Asteria's eyes snapped open.
Her breath hitched, the phantom sensation of the being's flick tingling on her forehead. The infirmary room felt too small, the air too quiet. The medicinal scent of the room making a stark contrast with the flowery rot of her hunger-infested soul sea.
She didn't look at the heart rate monitor or the IV line attached to her. She looked at the girl by the window.
Nephis sat with a stillness that was unnatural, her silver hair shimmering like cold moonlight. She hadn't moved an inch, but her presence was a heavy, suffocating weight.
"You're awake," Nephis said. Her voice was flat, devoid of the jagged edges Asteria had expected.
Asteria sat up, her jaw tight, ignoring the way her head throbbed. The obsessive hunger was a dull ache now, a sated predator resting in the back of her skull. "Is that why you're here? To study the pathetic rat you found? I don't need your pity."
Nephis didn't flinch at the venom. Instead, she tilted her head, her pale eyes boring into Asteria's. "I'm here because the Academy is full of people who want to use you, and people who want to kill you." A pause, long enough to let Asteria think and brief enough to not let her get a word in. "So which will it be?"
She leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper.
"The Spell calls you Queen. But right now, you look like a servant of that same Spell. What do you think I saw when you hit that plate, Your Majesty? "
'That same degrading tone, that same name. Are all these legacies the same?' She spat internally.
Asteria felt a prickle of heat behind her eyelids. She wanted to lash out, to scream at this damn legacy princess who looked at her with such clinical pity.
"I don't care what you saw," Asteria hissed, her fingers curling into the white bedsheets. "I don't need the Changing Star to tell me I'm a mess. I've known that since I was five years old."
"I didn't say you were a mess," Nephis corrected her calmly, "I saw someone desperate to survive. Someone who can change the fate of a nation, a desperation so deep it was bordering obsession."
Nephis stood up, her movement was as fluid and silent as a feather. She walked closer, just outside of Asteria's reach.
"The other clans are afraid of you, Asteria. Caster is already making calls to the Han Li clan. They see a girl from the outskirts with a True Name and the strength impossible for a Sleeper." Nephis paused, her gaze dropping to the center of Asteria's chest. "They see a threat. Now, I don't care about their order or their rules. I just want to know if that strength is yours or just a facade."
Asteria let out a sharp, jagged laugh. "You want to know if I'm a monster? Look around, Nephis. We're all monsters. You're just a monster who looks more human than the rest of us. "
'Of course she's right, when isn't she? Arrogant legacy princess... '
"I'm not going to be anyone's puppet," Asteria continued, her voice turning cold and steady. "Not the Clans, not the Spell, and certainly not yours. So if you're looking for a loyal subject for your little revolution, look somewhere else."
Nephis stared at her for a long time. Then, the corner of her mouth twitched – not of a smile, but of recognition.
"Good," Nephis said, turning toward the door. "Because the last thing this world needs is another Queen. What it needs is someone hungry enough to eat the gods."
She stopped at the threshold, looking back over her shoulder.
"Training starts at dawn. Don't be late, Queen of Nightmare."
**
True to Nephis's word, they were in the dojo at the crack of dawn. Or at least, that was when Asteria arrived, nursing a headache and a soul that felt like it had been put through a meat grinder.
She stopped at the threshold, blinking. Nephis was already there, her skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat.
'Is she already done working out? It's not even six in the morning… Damnation, am I late?'
"Asteria, you're finally here." Nephis motioned toward an array of practice weapons behind her. "I thought you were never coming."
'Psycho,' Asteria thought, her face a mask of disbelief. "I came at dawn, like you said," she mumbled under her breath.
Nephis didn't acknowledge the grumbling. She plucked a practice sword from the rack – one similar in weight and length to the [Obsidian Glass] blade – and tossed it. "Catch. I figured you'd prefer a longsword since you're already familiar with one."
Asteria caught the hilt, the wood feeling blunt and clumsy compared to her Memory.
"However," Nephis continued, her pale eyes locking onto Asteria's, "I have one question for you today."
'Here it comes,' Asteria braced herself. 'Is she going to ask how many marathons I've ran with weights on my back?'
"What is the essence of combat?" Nephis asked.
A heavy weight seemed to settle on Asteria's shoulders. The question wasn't a casual one; it felt like a test. 'It'sto survive, isn't it? What else could it be? Unless…' Her thoughts drifted back to the violet ink and the hunger in her core.
"I want to say survival," Asteria began, an unusual streak of confidence sharpening her voice. "But that's not quite it, is it? The essence is to kill. It's the intent to end your opponent. It doesn't matter how you do it, but in the end, it's still survival by way of slaughter. Kill or be killed."
Nephis let out a small, faint smile. It was the first time Asteria had seen her look genuinely relieved. "You're correct. Surprising, really."
'I was right,' Asteria thought, her stomach churning. 'She really is a psychopath who only thinks about ending lives. And this is the person teaching me?'
"Oh, really?" Asteria gestured around the empty, cold hall. "Are you sure this isn't just a prelude for my own assassination?" She let out a dry, jagged chuckle.
Nephis didn't laugh. She just stared.
"The principles I'm going to teach you carry over to most bladed weapons," Nephis said, moving into a stance. "A longsword can be used in one hand, but it wasn't designed for it. Its true potential is realized with two. Dominant hand near the crossguard, non-dominant near the pommel."
She demonstrated a "handshake" grip, her movements fluid and hauntingly precise. "The longsword is leverage-based. When one hand pushes, the other pulls."
Nephis performed a downward slash. The hand near the pommel acted as a fulcrum, snapping the blade down with terrifying speed. "That is the bare basics. Now, your turn."
Asteria gripped her sword, imitating the stance. She raised the wood and slashed down. It felt... okay. But Nephis was already shaking her head.
"A strike doesn't come from the hands, Asteria. It comes from the earth. The power flows from your feet, through your hips, into your core, and finally through your shoulders. Only then is it transmitted to the hands. Like this."
Nephis moved again. This time, Asteria didn't look at the sword. She watched the way Nephis's feet shifted, the way her hips rotated to generate a torque that looked effortless but carried the weight of a falling mountain.
Asteria wasn't entirely clueless. Being an "Outskirts rat" meant she knew how to throw a desperate punch or dodge a sharp bottle. The principles of a sword weren't that different from a street brawl; they were just more refined. More polite about the violence.
For the next half hour, Asteria performed the same downward slash. Over and over. Nephis watched her with the clinical intensity of a scientist, occasionally offering a sharp pointer. Finally, Nephis nodded.
"Good."
'Thank God,' Asteria exhaled, her shoulders burning. 'Have I become good enough to not die instantly yet?'
Nephis looked at her with something that looked suspiciously like pride. "Now, do that one thousand more times."
Asteria's heart nearly stopped. 'One thousand? Did I hear that right?' She gave a sheepish, strained smile. "Do you mind repeating that?"
Nephis's face returned to its default, blank stare. "One thousand swings. Now, preferably. I'd suggest more, but I think a thousand is a good starting point for a beginner."
Asteria forced herself to keep smiling – a lie of a smile that felt like it was cracking her face. "I see… thank you for the pointers."
She meant it, mostly. But as Nephis walked away to sit by the wall with a bottle of water, Asteria felt her nerves snapping. She gripped the sword again and began to count.
One.
The training sword whirred through the air.
Two.
The wood felt heavier with every rep.
Three.
By the time she hit the hundreds, her mind started to go numb. The stress in her muscles became a background hum, drowned out by the rhythmic swoosh of the air.