Kaito finally stopped laughing, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.
"Man… Mydeimos? What a corny name. Sounds like a discount stage actor trying way too hard to be scary."
I exhaled sharply, rubbing my temples.
What a clueless man.
"…So what happens now?" I asked.
Kaito tilted his head, then slowly walked toward the cracked window. The evening sun bled through broken glass, scattering golden light across the dusty floorboards. His shadow stretched long and sharp, and for once, his grin faded into something more deliberate.
"Now?" he repeated softly. Then his eyes locked on me, full of that mocking spark again.
"Now I train you."
He strolled toward the door, every step lazy but deliberate. Just before leaving, he paused and glanced back.
"What are you waiting for, kid?"
I blinked. "…What?"
Kaito smirked, snapping his fingers.
"Really, kiddo. It's go time. Our training starts now."
"HUH? Now!?" I shouted, nearly stumbling off the chair.
"Of course now! There's no better time than when you're raw, confused, and pissed off. That's when growth bites hardest." He jabbed his thumb toward an old dresser. "I tossed some gear in that drawer earlier. Go change and meet me in the backyard."
Before I could argue, he was gone, leaving only the echo of his footsteps down the mansion's hollow halls.
I stared at the drawer, my pulse quickening. Training. With a Nakamura. The strongest clan in history.
I yanked it open and found clothes—battle gear, simple but sturdy, faintly humming with enchantments. Pulling them on, I caught my reflection in a cracked mirror. I barely recognized myself—tired eyes, bruised chest, but burning with something new.
Resolve.
I stepped into the mansion's winding halls, following the faint creaks of Kaito's footsteps. The place was massive, silent, shadows stretching over torn tapestries and broken chandeliers. After what felt like forever, I found a pair of rotting doors leading to the backyard.
And when I pushed them open—
The world widened.
The mansion's backyard was no simple yard—it was a training ground. Overgrown grass stretched across a courtyard littered with old weapon racks, shattered stone dummies, and a massive circular arena etched with glowing runes. Beyond that lay towering trees, their bark scarred from what looked like years of battle.
Kaito stood in the center, arms crossed, that lazy grin tugging at his lips.
"Welcome to hell, kid." He spread his arms wide. "Day one begins now."
The mansion's yard was wide, overgrown, and silent. Moss clung to cracked stone paths, vines twisted across shattered statues, and the remains of fountains sat dry and hollow. But when Kaito Nakamura stepped out, hands in his pockets, it felt less like ruins and more like an arena.
The air shifted. Heavy. Alive.
I swallowed hard.
"This," Kaito said, stretching his arms behind his head with a lazy grin, "is where you'll die."
I froze. "…What?"
He winked. "Relax. You'll only almost die. Fifty times. Maybe more. But hey—if you survive… you might just be worth teaching."
His aura flared—time itself seemed to pause around him. The wind stopped mid-sway, dust hung frozen in the air. Then, with a snap of his fingers, the world resumed.
I staggered back, breath caught in my throat.
That was no bluff. This man… this Nakamura… was something else.
"Welcome to Day One, kid."
Day 1–5:
The first days were pure hell.
Kaito didn't hand me a sword, or scrolls, or mana techniques. He just looked me dead in the eye and said:
"Run."
So I did.
Through the overgrown forest behind the mansion, through mud, through thorns. Every time I collapsed, gasping, he appeared ahead of me, smirking.
"Too slow."
Then time would freeze. And suddenly a tree branch I thought I dodged would slam into my ribs.
He rewound my mistakes just so I'd feel them.
By the fifth day, my legs were shredded, my body broken. But my reflexes were sharper. My instincts screamed louder. And Kaito finally gave me a nod.
"Not bad, kid. You're starting to move like someone who doesn't want to die."
Day 6–15:
The next phase was worse.
Kaito tied small boulders to my back. He forced me to hold stances until my muscles tore. He made me swing weighted blades until my hands blistered raw.
Every time I collapsed, he froze time, rewound me to the moment before I fell, and forced me to keep going.
"No breaks. No excuses. If you can't beat time, then you don't deserve to live in it."
On the tenth day, I snapped. "I can't… I can't do this!"
Kaito crouched beside me, eyes unusually sharp. "Then quit. Go back to being prey. Monsters will love you eating you."he said with a smirk.
Something inside me broke and made me remember I can't give up for Ara and my Mother. I screamed, pushed, lifted, ran, until my body adapted.
By Day 15, I was sprinting with boulders like they were feathers.
And for the first time, Kaito's grin wasn't mocking.
"Good. Now you're starting to look like a warrior."
Day 16–25:
"Time to strengthen up your core."
That's when training shifted from body to soul.
Kaito sat me under a waterfall that felt like it would crush my spine. "Feel the flow. Breathe mana like air. Don't fight it—command it."
For ten days straight, I sat, meditating, channeling. Each failure earned me a rewind. I drowned over and over, lungs filling with water, chest bursting—until I finally felt it:
The pulse of mana inside me. Cold. Burning. Alive.
Ice flickered around my fingertips. Mirage-like distortions bent the air.
Kaito raised an eyebrow. "red lightning, huh? That an extremely rare ability. Interesting."
He leaned close, voice low. "Learn control. Or you'll electrocute yourself to death before you fool anyone."
Day by day, my control sharpened. By Day 25, I could form spears of electricity, shatter them into sparks, and cloak myself in shimmering illusions.
Kaito clapped once. "Now we're getting somewhere."
Day 26–35:
The real pain began.
Kaito sparred with me daily. Except his "sparring" meant him dodging everything with a grin, warping time so every attack I threw looped back on me.
"You're not fighting me," he taunted, "you're fighting your own hesitation."
Day 30, he froze time mid-battle. I couldn't move, couldn't breathe. He walked circles around me, whispering:
"Imagine enemies like me. Stronger than me. Crueler than me. If you can't fight with death breathing down your neck, you'll never survive."
When time resumed, I screamed, swinging wildly—and for the first time, my blade grazed his shirt.
Kaito's grin widened.
"There it is. Instinct."
By Day 35, I could fight blindfolded, dodging his strikes through raw instinct, illusions, and mana sense.
And though I never once won, I survived.
Day 36–45:
Now he got creative.
He sealed me in ice chambers to test my endurance. Forced me into pitch-black illusions where nightmare beasts chased me endlessly. Trapped me in his frozen-time bubbles, making me think my heart had stopped beating.
It was torture. But each trial sharpened me.
By Day 42, I could mask my presence in shimmering mirages so beasts walked past me. By Day 45, I fought Kaito's time-warp feints without flinching, adapting mid-movement.
And still—he wasn't satisfied.
Day 46–50:
"Final trial, kid."
He snapped his fingers. The world twisted red. The sky cracked, the air bent—time itself warped violently.
"This," he said, eyes serious for the first time, "is the Crimson Hour. A space where I unleash time's fury without restraint. Survive five days in here… and you'll walk out a warrior."
For five endless days, I fought in a world where seconds stretched like eternities, where hours collapsed into heartbeats. Beasts appeared and vanished. My body shattered, healed, shattered again.
I bled. I froze. I screamed.
But I survived.
On the dawn of the fiftieth day, the Hour shattered like glass. I collapsed in the mansion yard, barely breathing.
Kaito stood over me, arms crossed, smirking.
"Well, well… look who didn't die."
He extended a hand. His grin softened, just slightly.
"Congratulations, kid. You're not prey anymore."
I took his hand. My body shook, my mana burned—but for the first time since awakening, I felt it.
Power. Real power.
The fifty days of hell had forged me into something new.
And this was only the beginning.