Training worst then hell

As the artificial sun of the void realm rose, Austin entered the barren training grounds. Sonya was slumped against a rock, her body drenched in sweat, her hair clinging to her face. Dark circles had formed under her eyes, but she was still breathing. She survived another day.

Austin narrowed his blue eyes and sighed. "Pathetic."

He picked up a wooden bucket filled with cold water and splashed it over her head without hesitation.

Sonya jolted awake with a sharp gasp, her eyes flying open in pure shock. "W-what the hell?!"

Austin leaned down, smirking. "Consider this a bath. You reek."

She glared at him, clenching her fists. "You bastard…"

Ignoring her complaints, Austin snapped his fingers. The ground trembled beneath them, and the rocky terrain shifted. Dozens of towering golems rose from the earth, their bodies made of obsidian and steel, their eyes glowing with ancient runic energy.

"These," he said, motioning towards them, "are your opponents today."

Sonya, still groggy, instinctively raised her hands, preparing a spell—only for Austin to slap her arm down.

"No magic."

She turned to him, furious. "Are you insane?!"

Austin's gaze was cold. "You've spent the last 9 years honing your spells. But if you only rely on magic, you will die the moment you face someone who can counter it."

Her breath hitched. She knew he was right.

Sonya had no time to argue. The golems attacked instantly, their massive fists swinging toward her. She rolled to the side, barely dodging the first blow. Dust and debris exploded into the air as the ground cracked beneath the weight of their strikes.

And so, her endless battle began.

Days passed in the void room. Then weeks. Then years.

She fought. She fell. She bled. She broke bones, dislocated shoulders, and screamed in frustration—but she kept fighting.

Twenty-four years.

Twenty-four years of nothing but battle, survival, and exhaustion.

But strangely… she was never thirsty. Never hungry. She did not age.

The void world denied her body's natural needs, forcing her to focus solely on the fight.

And yet—after all this time, even as she destroyed her last golem, even as her muscles burned and her body ached—Austin's words cut deeper than any wound.

"If you struggle this much against mindless rock, you have no chance in a real battle."

Rage boiled inside her.

Why?! Why was he never satisfied?

Sonya clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. She had spent decades in this realm, suffering through his brutal training.

And yet—to him, it wasn't enough.

A dangerous thought took root in her mind.

I will kill him before he kills me.

No matter what it takes.

As the dust settled around her, Sonya could barely stand. Her arms were trembling, her knees weak, her breath ragged. But she had survived.

Austin, standing a few feet away with his arms crossed, watched her with an amused expression. His blue eyes glowed under the void's unnatural light.

"You look good after a battle," he mused.

Sonya shot him a glare, gritting her teeth. "You ruthless bastard."

He merely chuckled. "Cursing me won't get you anywhere. You should save your energy." Then, as if he hadn't just put her through twenty-four years of relentless combat, he said, "Now, shall we move on to the next phase?"

Before she could react, he snapped his fingers.

The world around them shifted.

The barren wasteland transformed into a vast battlefield. The scent of blood and steel filled the air. War banners waved in the wind. And before them—an entire army stood, lined up in formation, waiting.

The soldiers wore dark red and black armor, their faces obscured by metal helms. Their weapons gleamed under the artificial sun.

Austin's voice was calm as he gestured to the battlefield.

"This," he said, "is the army of Nanthalan. An enemy nation I fought several years ago."

Sonya's stomach tightened.

"This isn't just training anymore, is it?" she muttered.

Austin smirked. "What do you think?"

Sonya felt something was different. Unlike the golems, these warriors had presence. They were alive.

Or at least… they felt alive.

"You need to defeat them and take the enemy general's head."

Sonya's breath hitched. "Alone?"

Austin's smile didn't falter. "Of course. Or did you expect me to hold your hand?"

She wanted to argue. She wanted to say it was impossible.

But she knew better.

If she hesitated, he would abandon her here.

She clenched her fists and took a deep breath. No time to think. No time to rest.

The soldiers in front of her began to move.

The first wave came like a tidal force.

Sonya barely dodged the first spear thrust. The wind pressure alone sliced a shallow cut across her cheek. She twisted her body, summoning fire to her fingertips—but a second soldier was already on her, swinging his sword.

She blocked with a hastily formed mana barrier, but the force of the impact sent her skidding back.

These enemies were stronger. Faster. Smarter.

Not like the mindless golems.

These men had instincts.

She had only seconds to react before a third soldier swung a massive axe toward her head. She dropped to the ground just in time—the blade barely missing her skull.

She rolled away and launched a counterattack, flames bursting from her palm. The soldier screamed as fire engulfed him, but more replaced him instantly.

Austin, watching from above the battlefield, chuckled to himself.

"Good," he murmured. "She's adjusting."

But adjusting wasn't enough.

The army didn't stop.

Sonya was forced to keep moving, keep dodging, keep killing.

Her fire burned through rows of enemies. Her wind magic sliced through armor. She fought, and fought, and fought.

Days passed.

Then weeks.

Then months.

She lost count.

Every time she thought she had won, a new challenge appeared.

She was injured again and again.

She learned to fight without magic when her mana ran out.

She learned to steal weapons from fallen enemies.

She learned to survive.

And then, finally—she reached the general.

He stood at the peak of a mountain of corpses, clad in obsidian-black armor. His crimson cape billowed in the wind. A massive sword rested on his shoulder.

He was the final obstacle.

Sonya, drenched in sweat and blood, stood before him, her fingers twitching.

"You're still standing?" Austin's voice echoed in the distance. "Then finish it."

She tightened her grip on her blade.

And charged.

As Sonya steadied her breathing, her hands trembling around the hilt of her sword, Austin's voice reached her from the edge of the battlefield.

"They're good at anti-magic," he said, his tone almost casual, as if he weren't watching her struggle for her life. "So be careful."

Her eyes widened. Anti-magic?

It made sense now.

Her fire spells had been weaker. Her wind blades, slower. Her body felt heavier every time she tried to channel her mana.

The Nanthalan army wasn't just strong—they countered magic users like her.

Her mind raced. She had relied on her elemental magic for years. She didn't have the training to fight purely with a weapon.

But if she didn't adapt, she would die.

The general stepped forward, his massive sword dragging against the bloodstained earth. His helmet covered his entire face, save for his cold, calculating eyes. He radiated an aura of pure dominance, as if he had seen thousands of battles and emerged victorious every time.

"You're a mage," the general said, his voice like grinding steel. "Mages are weak without their tricks."

Sonya gritted her teeth.

She couldn't let him see her fear.

She adjusted her stance.

If magic wouldn't work, then she had to fight like a warrior.

Austin, watching from a distance, leaned against a tree with his arms crossed. This was the true test.

If she survived this battle, she wouldn't just be stronger—she would become something more.

But if she failed?

Well, he wouldn't need to bother with her anymore.

As the last soldier of the Nanthalan army collapsed before her, Sonya stood amidst the battlefield, her sword trembling in her grip. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her lungs burning for air. Blood—not all of it hers—drenched her clothes, and sweat dripped down her face. Her entire body screamed in agony.

She tried to take a step forward, but her legs buckled. The ground rushed toward her, but before she could hit the dirt, she forced herself upright with sheer willpower.

She had done it.

She had killed them all.

The field was littered with bodies—golems shattered into pieces, Nanthalan warriors lying lifeless, their weapons slipping from their fingers. A thick metallic scent filled the air.

For the first time in what felt like eternity, silence reigned.

Then—

Clap. Clap. Clap.

Austin's slow, deliberate applause echoed through the battlefield.

Sonya turned her head with great effort, her vision blurry from exhaustion. He stood at the edge of the field, untouched, unharmed, untouched by war's filth.

"Magnificent," he mused, amusement lacing his voice. "Simply magnificent. To think a pampered princess could become something resembling a warrior."

Sonya scowled, but she didn't have the strength to retort. She barely had the strength to stand.

Austin snapped his fingers.

In an instant, the bloodied battlefield was gone.

Instead, a long ornate table appeared before her, filled with steaming dishes. The scent of roasted meat, freshly baked bread, and spiced stew filled her nostrils. Fruit, glistening with nectar, sat in golden bowls, and glasses of fine wine sparkled under the dim light of the void room.

Sonya's stomach screamed in hunger, but something about this wasn't right.

"This isn't normal food," she said hoarsely.

Austin smirked. "Of course not. Do you think I'd waste regular meals on you?"

Sonya narrowed her eyes. "What did you put in it?"

"Magic, of course," he said smoothly, stepping closer. "And a few special herbs."

She stiffened. Poison?

Austin seemed to read her mind and chuckled.

"Relax, princess. If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't use such a boring method." He gestured toward the table. "Eat. It will replenish your energy."

Sonya hesitated. Every instinct in her body screamed not to trust him. But the exhaustion in her limbs, the fire in her muscles, the sheer depletion of mana within her—she needed to recover.

She took a cautious step forward.

Then another.

She reached the table, grabbed a piece of bread, and took a slow bite.

The moment it hit her tongue, warmth flooded her veins.

It was as if life itself had returned to her body. The fatigue faded slightly, her wounds tingled as they started healing, and her mana began to flow again.

She tore into the food with newfound hunger.

Austin watched with an amused expression, leaning against the chair opposite her.

"Good," he said. "Eat well, princess. This is only the beginning, because after this, you'll fight me, your final test is to kill me."

Sonya froze, a piece of bread halfway to her lips.

Her fingers trembled slightly, but she forced herself to keep her expression blank. Him? She was going to fight him?

She swallowed the food in her mouth and placed the bread back on the plate carefully, her eyes flickering toward Austin, who stood there with his usual infuriating smirk.

"You," she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

"Well, not exactly me," he corrected, tilting his head. "A mimic. A shadow of myself, if you will. But don't celebrate just yet."

He took a step closer, and the air around them shuddered as his mana surged.

"I will compress its energy to sixty percent of my own. Even then, princess—" His smirk widened, his blue eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "You will die."

Sonya stiffened.

She clenched her fists beneath the table, nails biting into her palm.

After everything she had endured—the years she had fought in this hellish void, the relentless battles, the exhaustion, the agony—was it still not enough?

"Eat well," Austin continued, voice dangerously smooth. "Because after this, you'll wish you never stepped into my study that day."

The air cracked.

Dark mist slithered from his feet, twisting and writhing like living shadows. The temperature dropped sharply, and the once warm glow of the void room turned cold and suffocating.

Sonya felt something crawl up her spine.

The shadows gathered behind Austin, condensing into a single form. A silhouette of a man took shape—tall, broad-shouldered, regal. And then—

It opened its eyes.

Blue. The same piercing, terrifying blue as Austin's. But unlike the real Austin, the mimic's gaze was devoid of amusement.

There was no arrogance.

No mockery.

Just killing intent.

Sonya's breath hitched.

Her instincts screamed DANGER.

"This is your opponent," Austin said, taking a step back. "Let's see how long you last."

The shadow moved.

Faster than anything she had ever fought before.

Sonya barely had time to react before a shockwave slammed into her, sending her crashing backward. Her body hit the cold ground with a sickening thud, her vision spinning.

Pain flared through her ribs.

Her arms burned as she pushed herself up, coughing violently.

Fast. Too fast.

The mimic stood exactly where it had been, its posture relaxed. As if it hadn't even moved.

Sonya gritted her teeth.

Her mind raced. How had it hit her so quickly? Had she even seen it move?

Austin watched from a distance, arms crossed.

"Pathetic," he sighed. "You're already on the ground? I thought you were ready, princess."

Sonya wiped the blood from her lips, her grip tightening around the sword at her waist.

She couldn't lose here.

She wouldn't.

Summoning every ounce of her will, she activated her mana, blue lightning crackling around her fingertips.

Her eyes locked onto the mimic's, and for the first time, she let go of hesitation.

She would fight.

She would win.

Or she would die trying.

Her instincts screamed, but it was too late.

A flash of darkness—

A sharp, searing sensation against her throat—

And then, nothing.

Dead.

Again.

She never even saw the strike.

Ingal.

Air rushed back into her lungs as her eyes snapped open, her body convulsing from the sudden revival.

She gasped, clutching her throat, reliving the last instant before her death.

Austin's voice echoed around her.

"Dead in less than a second. Again."

Her hands trembled. She hadn't even registered the attack. It was like her body had simply shut down.

She struggled to her feet, rage boiling beneath the surface.

The mimic waited. Unmoving. Unfeeling. A perfect killing machine.

Austin leaned lazily against an invisible wall, watching with detached amusement.

"Again," he commanded.

The mimic attacked.

Darkness.

Ingal.

She was alive. Again.

"Too slow."

Again.

Dead.

Again.

Revived.

Again.

Slaughtered.

This cycle repeated hundreds, thousands of times.

The mimic never hesitated. Never tired. Never slowed.

But Sonya did.

Her body screamed, her mind blurred, the endless cycle of death and rebirth warping her sense of time.

The moment she revived, she was killed again.

Her magic? Useless.

Her instincts? Too slow.

Even after forty-eight years of training, she couldn't even touch the mimic.

She was dying over and over—not by magic, not by overwhelming strength, but by pure, unrelenting speed.

Her mind was fracturing.

How much time had passed? How many times had she died?

She no longer knew.

Her hatred burned through the exhaustion, keeping her from breaking.

She would kill him.

Sonya's body screamed in agony, every inch of her battered and broken. Yet, she stood.

Her breathing was ragged, her vision blurred, but her will was unshaken.

The mimic—Austin's shadow—stood before her, unmoving, its hollow, glowing blue eyes devoid of emotion.

She had died at its hands countless times. Not a single victory. Not a single scratch landed.

Yet she refused to stop.

"No… No… I will kill him."

Her voice cracked, but her will blazed brighter than ever.

The air around her shuddered as a surge of magical energy erupted from her body.

Austin, watching from the side, tilted his head slightly.

"Oh?"

A hint of curiosity flickered in his usually indifferent gaze.

Sonya's aura was no longer unstable—it was condensed, sharpened like a blade. Her years of grueling training, her endless cycle of deaths, and her sheer hatred had honed her instincts into something sharper than steel.

She clenched her fists, her entire body burning as she forced her magic to compress further.

The mimic charged.

But this time—

She saw it.

Her pupils dilated, and her mind slowed everything down.

For the first time, she could follow its movements—

The flicker of its muscles.

The twist of its torso.

The subtle shift of its feet.

The attack came. A deathly fast strike aimed at her throat—

But she moved.

A single inch.

And the blade missed.

For the first time in forty-eight years, she dodged.

Austin's smile widened.

"Oh?"

The mimic relentlessly attacked, faster than before, adapting to her new speed—

But she adapted faster.

Ducking. Twisting. Avoiding each strike by a hair's breadth.

A flicker of realization dawned in her mind.

She was learning.

No—she had already learned.

Her training had not been for power. It had been for this.

A sharpened instinct. A warrior's awareness.

A killer's reflexes.

She launched herself forward.

The mimic moved to counter—but she had already calculated its move.

She adjusted.

She twisted.

And for the first time—

She struck.

Her fist slammed into the mimic's chest, cracking the shadowy form.

It staggered.

It was just for a second.

But it staggered.

Austin let out a low chuckle, clapping his hands.

"Not bad."

Sonya, panting, glared at him.

Her body screamed for rest, but her mind was clear.

She wasn't done.

She couldn't be done.

Not until she could kill him.

Not just his mimic.

Him.

Austin's blue eyes gleamed with amusement.

"Let's continue."

The mimic reformed.

And the battle began again.

For two more years, she fought.

Two more excruciating, agonizing years inside the void room.

Her muscles tore. Her bones shattered. Her mind splintered under the weight of endless deaths, only for Austin to bring her back again. Again. And again.

Her only goal?

To land a single scratch.

The mimic never stopped moving. It was relentless, faster than her, stronger than her, more skilled than her.

But Sonya was nothing if not obsessive.

Each time she died, she studied.

Each time she revived, she adjusted.

Each time she fought, she sharpened.

And then, after fifty full years in the void—two years beyond the original training time—

She did it.

A single, precise cut across the mimic's cheek.

A thin, almost imperceptible line of damage.

A scratch.

She had won.

Her legs finally gave out, and she collapsed onto the ground, her breath coming out in ragged gasps.

She had done it.

She had scarred him.

The moment the mimic vanished, Austin let out a deep, satisfied sigh before stepping forward and crouching beside her.

His piercing blue eyes gleamed as he studied her.

Then, with a slow clap, he smiled.

"God, that's enough. You're more powerful than eighty percent of the people in this world now. Congrats, Miss Sonya."

His voice was smooth, but she could hear the amusement.

And something else.

Satisfaction.

She had entertained him.

That thought infuriated her.

She wanted to punch him. But she was too exhausted to move.

Sonya turned her head slightly, glaring at him through her messy, sweat-drenched hair.

"Then fight me now," she rasped.

Austin tilted his head, grinning. "Tempting. But no."

She clenched her fists, anger burning in her exhausted body.

"Why? Afraid?"

Austin let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head.

"Oh, princess. You're strong now, but you're still not ready."

Sonya's jaw clenched.

Not ready?

Fifty years in this hell, and she was not ready?

Austin leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"You just fought my shadow," he said, his voice calm but firm. "At only sixty percent of my power. And you barely managed to scratch it. Do you really think you can win against me if we fight for real?"

Sonya clenched her fists, her body still trembling from exhaustion. She had spent fifty years in that void. Fifty years of dying, reviving, fighting, and dying again. She had clawed her way through a hell she never imagined existed, all just to prove herself.

And yet, he was still looking at her like she was a child who had just taken her first step.

Her breath was ragged, her limbs numb, but her pride refused to let her back down. "One day," she muttered under her breath. "One day, I will kill you."

Austin only smiled.

"We'll see."

With a snap of his fingers, the void around them shattered.

The eerie silence of the training dimension was replaced by the familiar atmosphere of reality. The scent of aged paper, the warmth of the golden lanterns, the faint sounds of the academy outside—their surroundings shifted in an instant.

They were back.

It had been only twenty-four hours in the real world.

But Sonya knew better.

She was not the same person who had entered that room yesterday.

Her muscles were the same, her body unchanged. But in her mind, she had lived for fifty years. She had fought, learned, adapted, and died more times than she could count.

She turned to Austin, watching as he adjusted his gloves with practiced ease.

Then, he spoke.

"Extend your arms."

Sonya frowned. "Why?"

He gave her a sharp look. "Just do it."

She hesitated for a moment, then slowly lifted her arms.

Austin stepped forward, reaching out. His hands were warm—not in the comforting way, but in a way that felt like fire restrained, a storm barely kept under control. He grasped her hands firmly, and before she could react, something shifted.

A sharp, piercing cry echoed through the room.

A shadow swept across the walls, followed by the sudden, chilling presence of something ancient.

Sonya gasped as a black raven materialized between their joined hands, its wings outstretched, its red eyes gleaming with an otherworldly glow.

She had seen many magical contracts before. This was not one of them.

This was something far more dangerous.

The raven let out another sharp caw before settling on her shoulder, its gaze locking onto hers.

She swallowed. "What… is this?"

Austin let go of her hands, his lips curling into a small smirk. "Proof."

She stared at him, confused. "Proof of what?"

He took a step back, his long coat billowing slightly as he turned away. "That I am now your sponsor. And you, my student."

Sonya's breath caught in her throat.

She had expected something like this. After all, she had asked for his help. But seeing it happen, feeling the weight of that raven on her shoulder—it was real now.

The power dynamics had shifted.

She was still a princess. Still a member of the imperial family. But now—

She was under Austin von Ravenclaw's wing.

She exhaled sharply, trying to push down the strange mix of emotions rising in her chest.

"So that's it?" she asked. "No blood contract? No magic oath?

Austin let out a soft chuckle as he crossed his arms. His piercing blue eyes gleamed with amusement as he said,

"Congratulations, Princess. I'm officially your sponsor now, and you…" he smirked, "are officially my student."

Sonya glanced at the raven still perched on her shoulder, its red eyes watching her like a silent observer of fate. Her fingers twitched slightly before she finally spoke.

"What happens if I betray you?" she asked, her voice steady.

Austin threw his head back and laughed. A genuine, deep laugh that sent a shiver down her spine. "Nothing."

She frowned. "Nothing?"

He nodded. "Nothing. This raven? It's just a marker. A symbol. It won't kill you, won't curse you, won't strip you of your powers or bind you to me." His smile widened. "It's not something you need to be so worried about."

She eyed him warily. "Then what's the point?"

Austin shrugged. "Because now, everyone who matters will know you belong under my protection."

Sonya exhaled, shaking her head. He had a way of making things sound both reassuring and terrifying at the same time.

Austin stretched his arms, rolling his shoulders before looking at her again. "You have twenty-five days left now."

She blinked. "Only twenty-five?"

"Oh, don't act so surprised." He chuckled. "You just learned fifty years' worth of combat, magic, and strategy inside the void. That's more than enough. Now, you have plenty of time to rest."

Sonya's entire body ached, the weight of five decades pressing on her bones, yet she still found herself narrowing her eyes at him. "Rest? You actually expect me to rest?"

Austin smirked. "It's either rest… or break. Your choice."

Sonya sighed, rubbing her temples. The realization of how much she had changed in such a short amount of real-world time was starting to sink in.

Still, she wasn't done yet.

Not by a long shot.

As Sonya left his office, Austin leaned back in his chair, his fingers lightly drumming against the wooden desk. His sharp blue eyes followed her retreating figure before flickering with a knowing glint.

"Sonya, you are meant to kill me in the future." He exhaled, a smirk curling at the edges of his lips. "But I've made sure you won't even think of that."

Just as he was about to close his eyes, a voice rang out behind him.

"Wow, you really taught her well."

Austin's smirk didn't fade as he turned his gaze toward the uninvited guest. A woman stood near the doorway, her arms crossed, her lips twisted into a teasing grin. She had long, sleek black hair, and her piercing emerald eyes gleamed with curiosity.

Austin sighed, tilting his head slightly. "Isn't it rude to enter a man's room like this, Miss Ana?"

Ana chuckled, stepping inside without a hint of hesitation. "And isn't it rude to twist a little princess into a warrior with nothing but sheer brutality?" She sauntered toward him, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor. "You didn't just train her… you broke her."

Austin merely raised an eyebrow. "Did I?"

Ana leaned against the edge of his desk, studying his face carefully. "You know exactly what you did. You turned her into something else—something stronger, sure—but also someone who now understands the weight of death firsthand." She crossed her legs. "So, tell me, Austin. What's the real plan here?"

Austin chuckled, shaking his head. "You always assume I have some grand plan."

"Because you always do," she countered smoothly. "Sonya is dangerous, but you didn't just prepare her for battle, did you? You prepared her for something bigger. You made sure she would survive… but survive against what?"

Austin didn't answer immediately. Instead, he reached for a silver dagger on his desk, twirling it between his fingers. His expression was unreadable.

"The Black Forest Festival is coming soon," he finally said, his voice slow, calculated. "That's when everything will change."

Ana narrowed her eyes. "And you expect Sonya to play a role in that change?"

Austin smirked, placing the dagger back down. "She already is."

Ana stared at him for a moment before laughing softly. "You really are a monster, Austin."

He simply smiled, his blue eyes gleaming in the dim candlelight. "And yet, you still find me fascinating, don't you?"

Ana rolled her eyes but didn't deny it. "Just don't let her become something even you can't control."

Austin exhaled, watching the door where Sonya had just walked through.

"Control?" he murmured. "No, Ana… I don't want to control her." His smile grew wider. "I just want to see how far she can go."

Austin glanced at the ornate wooden box Ana had placed on his desk. His fingers traced the delicate engravings along its surface before flipping it open. Inside lay a dark, metallic artifact, faintly pulsing with an ominous energy. His sharp blue eyes gleamed as he studied it.

"This is what you requested," Ana said, watching him with arms crossed. "It wasn't easy to get."

Austin smirked, reaching into his coat pocket. "I never expected it to be." He placed a crystalline fragment onto the table. Its surface shimmered with a deep, abyssal glow, shifting between dark purple and deep blue. "This is your payment."

Ana exhaled, taking the crystal carefully, as if it might burn her fingertips. "You know…" She glanced at him. "You're trading in far more dangerous things, Austin. I wish you wouldn't do these things."

Austin let out a soft chuckle, leaning back in his chair. "Wishing won't change anything, Ana." His fingers tapped against the artifact, feeling the raw energy seeping from it. "And you wouldn't be here if you truly wanted me to stop."

Ana clicked her tongue in frustration. "I knew you'd say that."

Austin's smirk didn't fade. "Then why bother trying?"

She leaned in slightly. "Because unlike you, I still have something resembling a conscience."

Austin shrugged, placing the lid back onto the box. "And that's why you'll never reach where I stand."

Ana lingered by the door, her fingers tightening around the abyssal crystal in her palm. Her usual sharp demeanor had softened, her emerald eyes flickering with something rare—genuine concern.

"Austin," she said, her voice quieter than before. "There are more people who worry about you than you think."

Austin didn't lift his gaze from the artifact. His fingers idly traced its surface, the swirling patterns of energy reacting faintly to his touch. He smirked, but it lacked his usual arrogance.

"Worrying won't get us anywhere, Ana," he replied, voice steady. "You know that as well as I do. The thing I'm scheming—" he gestured vaguely toward the relic, "—is far more dangerous than you realize. And if I just bow down to it, the world will become a place where people like you, like Sonya, like anyone who cares, won't even exist."

Ana sighed, stepping forward. She didn't like when he spoke like this, like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders alone. It was reckless. It was foolish. But most of all—it was so Austin.

"Aye," she murmured. "But don't push too hard. We're here. We can help."

Austin chuckled, finally glancing up at her. His piercing blue eyes held a flicker of amusement, but underneath that, there was something else—something tired.

"Help? You?" he teased. "The same Ana who told me she wanted nothing to do with my 'dangerous dealings'?"

Ana rolled her eyes but didn't back down. "Just because I don't agree with you doesn't mean I want to see you get yourself killed, dumbass."

He smirked. "Duly noted."

She hesitated before adding, "And Sonya, too. She's reckless, but she's not an idiot. She looks up to you in a way she won't admit. You push too hard, and one day, she might break trying to chase after your shadow."

Austin leaned back in his chair, exhaling. "She won't break," he said simply. "If she does, she was never meant to wield true power in the first place."

Ana's lips pressed into a thin line. "You're heartless."

"No," he corrected. "I'm realistic."

The room fell into a tense silence. The candlelight flickered, casting long shadows across the bookshelves and polished mahogany desk. Austin finally stood, walking over to the window, hands clasped behind his back.

"I don't do this because I want to," he admitted, his tone softer than before. "I do it because someone has to."

Ana's fingers twitched. She had heard these words before—from generals, from kings, from people who convinced themselves that bearing the burden alone was the only way forward. And every single one of them? They either ended up dead or worse—empty.

"And what happens when there's no one left to carry you, Austin?" she asked quietly.

Austin didn't answer right away. He stared out into the night, the city's dim lights glowing like scattered stars. Finally, he turned back, that unreadable smirk back in place.

"Then I'll have done my job right."

Ana hated that answer. But she knew better than to argue when he was like this.

She sighed, tucking the abyssal crystal into her coat. "Just… don't die, alright?"

Austin chuckled, stepping past her toward his desk. "No promises, Ana."

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she walked out. "Bastard," she muttered.

Austin watched the door shut behind her before sighing to himself. His fingers drummed against the artifact once more.

"More people worry about me than I think, huh?" he murmured to no one in particular. "What a pain."

Still, for a moment—a fleeting, quiet moment—his smirk faded, and something almost like warmth flickered in his eyes.