Five months had passed like water through claws.
Null's body had grown—where once he'd been the size of a large horse, now he stood as tall as a small building. His cosmic scales had deepened, the stars within them burning brighter, galaxies spinning in more complex patterns.
Every night, while the castle slept, he haunted the abandoned chamber. Ether circulation had become second nature—he could maintain it through sleep now.
His projection had evolved from formless wisps to semi-solid constructs, though they lacked color and element.
But Genius Mind hadn't just changed how he learned. It had changed how he thought. He was more analytical now, more detached, more efficient.
Emotions felt muted, like echoes of what they used to be. What would future ones do if one skill could shift his perspective this much? What if he created something that warped his emotions entirely? His instincts? His morality?
Not all power came without cost. He'd need to be careful with what he created.
Countdown: 215 days remaining.
The morning brought combat training. Aurora stood in the center of the training grounds, golden hair loose—she only wore it loose when she intended serious combat.
"No warm-up. You have ten seconds to survive."
She vanished. Null's wings flared instantly, launching him backward as the air where he'd stood exploded. Aurora's fist had broken the sound barrier. He twisted mid-flight, using his tail as a rudder to spin away from her follow-up strike.
Her hand grazed his scales, the heat from her solar ether singing them black.
He dove toward the ground, wings folded tight against his body. Aurora pursued from above, a golden comet of destruction. At the last second, Null spread one wing, spinning himself violently to the left.
The drag sent him tumbling, but it was unpredictable. Aurora's punch cratered the ground instead of his skull.
Null used the dust cloud for cover, channeling ether through his legs. He launched himself up at an angle, claws extended toward where Aurora should be—she'd already moved. Her knee caught him in the spine, driving him back into the dirt.
He managed to get his tail between them, pushing her away before she could follow up. Rolling to his feet, he saw her coming again—from the side, low and fast. Null jumped straight up, wings beating hard to gain altitude.
Aurora changed direction impossibly fast, rocketing up after him. He folded his wings and dropped, her punch passing inches from his snout. The wind pressure alone spun him like a leaf.
She was waiting when he stopped spinning. Her palm strike came from below. Null crossed both wings in front of him, channeling all his ether into a reinforced block. The impact felt like getting hit by a mountain. His wings held, barely, but the force launched him into the sky.
Aurora appeared above him before he could recover, her heel descending toward his head. Null twisted desperately, taking the kick on his shoulder instead of his skull.
Something cracked. He spiraled toward the ground, managing to get his wings open just before impact. The landing was ugly—he hit hard, bounced, and skidded across the crystal grass, leaving a trench.
Ten seconds," Aurora announced, landing gracefully beside him.
Null lay there for a moment, shoulder throbbing, wings aching. He'd lasted the full ten seconds. Barely. "You're overthinking," Aurora said, pulling him to his feet. "When you calculate everything, you become predictable. Sometimes instinct is faster than analysis. You survived, but you're thinking so much you can't see what's right in front of you."
They sparred for three more hours. Null dodged more strikes than ever before—weaving between her punches, using his smaller size to slip through gaps in her attacks, and even redirecting one of her strikes with his tail. But Aurora remained untouchable.
Every time he thought he had her pattern, she shifted to chaos. When he relied on instinct, she exploited the lack of strategy. She demonstrated the difference between them with brutal efficiency.
A casual backhand sent him through a training boulder. A light tap of her tail folded him in half. When he tried to go entirely aerial, she plucked him from the sky like picking fruit, slamming him into the ground hard enough to leave a dragon-shaped crater.
By the end, he couldn't stand. Every part of his body screamed in protest. Aurora stood over him, not even breathing hard.
"You're improving, but combat isn't just calculation. Stop thinking so much." She helped him stand, her expression softening.
"I've taken on a new disciple. Come to the throne room tonight. You can meet them. You spend too much time training and not enough being a young dragon. Or a prince. Try to act your age for once, little star."
After she left, Null remained on the shattered training ground. A new disciple meant Aurora saw potential in someone else. He'd rather be training, but his mother had asked. That was enough.
That evening, Null meditated in his secret chamber. The room had evolved over five months—claw marks on the walls mapped ether circulation routes, scorch marks from failed projection attempts created abstract patterns. He reviewed the spar in his memory. He'd lasted ten seconds.
Dodged more than ever. But still couldn't touch Aurora. The gap between them seemed infinite. No, not infinite. She had centuries of experience, a fully developed body, and had mastered the element. He had five months, a juvenile form, and dormant power. Time would close the gap.
His next skill would be crucial. Ether Breathing remained the logical choice—passive accumulation would compound over the years. But maybe something else would synergize better with Genius Mind. He'd decide when the time came. The countdown glowed: 214 days, 16 hours, 32 minutes.
"I guess I just keep getting stronger," he said to his reflection in a broken piece of obsidian, his cosmic eyes swirling with galaxies.
"Until I can't get any stronger."
But even as he said it, he knew that point would never come. There was no ceiling—only continuous evolution.