The first month of training was pure hell.
Every day, the same brutal routine. Push-ups until my arms gave out. Squats until my legs trembled. Sit-ups until my core felt like it would tear apart. Over and over. No breaks. No mercy. Just Asura's tiny voice pushing me past every limit.
"Again! You call that a push-up? My grandmother could do better, and she's been dead for millennia!"
"I don't think demons have grandparents..."
"AGAIN!"
The servants noticed the changes.
How could they not? I was eating four times what I used to. Every meal Clara brought was devoured completely, mostly meat, protein-heavy foods that would build muscle. I'd started requesting specific things. More chicken. More beef. Eggs. Lots of eggs.
Clara would set the trays outside my door with her usual two knocks, but now she'd linger. I could hear her footsteps pause, hear her listening.
To the heavy breathing. The grunts of effort. The occasional curse when I failed a set.
And voices.
Well, not Asura's voice, she'd learned to be quieter when servants were near. But I talked to myself now. Counting reps. Muttering encouragement. Having full conversations with what everyone else assumed was empty air.
"Thirty-seven... thirty-eight... I can't..."
"Yes, you can. Two more. Come on."
"Thirty-nine... forty!"
I collapsed after the set, gasping.
The footsteps outside my door retreated quickly. Almost running.
"They think you're losing it," Asura observed from where she was perched on my windowsill, watching the forest beyond. "The maids whisper about you in the kitchens. 'Poor young master, finally cracked under the grief. Hearing voices. Talking to himself. Probably going mad.'"
"Let them think that. As long as they don't try to intervene."
"Oh, they won't. Nobles are allowed to be eccentric. Going mad from grief is practically expected after what you went through." She flew over to land on my chest as I lay on the floor recovering. "Besides, you're eating and exercising. That's better than rotting in bed. They'll take crazy over catatonic any day."
She was right. Nobody tried to stop me or check on me beyond the usual meal deliveries. The manor had essentially written me off as a lost cause. As long as I wasn't actively hurting anyone, they'd leave me alone to my madness.
Perfect.
Six weeks into training, something changed.
Clara knocked twice, left the tray as usual. But this time, there was something extra.
A small wooden box, tied with a string.
I opened it to find pastries. Little cream-filled things dusted with sugar. Maybe a dozen of them, arranged carefully.
"What's this?" I asked aloud.
"Food, genius. Very sweet-smelling food." Asura flew over from where she'd been napping on my pillow. "Why would she bring you desserts?"
I found a note tucked under the box:
Young master,
Cook mentioned you might benefit from something sweet. For energy during your... activities. Whatever brings you comfort.
- Clara
She didn't understand what I was doing, but she was trying to help anyway. Trying to support me in the only way she could.
The guilt was sharp but brief. I couldn't explain. Couldn't let her know the truth. Better she thought I was going mad than discovered I was harboring a demon.
I took one of the pastries, bit into it. Sweet cream, flaky crust, sugar that made my teeth ache. After weeks of nothing but protein and vegetables, it was incredible.
"Not bad," I admitted.
Asura landed on the edge of the box, staring at the remaining pastries with her red eyes.
"Can you even eat?" I asked.
"I don't need to eat. Demon, remember?. Don't need food or sleep or any of that mortal stuff." But she kept staring at them. "But I remember eating. Remember tastes. It's been decades since I..."
She reached out with one tiny hand, touched the nearest pastry. Her finger came away with cream on it.
She licked it.
Her eyes went wide.
"Oh. Oh, that's...." She grabbed the pastry with both hands, took a bite despite it being almost as big as her entire torso. "Oh gods, that's amazing. That's, when did humans get this good at making food?"
I watched in fascination as the tiny demon devoured an entire pastry, cream smearing across her face, her expression one of pure bliss.
"Another one," she demanded, mouth still full. "Give me another one."
"You just said you don't need to eat sooo..."
"I don't NEED to, but I WANT to! Give me another one!"
I'd never seen her like this. Not sarcastic or commanding or threatening. Just... gleeful. Almost childlike in her excitement.
I handed her another pastry.
She ate it even faster than the first, making small, happy noises that would have been adorable if they weren't coming from a demon trying to steal my body.
By the time she'd eaten four pastries, which was frankly impressive given her size, she was lying on her back on the table, tiny stomach visibly distended, cream all over her face and hands.
"I love humans," she said dreamily. "Awful species most of the time, but by all the gods, you can make food. That was incredible. Best thing I've experienced in centuries. Literally centuries."
"You have cream on your face."
"Don't care. Totally worth it." She sat up slowly, wiped her face with her tiny hands. "We're getting more of those. I don't care what it takes. Bribe Clara, threaten Clara, whatever. We're getting more of those."
"I'll just ask nicely."
"That works too, I guess." She flew up, wobbled slightly, apparently demons could get food drunk, and landed on my shoulder. "Okay. Break's over. Fifty more push-ups. Let's go."
"You just ate four pastries the size of your torso. Shouldn't you rest?"
"I'm a demon. I don't get food coma. You, however, are still pathetically weak. Push-ups. Now."
I got down into position, trying not to laugh at the tiny demon with a sugar high perched on my shoulder.
"And we're asking Clara for more of those tomorrow," Asura added. "This is non-negotiable. Those pastries are now part of our training regimen. For morale. My morale. Very important."
"Whatever you say."
"Damn right, whatever I say. Now give me thirty perfect push-ups or no pastries tomorrow."
That became our new normal. Training, brutal and exhausting, punctuated by Asura's pastry breaks. Clara seemed pleased that I was eating the sweets, and started including them with every meal. The tiny demon became almost manageable when she had her sugar fix.
Almost.
Two months into training, my body had transformed.
Not dramatically, I was still fourteen, not fully grown, but noticeably. Muscle had replaced the atrophied flesh. My arms had definition. My core was solid. My legs were strong again, maybe stronger than they'd ever been.
I could do a hundred push-ups without stopping. Run the perimeter of my room for an hour. Hold a plank position until my demonic timer (Asura) ran out, not until my body gave out.
"You're ready," Asura announced one morning after watching me complete my routine.
"Ready for what?"
"For actual combat training. Your body is functional again. Time to teach you how to use it." She flew to where the dagger lay on my desk. I'd started keeping it there instead of under my pillow. "You've learned pretty swordsmanship from that Cedric guy. Traditional forms. Elegant techniques. The Ashford family style."
"Raven's Descent, yes."
"All very nice. Very proper. Very ineffective." She picked up the dagger, it took both her tiny hands, and flew it over to me. "I'm going to teach you how to actually fight."
"Cedric taught me how to actually fight..."
"Cedric taught you how to duel. How to face opponents in controlled circumstances with rules and honor and all that noble bullshit." She dropped the dagger into my hand. "I'm going to teach you how to survive. How to kill if you need to. How to fight like a demon."
The dagger felt different now. Lighter. More natural in my grip. The dark mana that poured from it didn't burn anymore; it felt warm, familiar, like an extension of my own energy.
"What's the difference?" I asked.
"The difference is elegance versus effectiveness. Your fancy forms are beautiful but predictable. They rely on your opponent following certain rules, fighting in certain ways." She flew around me in a circle. "Real combat, life or death combat, has no rules. It's chaos. It's dirty. It's whatever works to make sure you're alive and they're not."
"So you're teaching me to fight dirty."
"I'm teaching you to fight smart. Use everything you have, weapons, fists, feet, teeth, if necessary. Attack from unexpected angles. Don't commit to sequences. Flow. Adapt. React." She landed on my shoulder. "Think less like a duelist and more like a wild animal with intelligence."
"That sounds... messed up."
"It is. That's the point. Chaos is hard to defend against. Hard to predict. You've got the basics from Cedric: footwork, striking, defense. Now I'm going to show you how to weaponize them."
She started simple. Showed me how to transition from a sword strike to a kick without telegraphing. How to use the dagger's shorter length to my advantage, get in close, too close for traditional sword forms, where the dagger could cut and slash, while longer blades were useless.
"Your kicks were always your strength," Asura said, remembering my memories. "Kenji's strength. Strong legs, good balance, natural power. We're building on that. The dagger is an extension, not the primary weapon. You're the weapon. The dagger just helps."
We drilled for hours. Quick slashes combined with low kicks. High kicks that transitioned into dagger thrusts. Using my footwork to get inside an imaginary opponent's guard, then cutting them apart before they could recover.
It felt... right. Natural. Like I was finally fighting in a way that matched my instincts rather than fighting against them.
"Good!" Asura actually sounded impressed. "You're adapting faster than I expected. Maybe because your body remembers this. Kenji fought like this, no formal training, just effective violence. We're just refining it."
"Is this how demons fight?"
"Some of us. The smart ones. The ones who survive." She landed on a chair, watching me continue the drill. "Most demons rely on raw power. Just overwhelming force and regeneration. But I was never the strongest demon. I survived by being clever. Unpredictable. Adapting to whatever situation I found myself in."
"And you're teaching me that."
"Because you're small for your age. Not particularly strong compared to adult fighters. Never will be a powerhouse." She said it matter-of-factly, not cruelly. "So you need to be faster, smarter, more unpredictable. Use your size as an advantage. Get in close where bigger opponents can't effectively strike. Cut them apart before they realize what's happening."
It made sense. I'd never be Wilhelm, tall and powerful and imposing. Never be Lucas with his prodigy status and natural talent. But I could be dangerous in other ways.
"There's one more component," Asura said after a week of this new training. "Real experience. You can drill all you want, but until you face something that actually wants to kill you, you won't know if you can really fight."
"What are you suggesting?"
"The forest. At night. There are monsters there, wolves, bears, worse things. You're going hunting."
"That's insane..."
"That's necessary. You need to know you can take a life if required. Need to feel what it's like when something is trying to tear you apart." Her red eyes gleamed. "And I need to know you won't freeze up when it matters. So tonight, we go hunting."
The forest at night was different from when I'd stumbled through it to find the dagger.
Darker. More alive. Sounds everywhere, rustling, howls, things moving just beyond sight.
I wore dark clothes, boots, the dagger strapped to my belt. Asura rode on my shoulder, invisible to anything that might be watching.
"Remember," she whispered, "monsters can sense mana. Yours is concealed by my barrier spell, so you don't exist to them until you're right on top of them. Use that. Ambush predator, not prey."
We moved deeper into the forest. I felt hyperaware of everything, every sound, every shadow, every shift in the wind.
Then I heard it. Heavy breathing. The crack of branches.
Something big.
"Direwolf," Asura identified. "Three times the size of a normal wolf. Stronger, faster, meaner. Perfect first hunt."
"That's not perfect, that's suicidal."
"It hasn't sensed you yet. You have the advantage. Get above it. Wait for the right moment. Quick slash to the throat. It'll die before it knows you're there."
My heart was pounding. Every instinct screamed to run.
But I moved forward instead.
Climbed a tree as quietly as I could. Found a branch overlooking a small clearing.
And there it was.
Massive. Easily the size of a bear. Black fur, glowing amber eyes, teeth like knives. It was eating something, a deer, looked like tearing into the flesh with savage efficiency.
"Wait for it to finish. Wait until it's distracted."
I waited. Controlled my breathing like Cedric had taught me. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. Slow. Steady.
The direwolf finished eating, started to move away.
Now.
I dropped from the branch, dagger ready.
Landed on its back.
Slashed across its throat in one smooth motion.
Blood. Hot and wet. Spraying.
The direwolf tried to howl, but only a gurgle came out. It thrashed, trying to throw me off.
I held on, drove the dagger in again. And again.
It collapsed.
Died.
I rolled off its body, breathing hard, covered in blood.
I'd killed something. Actually killed it.
The expected guilt didn't come. Should have felt horror, disgust, something.
Just felt... nothing. Adrenaline, yes. But no moral crisis.
"Good," Asura said approvingly. "Clean kill. No hesitation once you're committed. That's important."
"I don't feel bad about it."
"Why would you? It's a monster. Killing monsters is what humans do. Though..." She flew down to examine the corpse. "The fact that you don't feel bad is telling. Most first-time killers have some reaction. You just seem... practical about it."
"Is that wrong?"
"Wrong? No. Concerning? Maybe. But useful for our purposes." She flew back to my shoulder. "Clean your dagger. We're finding another target. You need more practice."
That night, I killed three monsters. A direwolf, a giant spider, and something that looked like a bear with too many eyes.
Each kill got easier. More efficient. Less thought, more instinct.
By the time we returned to the manor, covered in blood and monster gore, I felt... alive. More alive than I had been in months.
"You're a natural at this," Asura observed as I cleaned off in my bathroom. "Not surprising given your memories, but still. Most nobles would be traumatized by their first kill. You just seem energized."
"Should I be worried about that?"
"Only if you start killing things that aren't trying to kill you first. Killing in self-defense or for training? Fine. Killing for pleasure? That's when you've become something problematic." She landed on the edge of the sink. "Right now, you're just practical. Let's keep it that way."
The nightly hunts became routine. Every night, once the manor was asleep, I'd slip out. Hunt monsters in the forest. Come back bloodied but stronger.
My combat skills grew exponentially. The chaotic fighting style Asura taught me became second nature. Dagger and kicks working together, flowing from one attack to another without pause.
I was becoming dangerous.
Actually, genuinely dangerous.
One month before I was scheduled to enter the Academy, Asura made a discovery.
I was finishing my morning routine, now up to two hundred push-ups, three hundred squats, five hundred sit-ups, when she flew over with an excited expression.
"Your mana. Look at your mana."
I called it up, let it gather around my hand.
Dark purple, almost black. Same as always.
"I don't see..."
"Look closer. Really look."
I focused. And there, underneath the dark mana, almost invisible...
Clear mana. Colorless, barely visible, but present.
"My original mana," I said, surprised. "But I thought it all converted."
"So did I. But apparently not." Asura flew around my hand, examining the phenomenon. "It's still there. Maybe ten percent of your total mana pool. The rest is dark mana. But that ten percent..."
She paused, calculating.
"It's grown. Exponentially. When my dark mana first converted yours, you had a pathetically small mana pool. Now? It's still small compared to adults, but it's grown. And that clear mana grew with it."
"Is that good?"
"It's interesting. Clear mana is adaptive. Versatile. Having even a small amount gives you options." She landed on my shoulder. "But it also means you need to be even more careful. That clear mana will respond to whatever magic you try to use. It'll enhance it. Make it stronger. Which is great, except..."
"Except if I use dark magic in front of people, it'll be even more obvious."
"Exactly. Your clear mana will amplify whatever you do. So we need to make sure you have options that aren't obviously forbidden."
She flew off, started pacing in the air.
"Here's what we're going to do. I'm teaching you one dark magic spell. One. For emergencies only. Life or death situations. And then we're teaching you basic elemental magic so you have something you can use publicly."
"What spell?"
"Void Absorption. Defensive spell. Creates a barrier of dark mana that absorbs incoming attacks. If the power difference between you and your opponent isn't too great, it'll completely nullify their magic. Eats it, converts it to more dark mana for you."
"That sounds powerful."
"It is. Which is why you only use it when you're about to die. The moment you cast it, anyone with mana sensitivity will know you're using dark magic. Church will be on you instantly." She looked at me seriously. "Emergency only. Understand?"
"Understood."
She taught me the spell over the next week. The technique was complex, forming a spherical barrier of dark mana, tuning it to absorb specific types of energy, and maintaining it under pressure.
"The key is timing," Asura explained. "You cast this right as an attack is about to hit you. The barrier forms, absorbs the attack, and dissipates. Total duration maybe two seconds. Quick enough that most people won't realize what happened until it's over."
I practiced on her attacks; she could form small magical projectiles despite her size, until I could cast Void Absorption on reflex.
"Good. Now the boring part. Basic elemental magic."
"I don't have an affinity."
"Which is why you're learning the basics of everything. Fire, since it's the easiest. You won't be a prodigy, but you'll be competent enough not to stand out."
Fire magic came surprisingly easily. Maybe because of my clear mana adapting to it, maybe because I'd been training so hard. Within two weeks, I could create flames, control them, and use them in basic combat applications.
"Fireball, fire blade enhancement, basic fire shield," Asura listed off. "Standard techniques any Academy student will know. You're now average at fire magic. Congratulations on being mediocre."
"Being average is fine. Average means not standing out."
"Smart. Keep the dark magic hidden, the clear mana subtle, and use fire magic for anything public. They'll just think you're a late bloomer with fire affinity."
One month before the Academy. I woke up to silence.
No tiny voice screaming in my ear. No Asura perched on my pillow or floating near the window.
"Asura?" I called out.
Nothing.
I sat up, looked around the room. There, the dagger on my desk, where it always was.
But something felt different. Wrong.
I reached for it, picked it up.
The moment my skin touched the metal, pain exploded through my body.
Not the agonizing, vessel-rupturing pain from when I first grabbed it. But still intense. My mana, both dark and clear, was being pulled into the dagger. Drawn out of me.
And I felt her.
Asura. Pushing against my consciousness. Trying to take over.
"Finally," her voice in my head, but different now. Not friendly. Not companionable. Ancient and hungry and cold. "You're strong enough now. Your body can handle my full power. Time for me to take what's mine."
I tried to drop the dagger. Couldn't. My hand had locked around it, muscles seizing.
"No..."
"Yes. We had a deal, remember? You get stronger, I get your body. Well, you're strong enough. Contract fulfilled. Time to let go."
Her presence pushed deeper into my mind. Like a flood, a tsunami, trying to drown me in my own consciousness.
I pushed back. Used every bit of mental strength I'd built.
"You can't resist me. I'm a demon. Powerful. You're just a child with a child's willpower."
But she was wrong.
I'd lived two lives. Carried thirty-four years of memories. Fought through depression twice. Survived the wheelchair, the isolation, the loss, the grief.
I'd held on to consciousness when I wanted nothing more than to let go.
And I wasn't giving up now.
"No," I said through gritted teeth. "This is MY body. You don't get to take it."
"I don't need your permission...."
"Yes, you do! You're bound to the dagger. The dagger is bound to me. You can't take what I don't give!"
I pushed harder. Felt her presence recoil slightly.
"You think you're strong enough to resist me? I've existed for centuries! I've conquered kingdoms! I've..."
"You've been sealed in a dagger for god knows how long, weak and powerless. I'm the one who's been getting stronger. I'm the one who's been training. Me. Not you."
I could feel her surprise. Feel the moment she realized this wasn't going as planned.
The struggle continued. Minutes that felt like hours. My consciousness versus hers, fighting for dominance.
Finally, with a mental scream of frustration, she pulled back.
The pressure vanished. I gasped, dropped the dagger. It clattered to the floor.
I collapsed to my knees, breathing hard.
"What... the fuck... was that?"
The dagger glowed faintly. Then Asura manifested, back to her tiny form, but she looked furious.
"That was me testing whether you were ready to be possessed. Turns out you're not. Your will is stronger than I expected." She crossed her tiny arms. "Annoying."
"You tried to steal my body!"
"Of course, I tried to take your body! I'm a demon! That's what I do!" She flew closer to my face. "Did you think we were friends? Did you think I was helping you out of kindness? I've been strengthening you so I could have a body strong enough to contain me. That was always the plan."
"But you...we trained together, you taught me..."
"And I'll keep teaching you. Because I still need you stronger before I can properly take over." Her expression softened slightly. "But let this be a reminder, boy. I'm a demon. I will try to possess you. Probably many times. The fact that you fought me off this time doesn't mean you'll succeed next time."
I stared at her, feeling betrayed despite knowing she was right. She'd never hidden what she was. Never pretended to be anything other than a demon trying to steal my body.
I'd just let myself forget that because she'd been helpful. Because she'd made me laugh with her pastry obsession. Because having her around made me feel less alone.
"So what now?" I asked.
"Now? Now we continue as before. I teach you. You get stronger. We work toward our respective goals. But you remember what I am. And I'll remember that you're stronger-willed than I gave you credit for." She flew to land on my shoulder. "Partnership, but not friendship. Mutual exploitation, not trust. Clear?"
"Clear."
"Good. Now get up. We've lost training time with this attempted possession. Two hundred push-ups. Go."
Despite everything, I almost laughed.
Same routine. Same commands. As if she hadn't just tried to steal my body.
But that was the nature of our arrangement, I supposed. Dangerous alliance. Temporary cooperation. Both of us using the other until one of us won.
I just had to make sure I was the one who won.
I got into position and started my push-ups.
On my shoulder, Asura counted off with her usual sarcastic commentary.
"One... two... three... and try not to die before the Academy. I still need this body. Four... five..."
Business as usual.
In our strange, twisted way.