My vision twisted, disoriented once more as my entire being was yanked out of Diana’s body and slammed back into my own. A rush of familiarity flooded my senses—the weight of my tail, the solid grip of my hands, the sheer rightness of movement. It was like escaping a runaway carriage piloted by a madman and returning to the safety of my own control.

  I exhaled, flexing my fingers as my vision cleared. Relief warred with frustration. The past days—or however long it had been—had been spent grinding through the mastery of Phantom Arsenal. I had suffered through learning its nuances, pushing myself to feel what I could not see, weaving unseen blades into the air like a second nature.

  And now? Now, after all that? I pulled up my status screen, eager to see the fruits of my labor.

  Nothing.

  Phantom Arsenal was nowhere to be found. No new skill. No confirmation of my progress. Nothing.

  I blinked. Then scrolled. Then scrolled again. Nothing.

  My breath hitched in my throat as realization sank in. "What the hell—"

  A spike of anger burned through me. I had mastered the skill! I had lived in it! I had felt every placement, memorized every weapon’s position, learned to launch them like second nature—and the system just… forgot? I felt cheated. Robbed.

  A frustrated growl rumbled in my throat as I snapped my head toward Ssythara. "Where is it?" The words came out sharper than I intended. "Where’s the damn skill? We mastered them, didn’t we?"

  I half-expected a dismissive hiss or some vague cryptic lesson about patience. What I didn’t expect—what made me freeze mid-rant—was Ssythara’s smile.

  Not a smirk. Not amusement at my frustration. A real, pleased, genuinely proud smile.

  "I ssssee you are angry," she said, her tone laced with satisfaction. "But do not be afraid. All of your hard work paid off. For both of you."

  I barely heard her. My mind was still stuck on paid off. How did it pay off if the skill wasn’t there?

  Then she turned to Diana, her golden eyes gleaming with something almost akin to respect. "You essspecially did well. With your misssunderstanding of emotion, being able to grassssp the feeling behind Crimson Reconstitution is outssstanding."

  Diana didn't react, not in any way most would recognize. But I saw the slight shift of her weight, the almost imperceptible tilt of her head—the way she processed those words in the same calculated way she processed combat. She wasn’t expecting praise.

  But I sure as hell still wanted answers. "Then where’s the skill?" I shot back, trying to rein in my impatience but failing miserably. "If we succeeded, why isn’t it in my status screen?"

  I hadn’t expected a gift, but I had expected something. If all that effort led to nothing, I was going to lose it.

  "Relax, young one," Ssythara’s voice slithered through the air, calm and knowing. "You have earned the ssskill."

  Her golden eyes gleamed as she watched my tension coil, my anger still simmering beneath the surface. "We were in a time distortion chamber. You jusst ssspent three daysss inside it, while only an hour hasss passssed here. Your body now needsss time to catch up to what your mind already knowsss."

  I exhaled sharply, the frustration cooling into something closer to understanding. That made sense.

  Still, I wasn’t sure why I had been so angry. It had flared up too fast—an unnatural frustration, like my patience had been skinned raw. That wasn’t like me.

  I shifted my focus inward, scanning my body’s state. And that’s when I felt it. My torment was above the Oathshackle limit.

  A flicker of surprise cut through my thoughts. That shouldn’t have been possible. The ring around in my palm, Alyssa’s failsafe against my will being taken over, hadn't activated.

  This body—the one Diana had used—had suffered. Not from wounds. Not from battle. But from the relentless, grinding repetition of training beyond limits. Of the mind. It wasn’t me pushing it, but the body had still been tortured, just in a different way.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  And the ring? The ring hadn’t recognized it. A loophole. A dangerous one. One that maybe I could exploit.

  I clenched my fists, the aftereffects of strain settling into my muscles now that I was paying attention. My body still felt slightly out of sync, like my nerves weren’t entirely sure if they should be sore or not.

  Ssythara had said three days. Three days inside that white void, lost to time, training, fighting, adapting. And I hadn’t even realized it. The chamber had stolen my awareness of hunger, exhaustion—of everything outside the singular goal of mastery.

  My body had only been here for an hour. That explained why we hadn’t needed to eat or sleep inside. I exhaled again, slower this time, centering myself. The anger faded completely now that I understood. The skill was mine—I had earned it. My body just had to catch up.

  I looked at Diana. She was perfectly composed, of course. As if the last three days hadn’t happened, or as if she simply didn’t care. But I had seen the way she had struggled. The way she had bled, hesitated, adapted.

  She was capable of feeling.

  I grinned at the both of them and then opened a portal back to my room. I needed to sleep.

  I awoke to my ring electrocuting me. Not hard, but enough to shock my body into getting up. I looked down and saw that my ring was pulsing with a yellow light. Not knowing what was happening I shook my hand in a flapping motion. Then I felt the shock again, but this time I also saw the ring pulse in the direction of my door. Someone must be knocking. Interesting door alarm I mused.

  Pushing myself off the bed, I flicked my tail once to shake off the last of my grogginess before striding toward the door. My muscles still felt stiff, my limbs heavier than usual—but nothing I couldn’t push through.

  I cracked the door open.

  Alyssa stood on the other side, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised. “Well?” she drawled. “Are you gonna let me in, or are you just gonna stand there looking confused?”

  I blinked, still half-processing. “Uh. Yeah. Come in.”

  Alyssa let out a dramatic groan, stretching out across my bed like she’d earned a full night’s rest. “I swear, I forgot how exhausting this job is. Teaching’s a damn workout, and the worst part? You don’t even get a level-up for it.” She sighed heavily, but the grin tugging at her lips gave her away. “I’ve been running drills all morning, sparring with brats who think swinging a sword hard enough makes them a fighter. My knuckles are sore, my patience is thinner than a demon’s goodwill, and my legs feel like I sprinted up a mountain.” She propped herself up on her elbows, eyes glinting with amusement. “It’s great.”

  I snorted, closing the door behind her. “You love this.”

  “Damn right I do,” she admitted without hesitation, rolling onto her side to smirk at me. “It’s like watching someone fumble around in the dark and finally, finally find the light switch. Watching them get better? Seeing that moment when something clicks? I live for it.”

  She reached for my pillow, tossed it lazily in the air, and caught it again. “And speaking of things clicking, a rumor’s been making the rounds.” Her smirk widened. “Apparently, you’re my apprentice now.”

  I blinked. “What?”

  “Oh yeah.” She sat up, stretching. “Word spread fast that we showed up together, then people saw me training you and now they think I’m your master.” She made a dramatic gesture, waggling her fingers like she was casting a spell. “Also I may or may not have started those rumors.” She couldnt help but give me the largest smile I have ever seen from her. “Alyssa, the grand mentor of the painborn upstart.” She laughed. “And guess what that means? Now everyone who thinks they’re hot shit wants a piece of you. People have been swarming me all day, demanding I ‘assign’ them a fight with my so-called disciple.”

  I leaned against my dresser, deep in thought. She basically made sure the entire school knew I was under her care. That meant that I had some protection that other students would not. With her backing It meant that people could not jump me or pressure me into things that I did not want to do.

  Alyssa tapped a finger against her knee, watching me with sharp amusement. “So. You want me to start picking your fights for you? I’ll do it for a measly 25% of your profits.”

  I hesitated for half a second before realizing—this was perfect. The ambushes would get annoying. If I had scheduled fights, I wouldn’t have to deal with idiots knocking my food tray out of my hands just to get my attention. If they thought Alyssa could assign fights for me… then why not let her?

  A slow grin spread across my face. “Yeah. Actually, that sounds like a great idea.”

  Alyssa raised a brow. “Oh? The demon approves?”

  I folded my arms. “But let’s set some conditions.”

  Her smirk sharpened. “I’m listening.”

  “First off, there needs to be a cost. At least 500 points per match.”

  She let out a low whistle. “Steep. Most fights hover around 100-200. You’re aiming high.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t want weaklings wasting my time. They have to be invested in the fight, or it’s just another distraction. If they’re willing to put down 500 points, they’ll take it seriously.”

  Alyssa nodded, tapping her fingers against her knee. “Alright, that’s reasonable. What else?”

  “Level restrictions still apply. No ridiculous gaps.”

  “Of course. No one wants to watch a level 40 beat the shit out of a level 10—it’s boring. I’d restrict it to a five-level gap max.”

  I nodded. “Good. And weapons, skills, and maiming are all allowed.”

  That got a real reaction out of her. Alyssa let out a bark of laughter, tossing the pillow at me. “Maiming?! I like how you just slid that one in casually.”

  I caught the pillow and shrugged. “What? It’s not a fight if you’re holding back.”

  She grinned, shaking her head. “You’re going to make me rich with this. People are dying for brutal fights, and this? This is exactly the kind of thing that gets attention.”

  I tilted my head. “You sure you want to deal with this? You’re basically volunteering to be my fight manager.”

  Alyssa leaned back, looking entirely too smug. “Oh, I absolutely want to deal with this. Think about it. You get fights on your terms, I get control over who you fight, and we both make a killing in points. Win-win.”

  I smirked. “Alright then. But you only get 20%, I am the one risking my neck.” I held my hand out for her to shake “You’re officially in charge of my fights.”

  She clasped her hand with mine “Perfect. I’ll set things up. You just focus on winning.”

  I stretched, already feeling anticipation coiling in my chest. A proper fight schedule. Fewer interruptions. Higher stakes.

  This was going to be fun.