Six months.
That was how long it had been since Newoaga.
Six months since blood soaked ancient stone, since judgment fell under a castle older than lies, since I learned—properly—that survival was not the same thing as victory.
Six months since I stopped being able to pretend I was just a talented first-year student.
I sat on the cold stone floor of a specialized training chamber deep within Lionhearth's inner castle, my back pressed to the wall, head tilted forward as I dragged air into my lungs.
Inhale.
Hold.
Exhale.
My breathing was ragged, unsteady—but controlled.
Sweat slid down my face, dripping from my chin onto the ground. My arms trembled faintly, muscles burning in that deep, dull way that didn't scream pain anymore—only fatigue earned through repetition.
My body felt heavy.
No.
That wasn't right.
It felt dense.
Six months ago, exhaustion meant collapse.
Now it meant recalibration.
I flexed my fingers slowly. Calluses covered my palms, scarred over and reinforced from blade work, hand-to-hand training, and the kind of drills that didn't stop just because your hands split open. My forearms were corded with muscle—lean, tight, efficient. My shoulders were broader. My torso harder.
Somewhere along the way, my body had stopped breaking and started adapting.
I glanced down.
My sword laid across my lap.
Or what remained of it.
The once-clean edge was chipped in more places than I wanted to count. Micro-fractures webbed faintly along the blade, hidden unless you knew where to look—which I did. The white streaks of frozen lightning that had once pulsed proudly along its length now flickered weakly, like embers refusing to fully die.
I clenched my jaw.
I wasn't ready to acknowledge it yet.
Six months of nonstop training had pushed everything to its limit—especially the blade that had carried me since Ignis. Since the slums. Since the beginning.
I knew, deep down, what was coming.
I just wasn't ready to say goodbye.
I exhaled slowly and leaned my head back against the wall.
Will stirred faintly in my chest—not flaring, not reacting violently like it once had. Just… present. Solid. Mine.
That alone marked how much had changed.
Six months ago, Will had been something I forced into existence out of desperation. A last resort. A gamble that left fractures behind it.
Now?
Now it was something I could materialize.
Not explosively.
Deliberately.
I let my eyes close.
The chamber responded—not with light or sound, but with pressure. The air thickened slightly, as if acknowledging my presence. Aura pooled quietly around my skin, thin layers overlapping in invisible patterns. Water-natured control threaded through it—not flowing outward, but inward, compressing.
Six months of drilling had burned one truth into me:
Aura wasted was aura lost.
Will misused was will shattered.
From now on, nothing I did would be careless.
Every movement had a reason.
Every clash had a plan.
I wasn't much stronger than everyone in my class.
But now I was smarter about how I fought.
That mattered more.
"Enough."
The door to the chamber opened.
I didn't need to look to know who it was.
I opened my eyes anyway.
Sir Adranous stepped inside, his presence alone shifting the atmosphere. Polished armor faintly scorched by old battles, red cloak resting heavy against his shoulders, golden-red hair pulled back loosely. His gaze swept over me once—assessing, as always.
Then he nodded.
"The Academy resumes tomorrow," he said. "The next year begins."
I stayed seated, breathing slowly, saying nothing.
He studied me for a moment longer, then continued.
"That means your training ends here."
My fingers curled slightly against the stone.
Not in relief.
Not in fear.
Just acknowledgment.
Sir Adranous walked closer, stopping a few steps from me. "Six months," he said. "No pauses. No indulgence. No excuses."
He smiled faintly.
"You survived."
I looked up at him then.
Silent. Sharp.
The gaze wasn't defiant.
It wasn't prideful either.
It was the look of someone who had been emptied and filled again so many times that emotion no longer spilled over easily.
Sir Adranous noticed.
He chuckled under his breath and reached out, placing a heavy hand atop my head, ruffling my hair in a way that would have annoyed me a year ago back in Ignis.
"Don't forget what I taught you," he said.
"I won't," I replied quietly.
"You learned how to use aura," he continued. "Not louder. Cleaner."
I nodded.
"You learned how to use Will," he added. "Not recklessly. Sustainably."
Another nod.
"And you learned when to lead… and when not to."
That one settled deeper.
Sir Adranous withdrew his hand and straightened. "You've done well, Rain. Your reward will come—just not the kind you expect."
I rose to my feet slowly, ignoring the ache in my legs, and bowed. Properly. Fully.
"Thank you," I said. "For everything."
For teaching me how not to die.
For teaching me how not to break.
For teaching me how not to lose myself.
Sir Adranous's expression softened for a fraction of a second.
Then he smirked.
"Your other master will return soon," he said. "Don't let him know I trained you as well."
The chill that ran down my spine was immediate.
Other master…
My thoughts snapped uncomfortably to one man.
Sir Zenite.
"…Oh," I muttered.
Sir Adranous laughed outright. "Good luck."
I grimaced internally.
That was not comforting.
"Well," I said, forcing a breath, "I should clean up and return to the dorms."
He waved a hand dismissively. "Go. You've earned one night of peace."
I wasn't sure Lionhearth knew what peace meant anymore.
But I bowed once more and left the chamber.
I hadn't slept in the dormitories for months.
Training demanded isolation. Focus. Control. I'd slept in auxiliary quarters, storage rooms, sometimes not at all. Returning to the Academy proper felt strange—like stepping back into a life I'd outgrown while still wearing the same face.
It was evening when I passed through the central courtyard.
Too quiet.
I frowned.
School resumed tomorrow. I expected noise. Movement. Students arriving early, boasting, laughing, nervous.
Instead, only a handful of figures crossed the grounds.
…Huh.
I shrugged it off and headed to my old dorm.
Locked.
I stared at the door.
"…What."
I tried the handle again.
Still locked.
With a sigh, I turned and walked to the administrative office. The woman behind the desk looked up, glanced at my face—
—and immediately brightened.
"Oh!" she said. "You must be Rain."
"That obvious?" I asked.
She laughed. "You need to change rooms."
"…Why."
She tapped a ledger, flipping pages. "Because you're no longer Class 1-S."
I froze.
"…I'm what…?"
She looked up at me, smiling brightly. "Class 2-S."
"…Aww, shit."
Juno.
The thought hit immediately, sharp and uncomfortable.
I swallowed. "…Where are the new dorms?"
She checked another page—and her eyebrows shot up.
"Oh. Oh wow."
"…That's never good," I muttered.
She beamed. "You're very lucky. General Izekel personally ordered renovations."
"…Renovations?"
She nodded. "A new living hall. Exclusively for your class."
"…Just us?"
"Yes."
I stared.
She handed me a key. "Best room, too."
I took it slowly.
"…I did something, didn't I."
She laughed nervously. "Apparently."
I thanked her and left, my mind already racing.
The building stood not far from the Academy.
Massive.
Modern.
Luxurious in a way Lionhearth usually reserved for nobility.
Akris Hall, the plaque read.
I unlocked the front doors.
Stepped inside.
And froze.
Four floors. Spacious common areas. Training zones. Reinforced walls. Proper armories. Kitchens that looked like they could feed battalions. Bathrooms that didn't look like they'd collapse under pressure.
This wasn't a dorm.
This was a statement.
I explored silently, footsteps echoing.
Finally, I reached the third floor.
Only one door.
Mine.
I unlocked it.
King-sized bed. Private bathroom. A living area larger than any room I'd ever lived in. A closet the size of the slum apartment I grew up in.
I stood there.
Then opened the closet.
Placed my few sets of plain clothing inside.
Commoner clothes.
Out of place.
I laughed quietly—then stopped.
Tomorrow, the second year began.
And whatever waited for me next…
I knew this much, Nothing would ever be simple as it was before.