Kaelith's breaths came in sharp pants, the sweat clinging to his neck and soaking into the collar of his training robe.
His limbs felt like lead, his mana threads burning under his skin, unstable, raw, and tangled.
Still gripping the staff, he limped over to the bench near the rune-lined wall and dropped onto it with a groan.
"Shit," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
His fingers reached inside his robe and pulled out the small black flask Mira had given him earlier, the mana restoration potion.
The bitter one.
He stared at it for a moment.
Then popped the lid.
The stench alone was enough to make his nose wrinkle.
"Cheers to self-loathing," he muttered dryly, then tipped it back in one gulp.
The moment the potion slid down his throat, he gagged.
"Ugh…gods above…!" he coughed violently, eyes watering as the bitter liquid burned all the way down.
It was like drinking melted iron and regret.
But the effect was immediate. A strange coldness washed over him, followed by a sudden heat as mana surged in his veins, forcefully unknotting what little was tangled.
His head dropped back against the wall, breath coming slower now.
"I really hate this world…"
But despite the complaint, a flicker of satisfaction passed through him. The potion worked. His mana was flowing a little more cleanly now.
Not perfect.
But better.
He sat there a moment longer, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the yard.
His fingers idly traced the edge of the staff, thoughts still spiraling between Virelle's letter… the wedding…
Then, a soft breeze swept past.
And Kaelith looked up at the sky, golden-orange bleeding into deep blue.
Dusk was near.
And with dusk came the King's summons.
He stood slowly, rolling his sore shoulders with a quiet grunt.
His gaze drifted to the far end of the yard, where the arched portal door loomed, framed in old stone and etched with faintly glowing runes.
It had been there when he arrived. Untouched.
Silent.
Waiting for him I guess.
Only a fool would walk in alone. So of course, Kaelith did.
Naturally, Kaelith had already made up his mind and was moving toward it.
"Let's see if this pushes my limits… or the former host's," he muttered.
The memories buried in his mind— remnants of the original Kaelith— whispered what lay beyond: a personalized combat realm.
A place tailored to reflect one's mana, emotional turmoil, and deepest instability.
The deeper your inner turmoil, the harder the fight.
And Kaelith?
He was overflowing with both.
He reached the door and pressed his right hand against the central rune. It pulsed sharply, glowing crimson.
The stone creaked open with a deep groan, revealing swirling mist in hues of silver and violet.
Without hesitation, Kaelith stepped inside.
He landed lightly on cool grass. The sky above was a churning sea of thunderclouds, writhing like living shadows. Lightning forked silently in the distance.
The air was thick ,–a mix of ozone, damp earth, and old, lingering magic.
As the mist cleared, three humanoid figures emerged, silhouettes wreathed in smoke, each armed with glowing spectral weapons.
Their eyes glowed the same red hue as the portal that birthed them.
Kaelith clicked his tongue. "Illusion constructs. Of course."
One stepped forward, blade crackling.
Kaelith didn't wait.
He bolted forward, spinning his staff mid-run and launching into an upward strike.
Clang!
The humanoid blocked it, barely and kicked him square in the ribs.
"Argh… dammit!"
Kaelith slid across the grass, grimacing, but recovered quickly, spitting out the blood from the side of his mouth.
He charged again.
This time, he ducked beneath the strike, spun behind the construct, and jabbed the staff hard into its ribs.
"Bastard."
A second figure darted in from the right, slashing downward.
Kaelith twisted, narrowly avoiding the arc of its blade as it whistled past his cheek.
Too close.
The third figure appeared behind him.
Boom!
A palm slammed into his back, sending him sprawling into the dirt, breath knocked clean from his lungs. His staff rolled from his grip.
"Shit… ugh…"
He lay there for a moment, the cold seeping into his clothes— but his blood boiled with heat. Determination.
No pity. No retreat.
This was exactly the punishment he needed.
He pushed himself up, retrieved the staff, and growled low in his throat.
"Thank the Gods this staff can morph."
He gripped the hilt tighter and pressed a hidden switch near its core.
With a flare of red light and a metallic hiss, the staff transformed, sleek and deadly, the blade long and carved with glowing mana runes along its edge.
Kaelith's eyes darkened.
He pointed the blade at the humanoids. "Again! Come at me, you pieces of shit!"
This time, he surged forward with mana crackling around him, his strikes laced with raw power.
Each swing sang through the air, sharp and wild, a low hum trailing behind like a warning bell.
The humanoids matched him move for move.
Their movements had changed— no longer robotic. They were faster. More fluid. They fought like fragments of himself, reckless, brutal and ruthless.
And Kaelith met them with equal rage.
He spun through their ranks like a storm, blade flashing.
"Rrrgh… HAH!"
One construct fell, sliced clean across the chest.
A second was slammed to the ground with a brutal elbow strike and a follow-up jab through the ribs.
The third tried to strike him from behind— Kaelith ducked and twisted, kicking its legs out from under it, then stabbed down with precision.
All three collapsed.
Breathing hard, Kaelith stood alone.
Chest heaving. Muscles burning.
And then…
The realm flickered.
A low hum rippled across the battlefield.
The three humanoids reappeared, standing again, perfectly intact.
But something had changed.
Three glowing triangular marks now shone on their foreheads, pulsing with mana.
Their stances were tighter. Their eyes colder.
Kaelith let out a low, exhausted laugh.
"Good," he muttered, adjusting his grip. "I'm not done yet. Let's see how long I can last."
He charged.
No sooner had the words left his lips than the first humanoid dashed toward him, faster than before.
Kaelith barely raised his blade in time, steel clashed against mana-forged limbs, the impact ringing out like a bell.
"Argh!" he grunted, stumbling back.
The second construct struck from the side with a spinning kick that slammed into his ribs.
Pain bloomed through his torso, sharp and hot but Kaelith clenched his teeth and swung wide, his crimson blade carving a deep gash across the chest of one attacker.
The third dropped from above like a falling shadow, slamming into his shoulder and forcing him to one knee.
He rolled away just in time, gasping.
Mana surged violently through his limbs as he pushed forward again, slicing through one of the constructs.
Only for it to reform instantly, its broken form coalescing like smoke turning solid.
"What the…!?" Kaelith hissed, staggering backward.
The glowing triangle marks on their foreheads pulsed brighter, faster.
They were learning him.
Adapting.
Breaking him down.
And he was running out of time.
His muscles screamed in protest.
His mana flared erratically, slipping through his grasp like water through fractured glass.
One blow slammed into his side.
Another cracked across his back.
A third crashed into his temple, sending his vision spinning.
He roared, swinging blindly, but his blade met only air.
Then, three strikes at once.
Blinding.
Overwhelming.
His knees buckled.
Everything blurred.
And just as he collapsed to the ground, the portal flared to life.
With a searing pulse of light and a shrill hum, the ground beneath him vanished.
Kaelith was flung backward, the illusion realm folding in on itself like torn parchment.
He landed hard, coughing, as his body slammed against the grass outside the training yard.
His red blade skidded across the stone, coming to rest beside him.
"Ugh… dammit…" he groaned, rolling onto his back.
The sky above had darkened a bit.
Behind him, the portal sealed itself shut with a deep hiss, almost judgmental.
Kaelith lay still, every muscle screaming, every breath ragged.
Not from pain alone.
But from the sting of defeat.
Then, after a moment, he chuckled, low, bitter, breathless.
"Well… guess I found my limit."
Reaching into the pouch on his belt, he pulled out the mana restoration pill the bitter one and swallowed it without hesitation.
His throat burned.
Kaelith stood slowly, brushing the dust from his robes.
"Time really flies in there... must've been the training," he muttered under his breath.
He picked up the sword and returned it to the rack where he had found it.
"Now to face whatever that bastard of a father has planned."
He paused at the gate, his brows furrowing as he muttered to himself.
"Let me guess… He'll act all calm, then throw in some veiled threat about duty and alliances. Maybe even try to guilt-trip me with that 'you're a prince of Vireas' speech."
Kaelith scoffed, rolling his eyes.
"Or worse… he'll bring up Caelum again. Probably suggest I 'try harder' in this marriage. Hmph. As if I owe him anything."
He walked out of the yard, still muttering under his breath.
"Whatever it is… I'll keep my cool. I just need to survive the conversation without flipping a table."
Without glancing back, he turned and walked out of the training yard and completely unaware that Caelum had vanished from the ivy-shadowed archway mere seconds earlier.