exactly the prescribed pattern. It works, but it's inefficient and inflexible.
"The academy's methods have been refined over centuries," Astraeus said defensively.
And in those centuries, how many academy-trained mages have killed gods? Conquered dimensions? Reshaped reality itself?
Astraeus was silent. The answer was obvious.
Exactly. Your academy teaches you to be competent. I'm going to teach you to be dangerous. There's a difference.
"What's the difference?"
Competent mages cast the spells they've memorized. Dangerous mages understand the fundamental principles and create new applications on the fly. Competent mages follow rules. Dangerous mages break them when necessary.
Kha'Zul's shadow form rose from the ground, not fully manifesting but present enough to loom over Astraeus. The crimson-black silhouette gestured toward the clearing.
Stand in the center. We're going to start with the basics—Ethereal Essence manipulation without spell structures.
Astraeus moved to the center of the clearing, finishing the last of his breakfast. "What do you want me to do?"
Close your eyes. Feel the essence around you. You did this in the ruins, but you were panicked and desperate. Now we're going to do it properly.
Astraeus closed his eyes and reached out with his awareness. The Ethereal Essence was there, flowing through everything like an invisible current. It felt more vivid now than it had in the ruins, as if his senses had sharpened overnight.
Good. Now, instead of shaping it into a spell, I want you to simply move it. Gather it in front of you. No structure, no formula. Just will it to move.
It sounded simple. It wasn't.
Astraeus focused on the essence, imagining it gathering, condensing. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, he felt the essence respond, flowing toward the point he'd designated. It was like trying to herd water with his bare hands—the moment he relaxed his concentration, it dispersed.
Keep it together. Don't let it slip.
Sweat beaded on Astraeus's forehead despite the morning chill. The essence gathered, a sphere of invisible energy that he could feel but not see. It pulsed with potential, raw and unformed.
Now make it visible. Give it form without giving it purpose.
Astraeus pushed more of his will into the gathered essence, and it began to glow. Silver-blue light materialized in the air before him, a sphere roughly the size of his fist. It wasn't a spell—it was just essence made manifest, pure and unstructured.
[SKILL EXPERIENCE GAINED: BASIC ETHEREAL MANIPULATION]
[PROGRESS: 25/100]
"I did it," Astraeus said, opening his eyes to see the glowing sphere floating in front of him.Don't celebrate yet. Now comes the hard part. Shape it.
"Shape it into what?"
Anything. Everything. That's the point. Essence is malleable. It can become fire, ice, lightning, force, matter, energy. The only limit is your understanding and will. Show me what you can do.
Astraeus stared at the sphere, his mind racing. He thought about the fire spell he'd used against the dire wolves—the heat, the light, the destructive force. He imagined the essence transforming, taking on those properties.
The sphere flickered, and small flames began to dance across its surface. They were weak, barely more than sparks, but they were there.
Pathetic, but it's a start. Now try something else. Don't let the essence dissipate—transform it directly.
Astraeus imagined ice instead of fire. The flames sputtered and died, and frost began to form on the sphere's surface. The temperature around it dropped noticeably, and his breath misted in the suddenly colder air.
Better. Again. Faster this time.
Fire. Ice. Lightning—that one barely worked, producing only a few weak sparks. Force—the sphere compressed, becoming denser, heavier. Light—it blazed so bright Astraeus had to squint.
Each transformation came easier than the last, the essence responding more readily to his will. But maintaining the sphere was exhausting. His Ethereal Essence pool was draining rapidly.
[ETHEREAL ESSENCE: 25/50]
"I'm running low," Astraeus said, breathing hard.
Then learn to be more efficient. You're bleeding essence with every transformation because you don't understand what you're doing. You're forcing the essence to change instead of guiding it. Feel the difference.
"How am I supposed to feel the difference?"
By practicing until you do. Again.
They continued for another hour. Astraeus transformed the sphere over and over, each iteration draining his essence pool until he was running on fumes. His head pounded, his vision swam, and his hands shook from the effort.
[ETHEREAL ESSENCE: 5/50]
"I can't," he gasped, letting the sphere dissipate. "I'm empty."
You're not empty. You're uncomfortable. There's a difference. But Kha'Zul's tone was less harsh than usual. Rest. Let your essence regenerate. We'll continue in an hour.
Astraeus collapsed onto the fallen log, his whole body trembling. The system notification appeared in his vision.
[SKILL EXPERIENCE GAINED: BASIC ETHEREAL MANIPULATION]
[PROGRESS: 45/100]
Twenty points of progress in a single training session. At this rate, he'd hit level five in a few days. But the cost was brutal—he felt like he'd been wrung out and left to dry.
"Is it always going to be this hard?" he asked.
No. Eventually, it will become second nature. You'll manipulate essence as easily as you breathe. But that takes time and practice. Lots of practice.
"How long did it take you to master essence manipulation?"
I'm a demon. We're born with an innate understanding of essence. It's part of our nature. Kha'Zul paused. But even for me, true mastery took centuries. You don't have centuries. So we're going to compress your learning through methods that would make your academy instructors faint with horror.
"Like what?"
Like training until you collapse. Like pushing your limits every single day. Like learning through pain and failure instead of safe, controlled exercises.
"That sounds terrible."
It is. But it works. And if you want to survive what's coming, you need to be willing to suffer for your power.
Astraeus sat in silence, watching his essence pool slowly regenerate. The number ticked up gradually—one point every few minutes. At this rate, it would take over two hours to fully recover.
"There has to be a faster way to regenerate essence," he said.
There is. Meditation. Proper breathing techniques. Absorbing essence from your environment instead of just letting it flow naturally. But those are advanced techniques. For now, rest and natural regeneration will have to suffice.
The hour passed slowly. Astraeus ate the last of his food, drank from a small stream he found nearby, and tried not to think about how much his body hurt. When his essence pool had recovered to about thirty points, Kha'Zul's presence stirred again.
Ready for round two?
"Do I have a choice?"
No.
The second training session was different. Instead of transforming a single sphere, Kha'Zul had Astraeus create multiple small spheres and maintain them simultaneously. It was exponentially harder—each sphere required a portion of his concentration, and keeping them all stable while preventing them from interfering with each other made his head feel like it was splitting open.
He managed three spheres for about thirty seconds before losing control. They collapsed, essence dispersing harmlessly into the air.
Again.
Three spheres. Forty seconds.
Again.
Three spheres. One minute.
Again.Four spheres. Twenty seconds before catastrophic failure.
Again.
By the time Kha'Zul finally called a halt, Astraeus was lying on his back in the clearing, staring up at the sky, too exhausted to move. His essence pool was at three points, and his head throbbed with a headache that felt like someone was driving nails into his skull.
[SKILL EXPERIENCE GAINED: BASIC ETHEREAL MANIPULATION]
[PROGRESS: 70/100]
"I think I'm dying," Astraeus said weakly.
You're not dying. You're learning. There's a difference.
"It doesn't feel different."
Good training never does.
Astraeus forced himself to sit up, then stand. His legs wobbled, but they held. The sun was past its zenith—they'd been training for most of the morning. He needed to get back on the road if he wanted to make decent progress toward Thornhaven.
He gathered his meager belongings, kicked dirt over the fire pit, and started walking. Each step felt like it required monumental effort, but he kept moving. The road stretched ahead, empty and quiet.
While we walk, let me explain something about the binding, Kha'Zul said after a while.
"What about it?"
You've probably noticed that I can't directly control your body or force you to do anything. The God System's binding prevents that. But what it doesn't prevent is me sharing my knowledge, my experience, my understanding of combat and magic.
"Okay?"
Which means that when you fight, I can guide you. Suggest tactics. Warn you of dangers. Essentially, you have three thousand years of combat experience available to you, if you're willing to listen.
"That seems... incredibly useful."
It is. But it requires trust. You need to be able to act on my suggestions without hesitation, without second-guessing. In the heat of battle, a moment's delay can mean death.
"And you expect me to trust a demon who's openly stated he wants to kill me?"
I expect you to trust that I want to survive. And your survival is currently linked to mine. So yes, I will keep you alive. Whether I like you or not is irrelevant.
It was a pragmatic argument, and Astraeus couldn't fault the logic. "Fine. I'll try to trust your tactical advice. But if you try to get me killed—"
If I try to get you killed, I go back to the seal. I've made that calculation already. Your survival is in my best interest.
They walked in silence for a while, the forest gradually giving way to more open terrain. Fields appeared on either side of the road, some planted with crops, others lying fallow. In the distance, Astraeus could see a farmhouse, smoke rising from its chimney.
The road was busier here. He passed a merchant's cart heading in the opposite direction, the driver giving him a curious look but not stopping. A pair of travelers on horseback rode past, their conversation dying as they noticed his torn academy robes.
Astraeus was acutely aware of how he must look—a bedraggled student, alone on the road, clearly having been through something traumatic. He needed new clothes, supplies, and a story that would hold up under scrutiny once he reached Thornhaven.
You're thinking too loudly again, Kha'Zul observed.
"I'm trying to plan."
Then plan quietly. Your anxiety is giving me a headache.
"Can demons even get headaches?"
When they're bound to neurotic teenagers, apparently yes.
Despite everything, Astraeus smiled. There was something almost companionable about their bickering. It wasn't friendship—not even close—but it was better than the hostile silence of the first day.
The afternoon wore on. Astraeus practiced manipulating essence as he walked, creating small spheres of light and maintaining them for as long as he could. The practice was less intense than Kha'Zul's formal training, but it kept his skills sharp and his essence pool cycling.
[SKILL EXPERIENCE GAINED: BASIC ETHEREAL MANIPULATION]
[PROGRESS: 75/100]
As the sun began to set, Astraeus spotted something that made his heart sink—a group of men blocking the road ahead. There were five of them, rough-looking, armed with a mixture of swords, axes, and clubs. They weren't making any effort to hide their intentions.
Bandits.
Well, Kha'Zul said, his mental voice taking on an edge of anticipation. This should be interesting.
"I don't suppose there's a way around them?"
The forest on either side is too dense. You'd have to backtrack for miles to find another route. And they've already seen you.
One of the bandits—a large man with a scar running down his face—stepped forward. "Hold there, boy. This is a toll road. You want to pass, you pay the toll."
Astraeus stopped about twenty feet away, his mind racing. He had no money, no valuables except his torn academy robes. And something told him these men weren't interested in negotiating.
"I don't have anything to give you," he said, keeping his voice steady.
The scarred man grinned, revealing missing teeth. "Sure you do. Those robes, for starters. Academy issue, aren't they? Worth a few coins to the right buyer. And whatever else you're carrying."
"I'm carrying nothing but the clothes on my back."
"Then the clothes will have to do. Strip."
Are you going to let them rob you? Kha'Zul asked, his tone suggesting he already knew the answer.
"No," Astraeus said quietly. Then, louder, to the bandits: "I'm not giving you anything. Let me pass."
The scarred man's grin widened. "Brave words from a boy alone on the road. But bravery doesn't stop steel." He drew a rusty sword from his belt. The other bandits followed suit, weapons gleaming in the fading light.
Astraeus's heart hammered in his chest, but his hands were steady as he reached for the Ethereal Essence around him. He'd trained all morning for this. He was exhausted, his essence pool wasn't full, and he was outnumbered five to one.
But he'd already died once.
He wasn't afraid of doing it again.
"Last chance, boy," the scarred man said. "Give us what we want, or we take it from your corpse."
Astraeus smiled, and it was not a kind smile. It was the smile of someone who'd faced down a Demon King and survived.
"Come and try," he said.
And as the bandits charged, Ethereal Essence blazed to life around his hands, silver-blue light cutting through the gathering darkness like a promise of violence.
The real training was about to begin.