After the battle, Avince was still catching his breath, his chest rising and falling with each strained inhale. The bruises and scratches from the encounter began to sting in the cooling air. A sense of pride and exhaustion mingled in his gaze—a personal milestone, hard-won. He noticed Althiel observing him, the faintest hint of amusement curling on her lips.

“Passable,” she said at last, her tone light but her eyes sharp. “Though you made quite a few... mistakes. I can point them out if you’d like."

The thrill of victory faded as he sensed an incoming critique, but he nodded, his grin diminishing only slightly. “Go ahead."

She stepped closer, moving with a graceful purpose, her golden eyes unwavering. “First, you avoided being cornered, which was good. But there was a faster, more efficient approach you could’ve taken. Had you softened the ground where you expected the bear to charge, you could’ve trapped it with ease. Its size would have made getting back up nearly impossible."

Avince frowned, surprised. “I thought using the terrain to slow it down was enough."

“It did slow the bear,” Althiel replied, raising an eyebrow, “but it didn’t control it. By creating an obstacle instead of a trap, you prolonged the fight. Think of it as saving mana only to overspend later—you used more magic to dodge and reposition than if you’d committed to that one decisive move."

He absorbed this, realizing how much efficiency he’d overlooked. She continued, “You drained too much mana on temporary defenses and evading. You’re strong, but without efficiency, you’ll end up exhausted before you can even land a critical attack."

He looked down, feeling the weight of her critique. “I was trying to stay mobile."

Her gaze turned almost condescending. “Mobility is important, yes, but wasting mana on constant defenses leaves you vulnerable. You managed to land your fire lance, but luck played as much of a role as timing."

Avince rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. “So… I could’ve won quicker if I’d been smarter?”

“Precisely,” she replied, her tone dismissive. “Victory through brute strength alone will only carry you so far. Keep making these mistakes, and eventually, someone will exploit every single one."

Avince took a deep breath, her words settling in. All his training had honed his power, but now he could see how much there was to refine.

“What else?” he asked, both eager and nervous.

“Your magic,” she replied sharply. “You relied on familiar elements—water, earth, and wind—but didn’t push beyond the predictable. Using wind to disorient the bear was effective, but it wasn’t enough. Most creatures will adapt to repeated tricks. Imagine if you’d frozen its limbs or destabilized it with ice spikes. Patterns make you vulnerable."

Avince’s eyes widened at her insight. “So, I limited myself?”

“Precisely. Humans lack the raw strength of other species, but you do have adaptability. If you don’t use it, you’ll perish,” she warned, her tone grave. “Maybe not here, in this dungeon with only your consciousness at risk, but in the real world? That’s a different story."

Her words struck him. He’d focused so much on mastering his powers that he’d overlooked his vulnerability. This dungeon gave him a safety net—if he ‘died’ here, his consciousness would return to reality unharmed, thanks to the amulet. But in the real world, there would be no such assurance.

His thoughts lingered on her words. Althiel wasn’t merely offering advice; she was warning him.

As they stood there, the silence between them grew, punctuated only by the gentle lapping of the pond’s water against the shore. Avince felt a sense of trepidation, unsure of what to expect next.

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Althiel’s gaze never wavered. “Now, let’s address your physical state. You’re exhausted, and those bruises won’t heal themselves.” She gestured toward the pond. “Bathe in the water. It’s enchanted to restore mana and accelerate healing."

Avince hesitated, unsure about removing his clothes. But Althiel’s expectant gaze left little room for modesty.

“Do I really have to… remove everything?” he asked, a faint blush creeping up his neck.

Althiel raised an eyebrow, unyielding. “Afraid of a bit of water, are you? This pond’s effects work best with full exposure. Besides, I’d rather not have your clothes polluting it."

With a sigh, Avince muttered, “Fine, whatever.” He carefully removed his clothes, keeping himself covered until he set them on a nearby rock. Taking a steadying breath, he waded into the water.

The coolness was almost shocking, but as he moved deeper, it felt as though the water itself was reaching out, seeping through his skin, soothing his exhausted muscles. He let out a sigh, realizing how tense he’d been holding himself.

“You feel it, don’t you?” Althiel’s voice came, low and knowing. “This isn’t ordinary water. It’s enchanted to restore mana. Those with high attunement feel it instantly."

Avince nodded, his eyes half-closed as he absorbed the pond’s energy. It wasn’t just washing away fatigue; it was touching his mana channels, rekindling something vital within him.

After a pause, Althiel spoke again. “Tell me, why did you come here so unprepared? You wore no armor or equipment, except for that ring."

Startled, Avince opened his eyes. She looked calm, indifferent to his vulnerability. He hesitated, searching for an answer. “I… didn’t think I’d need them. I don’t use armor in academy sparring matches, and I’ve only used equipment a handful of times in dungeons with my father… that was ages ago.” He grimaced, feeling vulnerable. “I guess I just… didn’t think of it."

She sighed, crossing her arms. “A common mistake, but one easily rectified. You’re treading into dangerous territory, Avince. You’ll need equipment—discreet, tailored, allowing for movement without sacrificing protection.” Her golden eyes were serious. “It may save your life one day."

Avince nodded, mentally resolving to ask his parents for guidance. A long silence followed, broken only by the gentle ripple of the water.

Curiosity simmered as he glanced back at Althiel, finally voicing a question he’d held for a while.

“The soul…” he began, hesitant. “Is it really… a path to becoming stronger?”

The elf’s brow lifted slightly in surprise, her gaze penetrating as though she could see straight through him.

The elf’s brow lifted slightly in surprise, her gaze penetrating as though she could see straight through him. “You surprise me, young one,” she said softly. “The soul, as you call it, is indeed powerful… but not in the way most would imagine.” She looked out over the water, almost as if remembering something distant. “It holds immense potential, but it’s also fragile. Direct damage often leads to lasting consequences.”

Avince listened intently, captivated as her words unfolded.

“Few methods exist to temper the soul properly. Most damage causes a lingering effect—a kind of corrosion. Even when it heals, it weakens the soul, like a wound that never fully vanishes,” she said, her voice softening yet heavy with warning. “That’s why most who wish to grow their souls seek it through other means, letting experiences shape it over time.”

“Like… battles?” Avince asked.

She nodded. “Yes. Battles, struggles, moments that test the very core of your being—they can nourish and fortify the soul. Life-or-death encounters are particularly... potent in this way.” She tilted her head, an almost mischievous gleam in her eyes. “But I doubt that’s what you wanted to hear, is it?”

Avince’s silence said enough, and she offered a faint smile.

“If, for instance, you had a way of injuring the soul without this corrosion, it could be a direct path to unimaginable strength,” she added, her tone now almost teasing. “A surefire way to the peak, as it were.”

He said nothing, his gaze shifting to the water’s surface as if it could hide the thoughts swirling in his mind. But his silence spoke louder than words, and Althiel, sharp as ever, caught on.

“Ah…” Her voice held a knowing tone, a soft note of surprise but not shock. “Your ability… it allows you to do this, doesn’t it?” She didn’t phrase it as a question but as a truth, undeniable and clear.

Before Avince could respond, she continued, “Let me guess: when your consciousness dies in a dungeon, it damages your soul, which your body and mana then heals.”

Avince’s heart skipped a beat, a flush rising to his face. For a moment, he thought of denying it, but somehow he knew it would be futile. Finally, he nodded, confirming the truth without a word.