WHAM.
The force came without warning.
One moment Scarlett was bracing herself, nerves stretched thin like a bowstring pulled too far. The next, it felt as though the sky itself had collapsed.
Pressure—vast, merciless, absolute—crashed down on her shoulders.
It was not merely weight. It was authority. An unseen will bearing down, crushing her into the pond with such violence that her body slammed into the stone bed beneath the water.
Her lungs emptied in a silent gasp as she was forced down.
Down.
Down.
The water swallowed her completely, yet she barely noticed the cold. Every sensation was eclipsed by the overwhelming force pressing against her body, compressing her bones, squeezing her organs as though she were nothing more than soft clay in a giant's hands.
Her teeth clenched instinctively.
Too hard.
Pain exploded through her jaw, and for one horrifying second she thought they might actually shatter. She forced herself to loosen them slightly, even as her fingers clawed into the slick stone beneath her, nails scraping uselessly as if the ground itself could anchor her.
She wanted to scream.
She couldn't.
The pressure crushed the air from her chest, pinned her throat closed, flattened her voice before it could exist. Even her thoughts felt heavy, slowed, like wading through thick mud.
Something unseen pressed down harder.
Her bones creaked.
Then cracked.
A sharp, unmistakable sound echoed through her body—dull and sickening, like green wood snapping under strain. Pain erupted, white and blinding, tearing through her nerves in violent waves.
Her ribs fractured.
Her spine screamed.
Her organs compressed further, forced into spaces they were never meant to occupy.
And then—
Her meridians shattered.
Not metaphorically.
Not gently.
They ruptured all at once, like glass veins exploding inside her body. The pathways through which mana flowed were torn apart violently, shredding her from the inside out.
Scarlett's consciousness flared.
This was it.
This was death.
But before the darkness could fully claim her—
They rebuilt.
Heat surged through her body, fierce and relentless. The broken pathways knit themselves together again, not as they were before, but thicker. Wider. More resilient.
The pain did not lessen.
It intensified.
Before she could process what had happened—
They shattered again.
Rebuilt.
Shattered.
Rebuilt.
Over and over.
Each time stronger.
Each time more expansive.
Each time more painful.
There was no rhythm to it, no mercy, no pause long enough for relief. Pain layered upon pain until it became a constant, all-consuming existence. Her body was caught in a brutal cycle of destruction and rebirth, and she was forced to experience every moment of it.
Time lost meaning.
Minutes blurred into hours.
Hours stretched into something indistinct and endless.
Her consciousness flickered like a dying candle, wavering dangerously close to going out entirely. Each time she drifted toward the edge, Something yanked her back.
It was not mercy, It was purpose.
A will too strong , dragging her consciousness back into her broken body again and again, forcing her to endure.
To survive.
The word echoed without sound not as encouragement, As command.
Scarlett lost count of how many times she broke, Lost count of how many times she was rebuilt.
At some point, her body stopped reacting with panic.
Pain became… familiar.
Not tolerable, Never tolerable.
But predictable.
She learned, slowly, unconsciously, how to breathe through it. How to let the pressure roll through her instead of resisting it head-on. How to allow the force to crush her without letting it shatter her will alongside her body.
She began to adapt, she needs to adapt, she has to survive.
Her fingers loosened their death grip on the stone.
Her body stopped thrashing.
Her mind, stripped of everything unnecessary, narrowed its focus to a single point.
Endure, Survive.
Little by little, imperceptibly, the pressure no longer felt like an execution.
It still hurt.
Gods, it still hurt.
But it no longer felt like the end.
And then—slowly—she moved.
At first, it was barely noticeable. A twitch of her fingers. A subtle shift in her shoulders as she adjusted her posture under the immense weight pressing her down.
The pressure did not ease.
She simply grew stronger beneath it.
Her body trembled violently as she forced herself upright inch by inch, muscles screaming in protest, bones groaning under the strain. Every movement felt like defying the laws of the world itself.
Finally, after what felt like days or perhaps an eternity, Scarlett managed to sit.
Her legs crossed beneath her, Her back straightened.
She assumed a meditation posture at the bottom of the pond, the crushing pressure still bearing down on her like a mountain.
Her breathing steadied.
In.
Out.
Slow.
Controlled.
Mana began to circulate on its own, flowing through her newly forged meridians with surprising smoothness. Where once it had stuttered and clogged, now it moved like a raging river forced into a broader channel.
Her body adapted.
Her will hardened.
"…Not bad," the voice finally said.
It sounded almost… amused.
Scarlett did not respond.
She remained seated, eyes closed, chest rising and falling with quiet, measured breaths. Her face was calm—too calm, perhaps, given what she had endured.
Inside, she was anything but.
If the pain had truly faded, she might have laughed.
If the terror had fully passed, she might have collapsed.
But right now?
Right now, she wanted to scream.
She wanted to curse.
She wanted to grab the unseen being by the throat and demand an explanation for every second of agony she had been put through.
Instead—
She remained still.
The pressure lifted gradually, like a mountain being peeled away layer by layer. When it finally vanished entirely, Scarlett nearly collapsed forward, her body suddenly too light, too free.
She caught herself.
Slowly, deliberately, she rose to her feet.
Her movements were unsteady at first, but she remained upright. Water streamed down her ruined clothes, clinging to her battered form, yet her spine stayed straight.
She turned—not knowing where the voice truly was—and lowered herself to one knee.
Her palm and fist came together in a formal salute, steady despite the lingering tremor in her limbs.
"Disciple acknowledges Master," she said.
Her voice was hoarse.
Quiet.
But unwavering.
For a heartbeat, there was silence.
Then—
The space erupted with laughter.
"Yo yo yo yo yo—!"
The sound echoed endlessly, loud and unrestrained, reverberating through the strange dimension like thunder rolling across an open sky.
"My successor has been chosen!"
The declaration rang out, heavy with finality.