The road to strength

The weight of Aurora's words hung heavy in the air. Six months to reach A+ rank. It sounded impossible, but there was no room for doubt. If I wanted to survive the trials—and the Underworld—I had to push beyond my limits.

Aurora crossed her arms, her piercing gaze sizing me up. "Your resolve is commendable, Kuro, but determination alone won't get you there. Your skills are still raw, and your control over your powers is unstable."

I nodded, wiping the sweat from my brow. "Then teach me. Show me what I need to do."

A small smirk tugged at her lips. "Careful what you wish for. Training under me won't be easy. No shortcuts, no mercy."

I straightened my back, meeting her gaze with unyielding resolve. "I wouldn't want it any other way."

She stepped closer, her expression hardening. "Good. We'll start by refining your shadow manipulation. Your sword is a reflection of your strength, but it's useless if you can't maintain its form. Control is everything."

Aurora extended her hand, summoning a blade of shadows so sharp it seemed to cut through the very air. The weapon was flawless, its edges shimmering with an otherworldly glow.

"Focus," she instructed, her voice firm. "Your shadow sword must become an extension of your will. Close your eyes. Feel the energy within you and shape it into something more than just a crude weapon."

I did as she said, closing my eyes and steadying my breathing. The chaotic energy within me stirred, wild and untamed. I reached for it, trying to mold it into the shape of a blade. For a moment, it felt like I had it, but then it flickered and dissipated.

Aurora sighed. "You're forcing it. Shadows aren't meant to be controlled with brute strength. They require finesse—an understanding of their nature. Try again."

This time, I let go of the frustration and approached the energy with patience. Slowly, the shadows coalesced in my hand, forming a crude but stable sword. It wasn't perfect, but it was a start.

Aurora nodded in approval. "Better. Now, maintain it while you move. If you lose focus, it will shatter."

She stepped back, summoning her own weapon. "Defend yourself."

Before I could protest, she lunged. Her strikes were precise and unrelenting, forcing me to block and dodge with everything I had. Each time I faltered, my shadow sword wavered, threatening to dissolve.

"You call that focus?" she taunted, her blade clashing against mine. "If you can't hold your weapon, you might as well surrender now."

Her words stung, but they drove me to try harder. With each clash, I learned to adapt, to steady the flow of energy. By the time the session ended, my sword was still intact—a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

Aurora lowered her weapon, her breathing steady. "Not bad for a beginner. But you're still far from ready."

I nodded, my body aching but my spirit unbroken. "I'll get there. Just watch me."

She smirked, a hint of pride in her eyes. "We'll see. For now, rest. Tomorrow, we push harder."

As the days turned into weeks, our training intensified. Aurora was relentless, pushing me to the brink of exhaustion every day. But with each session, I grew stronger. My shadow sword became more refined, my movements more precise, and my control over my powers more stable.

But it wasn't just my skills that improved. Aurora's guidance, though harsh, revealed the depth of her knowledge. She wasn't just a trainer; she was a survivor, someone who had seen the harshness of the Underworld and lived to tell the tale.

One night, as we sat by the campfire, she broke the silence. "You know, Kuro, you're not the first demon to try and challenge the odds. Most fail. They give up or die before they can achieve anything meaningful."

I met her gaze, curiosity stirring within me. "What about you? Why do you keep fighting?"

Her eyes softened, the usual edge in her voice replaced by something quieter. "Because giving up isn't an option. Not for me, and not for you. If you're serious about becoming the Demon King, you'd better hold onto that resolve."

Her words resonated deeply. I didn't just want to survive—I wanted to prove to myself, to Aurora, and to the Underworld that I could rise above the odds.

Six months. It felt like an eternity, yet not nearly enough time. But as I stared into the fire, the embers glowing like tiny stars, I knew one thing for certain: I wouldn't stop until I reached the top.