The moonlight bled silver through the academy's high windows, spilling in thin sheets across the polished floor. Outside, the blossoms had fallen silent, their petals drifting like faint snow in the midnight stillness.
Inside the sparring hall, the cold hummed. Empty. Waiting.
Rin sat cross-legged in the center, robes loosened, his hair still damp from the bath. His body was clean, but his mind restless. Every scar of battle—seen and unseen—echoed inside him. He set the Gluttony Sword aside, its dark steel humming faintly as if mocking him for tonight's trial.
Across from him, Rose Sylvanyr stood barefoot on the runes, her crimson hair shimmering under lantern-light. Her posture was effortless, almost regal, but her eyes were sharp, focused entirely on him.
"Close your eyes," she commanded. Her voice carried no softness—it was steady, cutting, a teacher's blade hidden in velvet.
Rin obeyed, shutting the world out.
"Breathe. Slowly. In through your nose, out through your mouth. You fight with rhythm—you must also breathe with rhythm."
His chest rose and fell, air cooling his throat.
"Now," she continued, stepping closer, her tone dropping lower, deliberate, "picture your veins as rivers. In those rivers flows your ice. Not wild torrents… but streams. You control their current. Not the blade. Not the battlefield. You."
Rin's brows furrowed. He reached inward. At once the frost inside him surged like a storm, cold and endless, spilling without order. His jaw tightened as his aura leaked, frost creeping along the floor in jagged cracks.
Rose exhaled lightly through her nose. "Sloppy. Again."
Her hand lifted, palm outward. Frost bloomed from her skin in a perfect sphere, balanced, smooth, its edges shimmering like glass spun by moonlight. She circled it across her forearm, then dissolved it without effort.
"This is balance. Creation and release. No waste." Her gaze cut into him. "Now try."
Rin's eyes glimmered with determination as he raised his hand. He imagined the frost flowing, tried to guide it like water into a single pool. For a heartbeat, cold gathered at his palm, shimmering faintly. But then it burst outward, shards scattering across the floor in a violent spray.
He hissed, clutching his wrist.
Rose's tone sharpened, but not cruel. "You push too hard. Ice is not rage—it is focus. Again."
Sweat traced a line down Rin's temple. His breathing steadied, his mind battling frustration. Again. He drew the cold inward. Again, it leaked, coating his arm, freezing the floor. His lips tightened, but he endured.
Minutes dragged into an hour. Frost spidered out in uncontrolled bursts. Sometimes too weak, fading before it formed; sometimes too strong, erupting into jagged ice spikes that cracked and fell uselessly. Each failure weighed on him.
Rose did not waver. Her voice was the metronome. "Slower. Focus on one point. Feel it collect. Don't chase it—guide it."
Finally, on his seventh attempt, frost gathered evenly across his palm, a thin sheet glowing faintly blue. Small. Imperfect. But steady.
Rin opened his eyes, chest rising and falling, sweat clinging to his jaw. The frost pulsed, fragile but alive. His breath left him in a sharp exhale of relief.
Rose watched, her expression unreadable for a long silence. Then, faintly, her lips curved—not mockery, but acknowledgment.
"Better," she said, her tone quieter now, but firm. "Now move it. Arm. Shoulder. Chest. Circulate it. One stream through the body."
Rin nodded once, determination burning through exhaustion. He pressed the frost inward. It slid clumsily up his wrist, flickered along his arm, then vanished. His veins burned, his muscles ached.
He gritted his teeth. Not yet. Again.
Rose stepped back into the shadows, watching him struggle, her voice like cold steel echoing through the chamber:
"This is only the beginning. Tomorrow, you will still fail. And the day after. Until one day, the ice obeys without thought."
Rin closed his eyes again, breath steadying, his palm glowing faintly with frostlight. His body trembled, but his spirit did not bend.
"I'll make it obey," he whispered, voice hoarse but resolute.
The night stretched on, silence broken only by the slow rhythm of his breath—and the faint crackle of frost that refused to yield.
The dining hall of the Sylvanyr Academy shimmered with a brilliance that felt almost unreal. Lanterns of woven crystal floated high overhead, glowing with gentle light drawn from mana-cores suspended in their hearts. Instead of torches or electricity, every source of light pulsed with the rhythm of living energy—flickering like fireflies trapped in glass.
The long tables were not wood but grown—living branches hardened into smooth surfaces, carved with delicate runes that adjusted their height and temperature to suit the meal. Plates gleamed like porcelain, but their edges rippled faintly, grown from mineralized mana rather than forged.
Rin sat across from Rose at the high table reserved for the Queen's bloodline. Dozens of students stole glances at him from the lower rows, whispers spilling like waves across the chamber. He ignored them, focusing instead on the steaming dishes placed before him.
The food was… art.
Thinly sliced river fish, scales still glimmering with faint bioluminescence, rested atop a bed of glowing rice infused with frostlotus nectar. Vegetables, crisp and green, were carved into shapes of blossoms, their veins glowing faintly with mana that hummed when bitten into. A broth simmered in a crystal bowl, its surface reflecting the light above, carrying scents of mint, ginger, and frostpetal.
Rin took his first bite, and for a moment, the day's exhaustion dulled. The flavor was sharp but refreshing, warmth flooding his chest in contrast to the icy exhaustion still lingering from meditation.
Rose's gaze flicked toward him from across the table. She ate slowly, elegantly, each movement deliberate. Her crimson hair caught the lamplight, the gold woven into her earrings glinting with every tilt of her head.
"You've improved," she said casually, as though they were discussing weather rather than his training. "A handful of frost obeyed you tonight. That's more than most achieve in their first month."
Rin set down his chopsticks, eyes steady. "It wasn't enough. I could barely hold it before it shattered."
A faint curve touched her lips—not a smile, exactly, but an acknowledgement. "Perfection isn't the point. Obedience is. Frost will fight you. It's in your blood to rage. The lesson is to make it yield."
Her tone sharpened briefly, a flicker of steel beneath velvet. "Do not mistake progress for mastery."
Rin's eyes glimmered faintly in the crystal light, determination hard as tempered ice. "I won't."
The hall bustled with quiet conversation, the clink of crystal cutlery against living plates. Outside, the faint hum of the city's mana-grid pulsed through the walls like a heartbeat, an ever-present reminder of Sylvanyr's advancement. Rin ate in silence, every bite measured, his posture sharp despite the weight dragging at his limbs.
When the meal ended, Rose set down her glass and rose to her feet in one fluid motion. The students nearby lowered their gazes instinctively as her presence brushed over them.
She looked to Rin, her voice carrying effortlessly across the chamber.
"Let's go home."
The city of Sylvanyr unfolded beneath the night sky like a dream painted in light.
They stepped out onto one of the elevated bridges, the air cool and fragrant with blossoms. Rivers cut through the heart of the city, their waters glowing faintly with mana-crystals scattered along the banks like stars fallen to earth. Above them, platforms of polished stone and living wood spiraled around massive cherry-blossom trees, their branches heavy with petals that glowed like lanterns.
Bridges crisscrossed the skyline, suspended by crystal spires, each one humming faintly as energy pulsed through it. Sleek carriages, not pulled by horses but floating on levitation arrays, glided silently across the higher roads. Mana screens projected faint holograms of news and art into the night air, dissolving into motes when passed.
And yet, despite the technological splendor, the soul of the city remained untouched. Families sat at lantern-lit balconies overlooking rivers. Children laughed as petals drifted into their hands. Musicians played harps woven of crystal strings, their notes carried on enchanted breezes.
Rin walked beside Rose in silence, his eyes drawn to the endless bloom of Sylvanyr's beauty. His heart still beat with the rhythm of training, his body heavy from exhaustion, but even he could not deny the majesty surrounding him.
"This city…" he murmured, more to himself than to her. "It's alive."
Rose's gaze flicked toward him, her profile sharp beneath the silver glow of the moon. "It is. Every stone here was grown, not built. Every light drawn from the World Tree's blessing. It is a city born of patience."
Her tone softened, just slightly, though her eyes remained distant. "Patience is what you lack. That is why you struggle. But patience can be learned."
Rin's jaw tightened. He said nothing, but his eyes glimmered faintly, the frostlight in his veins answering unspoken.
At the base of the next bridge, a sleek carriage awaited them—its frame carved of silverwood, its body floating inches above the ground on humming runes. A crest of the Sylvanyr royal line glowed faintly on its side.
The butler bowed as the pair approached, his uniform immaculate, his hair bound neatly with a silver clasp. "Lady Rose. Lord Rin." His voice was smooth, formal, touched with the respect of one addressing nobility. "Your carriage is prepared."
Rose inclined her head in acknowledgment and stepped in first, her movements as fluid as flowing frost. Rin followed, settling opposite her as the door sealed with a soft hiss. The interior was lined with crystal panels that shifted color with the passengers' aura, filling the cabin with faint blues and silvers.
The carriage lifted, gliding silently into the night.
Through the windows, Rin watched as the city passed beneath them—blossoms swirling in the wind, lanterns glittering like constellations, bridges weaving a tapestry of light across the sky. The hum of the carriage blended with the distant song of flowing rivers, the pulse of mana, the laughter of a thousand lives lived in peace.
Rose leaned back, her expression unreadable in the shifting glow. For a while, silence reigned between them, heavy but not uncomfortable.
At last, the carriage descended into the academy's inner court. The butler stepped down first, opening the door with a bow. Rose exited gracefully, then paused, glancing back at Rin as he lingered in the doorway.
"Don't stay up brooding," she said lightly, though her eyes held steel beneath the jest. "Tomorrow is another failure waiting to happen. You'll need rest to face it."
Rin's lips curved faintly, more shadow than smile. "Then I'll fail better tomorrow."
Her laugh was soft, amused, before she turned away into the night.
Rin returned alone to his chamber. The city's glow faded behind him, replaced by the quiet hum of mana-crystals lining the academy halls. He removed his robe, set the Sovereign Blade beside his bed, and lowered himself onto the mattress.
His body ached from meditation, his veins raw, his mind heavy with Rose's words. But beneath the exhaustion, a spark burned.
He closed his eyes. Frost coiled faintly at his fingertips, uncontrolled but present.
"One step at a time," he whispered to the dark.
The moonlight spilled across the floor, silver and soft, as sleep finally claimed him.