It had been a few days since Tanya had come to understand why Luna never ventured outside during the day. Agoraphobia was the most likely conclusion she could draw—a disorder that urged people to avoid open spaces where they might feel trapped or unsafe. Her knowledge of it was limited, but she knew it could arise naturally or as a response to trauma. People who endured horrid experiences often hid themselves away to avoid reliving the feeling of helplessness. Considering Luna's visceral reaction to the name Hathor, something significant must have happened, though Tanya could only guess at what. Of course she could make up theories but that was all. Some of them were startlingly negative.

The thought of questioning others about any crimes Hathor might have committed made her pause. She was still a newborn in this world, with limited social standing, and while she had her own reasons to dislike him, Tarak's recent altercation with Hathor's son had only fueled tensions. They were already on thin ice and them saving the village made them barely get back in Wolvenblade's good graces. Any investigation on her part might look as though she were actively scheming against the elder. Which she was sure would not be received well at all. Now that being said of course, one could argue she would be scheming, but that was beside the point. He was deeply rooted in the village, a tree she had no means of toppling—at least, not without considerable risk.

Still, Tanya wanted to get more information, preferably from Hati. She felt a strong sense of trust toward the woman—though she wondered if that could be her body talking again. No it was definitely her body talking without a doubt. However, Hati had been conspicuously absent as of late. Word around the village was that she did, in fact, have a formal position, leading a troop of soldiers, and had recently been called away for an extended multiple meetings to talk about her excursion to the the forest she had recently come back from. And she heard something about "resin" regarding these meetings. Tanya could easily imagine Hati now, banging her head against some rough desk, cursing meetings and paperwork. Not that Tanya was a stranger to bureaucracy; her past life had introduced her to it, though she'd always preferred it over meaningless warfare.

With Hati busy, Tanya had tried to spot Luna by sneaking out at night, hoping she might emerge under the cover of darkness. Ultimately, it seemed a wasted effort; Luna remained as elusive as her namesake. Something in Tanya told her that she'd need patience if she wanted answers from the girl herself. It wasn't surprising given the girls visceral reaction a few days prior. It was only natural she wasn't ready yet.

"Urrgh, Surya." Tarak's groan broke her thoughts, and she smiled down at him.

Her brother had grown remarkably in a few days. He was already speaking, albeit not habitually. His face was usually expressionless—apart from when he spoke to her—and his voice held a slight drawl, as though he were perpetually tired. She brushed his hair away from his face, his ruby-red eyes blinking in the colorful seven-colored light filtering through the window. He liked to rest his head on her lap, as he was doing now. She supposed it was because he was still young, though, truthfully, she didn't mind. Her skin was tough enough that his horns didn't bother her at all. But they couldn't stay idle; today was their first day attending the village academy.

It wasn't required, given their unique situation, and Tanya honestly hadn't intended to go back to "school" in any fashion. She figured she could absorb knowledge simply by observing or by sifting through the village records on her own. But today's lesson on the local flora and fauna piqued her interest. Judging by the battered state of the soldiers who'd returned yesterday, she felt she needed a survival guide for this place. And she would finally be leaving the village for the first time since her birth—if one didn't count that little skirmish against the Vampyrs just outside the walls.

Now that Tarak could speak, Midea had mentioned he would start their physical training soon. The imp had seemed genuinely intrigued, hinting at a few martial arts techniques he planned to teach them. Curious, she looked forward to whatever methods he had in store. While she was more accustomed to teaching than being taught, she reminded herself that this was a new world and that she was technically a new person. There was no need to feel embarrassed about receiving instruction, regardless of her mental age. Though Midea himself grated on her she would absorb the knowledge well.

"C'mon, Tarak, we gotta go, alright? We have that school thing to attend," she said gently.

At this, Tarak perked up, his excitement evident. She'd noticed that he'd wandered off with her one night recently, seemingly searching for someone. Though he hadn't said anything, she could guess it was probably Sol, Luna's sister. After all she was the only other person who would go over to that area. It was likely she had been looking for her sister but ran into Tarak. Tanya hadn't spoken to the girl yet, though her curiosity was piqued. Perhaps she knew something about Luna's situation? She would have to see but now was not the time. She could figure out that mystery later.

Rising, she put on a dark blouse, while Tarak donned a simple black shirt and trousers. Just as they were about to head out, Midea appeared, leaning against the doorframe in his usual fashion, a smirk stretching across his face. Shadows wreathed his form, flickering with occasional licks of flame. The man truly was the definition of needless opulence.

"Make sure you're back soon. I've looked into some interesting things in this world that we could use for your training. Today, we'll start with some physical exercises. I'll push you to see where you stand. Martial techniques can come a bit later."

Tanya nodded, but Midea seemed to relish the opportunity to continue.

"And remember, you promised to do whatever I said in regards to your training today. You swore because you wanted to get stronger," he said, his smirk widening.

"Yes, I am aware. No need to remind me as you have several times since yesterday," she replied, with a touch of annoyance.

She disliked his phrasing, not to mention the gleam in his eye, but she understood the necessity of training. Tarak just looked at him, likely weighing his opinion of the imp. While Midea had been around since their birth, Tanya could sense her brother's wariness. She trusted Midea, even if she didn't fully like him, but Tarak would come to his own conclusions. She had no desire to dictate who he did or didn't associate with—unless it was dangerous, of course.

As they walked to the academy, a throng of wolf-children gawked at them with wide eyes and hushed murmurs. Tanya caught whispers like "sun goddess Surya" and "legendary monster Tarak," most of it seeming to be in good spirits. She looked up at the building as they approached; unlike the other structures, naturally painted in blue-green hues due to the color of wood in this world, the academy was painted red and white in places, bearing the symbol of a wolf's head, just like the village gate. A smaller wolf head, likely representing the younger generation, hung beside it. She could infer from her knowledge about the culture that the head was probably Fenrir or something of the sort.

"Why do they keep pointing at us?" Tarak asked, genuinely curious.

"Hmm, because we're strong. They are admiring us Tarak. It's a good thing, especially given our former situation," she explained.

"Admire?" he repeated, trying the word.

"Yes. It means they look up to you or even like you a lot."

He thought for a moment. "I think I admire you, Sis."

This cute brat. Tanya gave him a warm smile despite herself.

"Yes, so think of that and don't attack anyone, alright? They're not a threat," she reminded him, hoping he wouldn't lash out today.

He nodded eagerly, which made her smile again. She was glad that he wasn't as wild as he seemed when he was first born. They entered the academy, where the air was filled with children's laughter and the playful sounds of sparring swords clinking and feet scuffling in the sand. It was a serene scene, one she wouldn't have minded seeing more often in her past life. She wasn't overly fond of children, but there was something to be said for such peaceful innocence. It was much superior when compared to the screams of soldiers and horrors of war.

As they ascended the winding staircase, Tarak trailing just behind her, she felt a gentle poke at her wing. Turning, she saw a small boy, his face streaked with snot, gazing up at her with amazement as he lightly poked her feathers.

"This is so cool! Can you fly, like for real for real? I heard only third layers can fly for real," he said, his voice brimming with excitement.

Tarak moved to grab the boy's hand, but thankfully, he didn't harm him. The boy looked startled, then quickly withdrew. Honestly, she was grateful; the thought of snot in her feathers was nightmarish.

At last, they reached the classroom, finding children chatting and playing around while they waited for class to begin. The setup was strangely familiar—rows of desks, a podium at the front, and even a green board, just like the classrooms she'd known on Earth. That was rather eerie, that things were so similar. A portly, elderly woman stood at the front, her kind eyes wrinkled with age. Upon seeing Tanya and Tarak, her face lit up.

"Oh, hello! Surya and Tarak, is it? Welcome to class!" she said, her voice sweet and inviting. Then, to Tanya's surprise, she turned to the children and barked, her voice loud and commanding as a battle horn, "EVERYONE SHUT UP AND SAY HELLO TO THE VILLAGE HEROES!"

The children snapped to attention with startling speed, chanting, "HELLO!" in perfect unison. From the corner of her eye, Tanya saw Tarak flinch from the noise. She sympathized.

"Alright, now you two can take a seat in the front, right next to each other," the teacher said, her voice now back to its gentle tone.

Tanya decided to comply; the last thing she wanted was to risk her eardrums with another unexpected shout. Actually, she wondered if she even had eardrums in this body. Given the other distinctly human parts she must have them no? With Tarak beside her, she took a seat, preparing herself for what she hoped would be an informative—if slightly surreal—experience.

"Alright, let's get started, kids!" The teacher clapped her hands, signaling the beginning of class.

___________________________________________

"All of you know me, but for our two new students, I'll introduce myself," Ms. Linda began, nodding warmly at Tanya and Tarak. Her voice softened, then abruptly took on a sharper edge, as though she were issuing orders on a battlefield. "My name is Ms. Linda, and today, we'll be covering the dangers outside the village walls. I know many of you dream of becoming soldiers and venturing out. That makes today's lesson even more important."

A ripple of excitement passed through the room as some of the younger boys exchanged looks, their imaginations clearly alight with visions of adventure beyond the walls. Tanya couldn't help but smirk; there was an almost palpable energy of youthful ambition in the room. She'd seen soldiers' dreams dashed often enough in her past life to feel a mixture of cynicism and amusement at the sight.

"Yeah!" shouted a few boys, pumping their fists and grinning as if they were already holding swords and shields.

But Ms. Linda's voice thundered through the air, dispelling the playful atmosphere. "SILENCE!"

The sharp command echoed around the room, bouncing off the walls as the children immediately went quiet, eyes wide, their posture straightening in sync. Even Tanya, who was only partly invested in the lesson, felt the urge to sit up a bit straighter.

"Thank you," Ms. Linda replied, her voice dropping back to its usual kind tone. Tanya tilted her head slightly, watching the woman with newfound appreciation. She wielded authority like a weapon and seemed well-practiced in using it. Ms. Linda looked back to the class, holding up a drawn image of a swamp, filled with misshapen, melting creatures whose form was more tumor than flesh.

"This," Ms. Linda said with quiet gravity, "is what we call the viral swamp. Creatures from here don't tend to wander far, but they are horrid, festering things. If they touch you or hit you, you have to cut off the affected flesh immediately and cauterize the wound. If not, you're as good as dead." Her gaze lingered over the children, waiting for the warning to settle in.

The class erupted into a collective "Eww!"—a sound that rang through the room with a mixture of revulsion and fascination. Tanya fought the urge to shudder; even in her previous life, she hadn't encountered anything as viscerally grotesque as a "fetid swamp." It felt like the setting of some twisted sci-fi horror manga she might have read as a kid, a place where the rules of nature seemed to warp and turn against you. This world was beginning to feel even stranger, and it hadn't felt exactly welcoming to begin with.

"The fetid swamp is overrun with countless diseases, all intertwined, that only seem to grow stronger with time," Ms. Linda continued, her voice a shade darker. "We have no cure for them." The words hung ominously in the air, sinking into the silence that followed.

Ms. Linda flipped to another image: a patch of grass, innocuous enough at first glance, but marked with a sinister-looking face drawn in by the teacher's own hand to emphasize the danger.

"This is leech grass. Unlike normal grass, it has one purpose: to paralyze you while you sleep, and slowly drain every drop of blood from your body until you're left nothing but an empty husk. That's why," she continued, emphasizing her words with a tap of her pointer against the drawing, "you must never, ever sleep on bare ground without checking it first."

Tanya could almost feel her brother's curiosity intensify beside her. She could imagine his thoughts, wondering how one would even check for something as subtle as grass that could drain you dry. The fantastical horror of these dangers was beginning to shift in her mind, taking on the chilling weight of reality.

Ms. Linda's lips thinned into a hard line. "Now, for the shadows in the wild—the shades. Some of you call them 'Shades of the Wild,' or the 'Ghosts of the wild' which isn't too far off. They're beings made of shadows, and they can possess your body if you're not careful. Light repels them, but without specific techniques, most people below the third layer can't truly damage them. Shades are where we get shadow cores from. They are used to protect the village as you all know drawing from the shades innate stealth and spectral physique," she explained, her tone softening slightly as she glanced at Tanya and Tarak, their expressions a mix of horror and fascination. Tanya was truly disturbed at the idea of ghosts being part of the wildlife. But it was also rather interesting.

Shadow cores, Tanya thought, noting Ms. Linda's explanation. So the cores were essential to protecting the village, creating some kind of illusion or cloak that kept them hidden from the worst of the wild's horrors. It made sense that the villagers would be in constant need of these if excursions were to be even remotely safe.

Moving on, Ms. Linda displayed another illustration: a large, bowl-shaped mushroom, filled with a viscous, bubbling liquid. The image alone was enough to make the children recoil slightly.

"Entecal," she announced, her voice barely above a whisper. "A giant fungus filled with acid. The Entecal emit a pheromone so strong, it makes the acid smell like the most delicious thing you could ever imagine. Creatures lured in by the scent are dissolved almost instantly, their remains adding to the acid." She paused for effect, her eyes sweeping over the wide-eyed class. "We've lost a number of good villagers to these things. Stay far away from anything that smells too sweet."

Tanya exchanged a look with Tarak, his normally stoic face displaying a flicker of unease. The concept of something so harmlessly inviting, yet deadly, didn't sit well with her either. What kind of world was this, where even the flora seemed to lure you in like an unsuspecting prey? She was worried about him. Sometimes her brother could be a slave to his instincts.

Ms. Linda continued, flipping to another picture. This time, it depicted a snake-vine hybrid, its green body covered in sharp, deadly-looking spines.

"These are snavines," she said, her voice turning grave. "They look like an odd mix between a snake and a vine, but those spines on their body? They're composed of an incredibly dense biomaterial, hardened to pierce even second-layer defenses as if they were made of paper. They're dangerous, incredibly so." Her eyes darkened as if remembering something, perhaps a victim of these creatures.

At this, Tanya found herself leaning forward. So even the plant life here had enough defenses to pierce what was considered advanced protection. And they weren't even close to that level yet. Well at least not in terms of actual cultivation. The idea of encountering one of these snavines in the open, much less fighting one, made her stomach twist with unease. She wondered if those spines could pierce her wings.

Ms. Linda took a breath, her next words slower, as if delivering a particularly dark warning. "Then there are the hive plants—also known as 'screen plants.' Walk through their screen, and they'll create a plant copy of you, one that can drain your cultivation energy to enhance itself. It's weaker than you are, but persistent, and if it catches you, it'll plant a hive seed in you that spreads through your body until you're just another part of its hive. The hive plants have many soldiers and if they want you dead can send a group of plant lifeforms to end you."

A whisper of horror escaped from one of the girls in the back, and Tanya felt her fingers clench involuntarily. A hive mind that could clone its victims? It was like something straight out of a twisted nightmare. It was absurd this was a true blue deathworld. She glanced down at her lap, where her hands were tapping at her knees without end. She thought about the soldiers she'd seen returning battered and bruised, and the grim reality of what they must face each time they ventured outside. She shook her head, this might be harder than she would have thought.

"Then there are the chrono-spores," Ms. Linda said, almost under her breath, as though afraid the words might manifest the creatures themselves. "They're rare, but their effect is nothing short of horrific. They attach to your body and accelerate your aging, drawing out every bit of your life force within three days. We've had incidents, tragic ones, where people went from young to frail and dying in just a matter of hours."

The class sat in stunned silence, the enormity of the dangers outside sinking into them as Ms. Linda shifted to another image. This time, it was of an odd grove of trees, connected by beams of light in a network, like lasers crisscrossing through the forest.

"These trees make up what's called the laser grove," she said, her tone softening as though she were speaking of something almost beautiful. "The trees absorb sunlight and communicate by shooting these concentrated beams of heat between each other. If you wander into one of these groves, the beams can turn you into ash in seconds. Many have lost their lives not knowing what they were walking into."

Next, she showed them an image of a segmented leech, each ringed section alive with a grotesque vitality. "And then there are the ring infestors. They look like ordinary leeches, but every ring on their body is actually a separate creature. When they get inside your body, each ring can separate and turn into a new infestor, feeding on you until there's nothing left but more leeches. They just separate and separate agin. It's a horrid fate."

Tanya felt a chill crawl down her spine. A creature that could turn its host into a living hive of parasites? The twisted horrors of this world were unlike anything she'd known. It wasn't enough that she had to face monsters and hostile beasts; even the simplest leech could be a death sentence.

And then Ms. Linda spoke of the iron winds and gravity spots, environmental hazards that could tear a person to shreds or crush them into the ground. "These iron winds can reduce an unguarded cultivator to ribbons. And gravity spots—they're places where the numen shifts, creating pockets of intense gravity. If you're not quick enough to sense the change, you'll be flattened in seconds."

"And of course we all know about the meteor storms. Oh actually Resin day is tomorrow. But meteors come down and create immense flame storms and many times flame spirits who come down to attack the everything in their surroundings they are extremely dangerous." She said with with a scary face.

Tanya felt as though she'd been thrown into some surreal, twisted version of her old world. The air around her grew heavy as the weight of these revelations bore down on her. This place was a crucible, a brutal test of survival and adaptability.

She felt a slight tug at her arm and glanced down to see Tarak wiggling uncomfortably in his seat, his hand raised hesitantly.

"I have to use the restroom, Big Sis," he whispered, sounding small in the face of the grim tales they'd just heard.

"Go ahead," she murmured, patting him on the shoulder as he shuffled out. Ms. Linda, to Tanya's relief, allowed him to leave without her usual bellow, likely out of respect for their recent status as village heroes.

As she continued to listen, Ms. Linda's words were a harsh reminder that survival here demanded strength beyond anything Tanya had known. She even talked about the Goblins and the Gu being threats due to relations. In fact there was apparently some sort of war with the Gu in the past. The villagers' extreme resilience made more sense now. This world was no place for the weak, and though she felt a flicker of hesitation, she knew that staying behind these walls forever was never an option.

She sighed, casting one last glance around the room, thinking of everything they'd just learned, her mind already churning with strategies. She had to figure out a long term way to survive in this world. The lesson had ended but even so she didn't see her brother. Where was Tarak, she wondered, hoping he hadn't wandered too far.

_______________________

Sol stood alone in the training ground behind the school, her fists clenched around the worn handle of a wooden sword. The world seemed narrower back here, enclosed by the shadow of tall trees and the dense, humid air that pressed in on her like an unrelenting force. Her breathing came in steady, controlled breaths, but her eyes held a fierce, unyielding determination. She wasn't just any ordinary girl in the village—she was Sol, a fourth shackle cultivator at only ten years old. It was a rank many her age couldn't even dream of, but in her mind, it still wasn't enough.

She had peers, of course, and rivals too. But none of them held a candle to her cousin Peter. She hadn't spoken to him since the accident that tore his life apart and left a bitter rift between them. She clenched her jaw, the memory biting at her like a shard of ice lodged deep within her heart. Peter had once been a friend, a teacher even, helping her with cultivation and techniques with an ease that only deepened her resentment now. But those days were gone. Even if he were the same as before, she wouldn't accept his help, not after everything. Not with her mother.

Determination burned in her gaze as she shifted her focus back to the task at hand. Earlier in class, their combat teacher had demonstrated a technique to channel numen through a blade and release a shockwave powerful enough to shatter an object twenty feet away. It wasn't flashy; it wasn't even complicated. But it was a skill that demanded precision, control, and, above all, discipline. Each time she failed to master it, the feeling of inadequacy simmered hotter beneath her skin. It was supposed to take weeks to master, but how could she be satisfied with that for such a simple skill.

The sun dipped lower, casting shadows that elongated the apple she had set up as her target. The once-fresh apple was now riddled with bruises and dents from her repeated attempts, its skin marred from near-misses that only served to taunt her. She glanced at her hands—skin raw, knuckles bleeding, her grip slipping with the smear of her own blood against the handle. Her fingers trembled slightly, but she barely noticed; all she could focus on was the need to succeed, to prove she was stronger than her doubts, stronger than anyone else thought possible. Stronger than that woman thought she was.

With a sharp inhale, she tightened her grip on the wooden sword, the pain only fueling her resolve. She pulled in her numen, forcing it into the sword with reckless intensity. Her focus was unwavering as she raised her arms and swung, directing everything she had at the apple. But just as the wave of energy surged through her, it backfired—a vicious recoil that shot through her arms, throwing her backward with a force that made her gasp. She hit the ground hard, her vision blurred momentarily by the impact.

"Damn it!" she spat, slamming her fist against the dirt. Tears pricked at her eyes, hot and unwanted, but she couldn't stop them. The frustration, the helplessness—it was all bubbling to the surface, her earlier composure crumbling with every agonizing second. "Why can't I do it?! Why can't I do anything?" Her voice wavered, and she choked out the words, her pride barely holding together as she buried her face in her hands.

A loud crack shattered the silence, and she looked up, startled, to see the apple—now completely obliterated, fragments scattered across the ground in a fine mist of juice and pulp. Her gaze darted to the side, and she froze. There stood Tarak, his arm extended, his small fist still raised from the blow he had just dealt to her target. His expression was calm, unbothered, as if he hadn't just shown up and done with a single punch what she had been struggling to do all afternoon.

Something inside her snapped.

"Why did you do that?!" she yelled, her voice breaking as her emotions surged up, spilling over like a dam giving way. "I didn't need your help, you stupid pipla-killing asshole!" The words tumbled out, fierce and raw. She knew he wasn't to blame, that he hadn't meant to show her up or make her feel small. But the fury, the frustration—all of it was too much to hold back. Her chest heaved as the words continued to pour out, unchecked. "We aren't all monsters from birth, you know! Some of us actually have to work for this! I could do it myself… I could…"

The strength in her voice faded with the last words, and her shoulders slumped as the anger drained from her, leaving only the exhaustion and a deep, aching sadness she couldn't quite shake. She wiped a stray tear from her cheek, feeling ashamed of the outburst, of the weakness she'd just shown. But when she looked up, Tarak hadn't moved. He was watching her with the same calm expression, his crimson eyes steady, almost gentle. Though there was confusion in them as well.

Without a word, he approached her, bending down until his face was level with hers. She noticed, for the first time, how delicate his features were—his long, dark lashes, his striking red eyes, the perfectly sculpted lines of his face. He looked almost like a doll, something too perfect, too unnatural to belong here in the dirt beside her. Yet there he was, his expression unreadable as he reached out and gently took her hands.

"You said caretakers don't hurt things unnecessarily," he said quietly, his voice soft, with a strange, almost thoughtful drawl to it. "So why are you hurting your own body?"

His words struck her with an unexpected weight, like a sudden gust of wind that left her momentarily off-balance. A faint, hollow laugh escaped her lips as she looked down at her bruised, bloody hands, the sting of her own self-inflicted pain settling in anew. "I'm just training," she said, though her voice sounded small even to her own ears. "I'm not hurting myself, I…" Her words trailed off, and she felt a strange, unwelcome warmth rise in her chest.

"You are hurting yourself," Tarak interrupted, his gaze unwavering as he pressed his hand to his chest. "Not just here," he gestured toward her hands, then pointed at his own heart, "but here too. I can feel it when I look at you, so you must feel it, too."

She stared at him, her heart pounding in her chest, caught off guard by his words. Did he really understand? She didn't know whether to feel anger or comfort at the idea that he could sense the turmoil she'd been struggling so hard to keep buried. She wasn't used to feeling this seen, this exposed. And yet… something in his words made her feel a sliver of relief, a fleeting sense of connection.

"I… I don't know," she whispered, the frustration in her voice softened now, almost gone. Her gaze dropped to the ground as she wrestled with her own confusion. She had spent so long trying to carry her burdens alone, to push everyone away, to prove that she didn't need anyone. But now, hearing his words, she wondered if maybe… maybe there was a different way.

Tarak tilted his head, his expression thoughtful as he considered her words. "I haven't been here very long, but I know what I like," he said, his voice quiet but certain. "I like eating. I like sleeping. I think I like fighting. And I like being alive. But the thing I like most—the person I like most—is my sister." He paused, his gaze steady on hers, as if willing her to understand. "I like being with her more than anything. So, I don't think doing things with others is bad. If it was just me without her… I'd feel sad. Yes, very sad."

Sol felt her chest tighten, a strange warmth spreading through her as she listened to his words. She looked into his eyes, her own eyes widening slightly as he continued, his voice soft but resolute.

"I think… I'm starting to like you too," he said, his words simple but weighted with an honesty that struck her deeply. "So, I want to do things together with you. I want to learn more about you. And I want to make this uncomfortable feeling in my chest go away. It's always there when i look at you."

Her heart leapt at his words, a feeling of surprise and something deeper, something she couldn't quite name. She had spent so long pushing people away, building walls around herself. But here was Tarak, unafraid, offering his hand to her, offering a friendship she hadn't known she'd wanted.

"So… you really want to be together with me?" she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath, as if saying it any louder might shatter the fragile hope that had started to bloom in her chest.

He nodded, his face calm, his tone as steady as ever. "You can't hurt me, not really," he replied, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips his voice tinged with certainty and a bit of pride.

And in that moment, she couldn't help it—she laughed, a genuine, unguarded laugh that felt like it shook something loose inside her. Before she could think twice, she shot forward, wrapping her arms around his neck in a fierce hug. She felt his arms hesitate, then slowly come up to return the hug, and a warmth spread through her that she hadn't felt in what seemed like forever. Though he did kind of awkwardly pat her back as well.

"If you're saying I can lean on you, then we're partners from now on," she declared, her voice filled with a new confidence. "I'll look after you, Tarak. I'll be a proper caretaker, just like you said. After all, your sister is still little, right? Someone's gotta look after you."

Tarak's expression shifted slightly, a flicker of protectiveness flashing in his crimson eyes. "Don't make fun of my sister," he replied, his tone serious.

She couldn't help but laugh at his earnestness, pulling back to look him in the eyes. "Oh, you're something else," she said with a grin. "And why do you talk all slow like that?"

Tarak stared at her deadpan, clearly unamused by her teasing, but she only laughed harder. Without thinking, she reached out and gently stretched his cheeks into a semblance of a smile. "Come on, smile! It won't kill you!"

His expression softened slightly, and she thought she saw a glimmer of amusement in his eyes before he pulled back, his face settling back into its usual calm.

As he stood up, ready to walk away, she called after him, "I'll see you tomorrow, Tarak!" He paused, giving her a small nod before continuing on his way. Watching him disappear back into the school building, she felt a warmth settle in her chest, one that lingered long after he was gone.

After a moment, she knelt down to gather the broken pieces of her mock sword. The frustration she had felt earlier was gone, replaced by a calm resolve. She knew she would still struggle, still have moments of weakness, but now… now she didn't feel so alone.

"Take care of myself, huh?" she murmured, a faint smile curving her lips as she stood, holding the pieces of her sword close to her chest. She made her way to the school's nursing area, carefully wrapping her hands in fresh bandages.

She would smile for the rest of the day.

_____________________

Midea had spent the better part of the morning making preparations for the siblings' training session. He'd meticulously researched the area, learning what he could of the planet's wildlife, but even more so, he had focused on its unpredictable environmental factors. The world was anything but normal, and Midea's suspicion had only grown with each passing day. The density of numen here was on par with his former home in Hell, and Hell was no ordinary realm but a structured, multi-layered dimension. This dense numen pointed to one thing: they were either on a particularly unique planet or, perhaps, in an unusual pocket within a much larger realm. Or perhaps even a realm fragment despite how rare those were.

Still, the planet's dangers didn't faze him entirely. They only underscored the necessity of training the two siblings, preparing them for the times he couldn't be around. His mind flashed to images of shades, viral swamps, and leech grass, things most young villagers couldn't dream of surviving. Yet, Surya and Tarak were hardly "ordinary" young villagers, and their adaptability and sheer physical might gave him some confidence that they could survive. More than that, he'd counted on it in the course of their training.

Now, leaning casually against a tree near the training grounds, Midea wore his signature smirk. The training location he'd picked was perfect: dense trees surrounded the area, giving it a secluded, almost ominous feel as shadows stretched across the grass. He'd put together a series of drills that would leave the two of them thoroughly exhausted. Alongside these, he'd crafted special, warded vests designed to add resistance—restraints that would aid their training by forcing them to overcome their own power. He chuckled to himself. They'd be pushed to their limits, whether they knew it or not.

The sound of footsteps reached his ears, signaling the siblings' arrival. As they approached, Midea noticed Surya's cautious expression, her eyes narrowing slightly at him as if already anticipating his schemes.

"Alright then, little ones, let's head to the site!" he called out, his voice carrying an unsettling cheer that didn't quite match his usual composed demeanor.

"Have you made the proper preparations?" Surya asked, her gaze wary. "You're aware of how dangerous this world is, right?"

Midea chuckled, feigning nonchalance. "You needn't worry. A Scelus never disappoints, and besides, you need to face the wild if you ever hope to conquer it. Lervea's children shouldn't be so cowardly!" His laughter echoed, undercut by an almost mocking tone.

Surya's gaze hardened, her mouth twisting into a slight smirk. "You call it cowardly; I call it common sense. Have your horns grown into your brain? Do you struggle to understand that fact?"

He raised a brow at her words, catching the faint influence of Hati in her tone. The girl was becoming sharper, her retorts more biting, and Midea could only blame her growing camaraderie with Hati. She was already being "corrupted," as he'd put it, but this would only make their training more entertaining.

As they made their way deeper into the woods, Midea's smirk widened. He'd planned a little surprise to kick off their training. With a subtle snap of his fingers, he activated a ward he'd set earlier, releasing a shade he'd trapped within a carefully arranged circle. The creature materialized in the air, its form shifting and flickering, a spectral, shadowy figure with shifting, amorphous limbs that seemed to flicker between existence and oblivion. It surged toward them, emitting a low, unearthly growl that rattled the branches overhead.

Midea watched with satisfaction as Surya and Tarak both jumped back, their faces momentarily filled with shock. The shade lunged closer, its eyes glinting with an unnatural, ghostly light that seemed to hunger for them. Midea chuckled, fully expecting them to be suitably rattled by the encounter. Yet, even as the creature neared, he felt confident—he'd set additional wards on it, preventing it from truly attacking. A form of curse, using wards on it's form to restrict its abilities. It was meant to be a harmless scare, an introduction to the kinds of dangers they might face.

But then, something unexpected happened.

Surya, in a sudden surge of determination, swung her fist at the shade's flickering head. Her knuckles made contact—solid contact. A shockwave rippled outward as her fist struck, and in a single, resounding blow, the shade's head disintegrated, its entire form evaporating into a fine mist before dispersing into nothingness. The air stilled, and in the quiet that followed, a small shadow core clattered to the ground, rolling to a stop by Tarak's feet.

Midea's chuckle died on his lips. What the hell?

Surya stood frozen, her hand still raised in the position of her punch, her gaze fixed on the spot where the shade had been just moments before. She looked just as stunned as he felt, her expression a mixture of confusion and disbelief.

Tarak, meanwhile, crouched down to pick up the shadow core, his small fingers curling around the dark, semi-transparent orb. He glanced up at his sister, holding the core out to her with a blank but expectant look.

"Midea," Surya began, finally breaking the silence as she turned to him, her brow furrowing. "Did you… do something to that shade?"

He could hear the thin thread of suspicion in her voice, but there was also a faint hint of genuine curiosity. Usually, she would be furious at a stunt like this, but her confusion seemed to have eclipsed any irritation for the moment.

He cleared his throat, struggling to recover his composure. "I set a curse on the creature to prevent it from attacking you," he explained, his own bewilderment creeping into his tone. "It was supposed to be harmless, just a little scare. You shouldn't have been able to hit it, let alone destroy it."

Surya raised a brow, her gaze sharpening with intrigue as she glanced at the shadow core in her brother's hand. She looked back at Midea, clearly deep in thought. "You're saying it was just affected by a curse, yet I still destroyed it? Is that… normal? Do curses make the intangible tangible?"

Midea shook his head, still at a loss. "It's likely related to your ability to devour souls, though I've never seen it work quite like this. Shades are spectral entities—not exactly souls but connected to the souls in a unique way. They could be considered the shell of a soul thay is what a shade is an entity similar to a ghost. Many beings with strong souls who lose their bodies might become beings like shades, yet they're notoriously difficult to kill." He paused, a hint of fascination in his voice. "It seems you can do more than just devour souls after they've perished. There's something about you—something beyond the usual."

Surya looked back down at the core in her brother's hand, a strange, hungry glint flashing in her eyes. He noticed it immediately and cleared his throat, slightly uncomfortable. "Ah, and don't eat that," he said quickly, holding up a hand. "The village needs those shadow cores, especially given how vital they are for protection and camouflage on excursions. They're struggling without them."

She gave a resigned sigh, tossing the core to Midea, though the reluctance in her expression was evident. "Fine. But you should probably think about how we can use this to our advantage." She smirked, glancing at her brother. "If they value these cores so much, and they struggle to collect them, doesn't that make us… invaluable?"

Midea could only nod, his mind racing with new possibilities. Relations with the neighboring Goblin tribes were strained, to say the least, and the lack of shadow cores had limited the village's ability to gather resources without being exposed. His teachings, sutras, and wards had fortified the village to some extent, but the outside world was still incredibly perilous without a constant supply of shadow cores. This situation was likely why Remus had taken a chance on him in the first place. The way things were going they would have had to enter war with the goblins or simply collapse. The idea that Surya and likely Tarak could provide a reliable source of these rare items was invaluable—and could solidify their status within the village, making it impossible for them to be cast out. It could also lead them to helping the village with their little gobbie problem.

"You're absolutely right," he finally said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "But let's save that plan for later. For now, we have some training to get through." He motioned for them to follow, his mind already buzzing with schemes and strategies for how to leverage this new revelation.

The training area he'd chosen was rugged, set amid a grove of towering trees that cast long shadows over the moss-covered ground. The air was thick, filled with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves, and the distant hum of insects created an almost eerie backdrop. Small patches of mist clung to the ground, giving the place a haunting atmosphere that seemed almost alive. A perfect setting, he thought, to test the limits of their endurance.

He handed each of them a vest laden with small weights, designed to add resistance with every movement. "These will help you build strength faster. Think of it as carrying a bit of the forest on your shoulders."

Surya eyed the vest with a wary look before slipping it on, adjusting the straps as they tightened around her torso. She could feel the immediate added weight, grounding her movements and adding a satisfying challenge to every step.

"Let's start with some basic drills to get you both warmed up," Midea said, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched them adjust. "Then, we'll see how well you can handle yourselves when things get… intense."

As they began the drills, the forest around them seemed to close in, the shadows growing longer and darker with each passing minute.

__________________

Midea had been looking forward to this exercise all morning. His lips curved into a satisfied smirk as he led the two young Tyrannius to the clearing, where two towering boulders stood like giants awaiting a challenge. Each stone was roughly five meters tall and composed of dense, mineral-heavy rock—a formidable weight even before he'd applied his little twist. The siblings followed, a mixture of determination and mild annoyance visible on Surya's face as she took in the boulders.

"Alright, now go pick those up for me," he said with a taunting smile, reclining in a conjured chair as if he were about to watch a performance.

The two siblings exchanged a look before stepping toward the stones. Their hands met the coarse surface, gripping the weighty mass. Even with their natural strength, the boulders demanded their focus and concentration to lift. Midea observed their attempts with a satisfied hum, leaning back and snapping his fingers to trigger the wards woven into the stone. A faint glow traced over the rocks, sinking back as the ward's effect took hold.

"Hmmm?" Surya's expression shifted in surprise.

"Haah!" Tarak's normally composed face showed a flash of irritation as he felt the boulder become heavier in his grasp.

Midea's laugh rang through the clearing. "Ah, yes. I forgot to mention," he said, clearly savoring the moment, "I've set wards on the boulders. They'll double in weight every thirty minutes or so." He leaned back, gesturing nonchalantly with one hand. "There's a limit, of course, but trust me, you won't get that far." The limit was four hours. After all he could not increase the weight infinitely. It wasn't as if he was an eighth layer that was beyond him. But those things would get absurdly heavy by that point. They'd see their limits.

At first, Surya and Tarak managed the weight with relative ease, adjusting their grip and bearing the load with natural Tyrannius resilience. But as the minutes passed, the weight seemed to press down relentlessly, seeping into their bones and muscles with a force that was more than just physical. Tarak's muscles visibly tensed, his face holding its usual calm but with a bead of sweat forming on his brow. Surya's wings gave an instinctual twitch, as though her body urged her to use every available means to stabilize herself, but she held back, determined to rely only on her own limbs.

"You may want to think twice about using wings or tails," Midea called out, feigning a helpful tone. "You see, I've known fighters who relied too heavily on extras. Real strength, however, is in the fundamentals. And truth is my tail is useless for combat you have to train your four limbs because those are the sort of martial arts I will be teaching you. " His voice was laced with amusement, and a satisfied gleam danced in his eyes as he watched Surya shoot him a glare.

As the thirty-minute mark approached, both siblings could feel the weight grow again, a gradual yet undeniable increase that forced them to readjust their stance. Surya's jaw clenched, her muscles burning as she strained to keep her balance. The stone was beginning to feel like a living entity, pressing down with its relentless, crushing mass. Tarak, though silent, had a faint crease of concentration between his brows, his crimson eyes glinting with a faint irritation at Midea's underhanded tactic.

"Giving up already?" Midea taunted, his voice dripping with mock concern. "It's only been thirty minutes, you know."

The two siblings ignored him, though their focus was fierce. Midea's smirk deepened as another thirty minutes ticked by. The boulders seemed almost to grow heavier in response to the mounting tension, their weight compounding in a way that would've left an average eighth shackle cultivator of the first layer gasping for air. A cultivator of that level would have already collapsed. Surya's arms quivered slightly as she shifted her stance, adjusting her grip and letting the weight settle onto her shoulders. She shot Midea a brief look of defiance before refocusing on the task, her grip tightening with renewed determination.

The relentless weight continued to press down, and with each half-hour, the strain became more intense, pushing them closer to their limits. The forest around them grew hushed, as if the very trees were holding their breath, watching the struggle. Midea leaned back, thoroughly entertained. He was used to seeing warriors break under these kinds of trials, and yet, as an hour and a half passed, the siblings were still standing. This was insane. A second layer of the first shackle would only be able to keep it up in that position for a few moments. Cultivators focused more on battle power through techniques. Amplifying physical strength with numen was not a priority and didn't do much past a certain point.

To his surprise, Tarak lifted the boulder just slightly, balancing it momentarily on his horns, the stone swaying like some macabre carnival trick. The gesture was subtle, but unmistakably mocking. Midea's smirk faltered, his pride flaring at the quiet rebellion in Tarak's gaze before the boy steadied himself, returning his grip to his hands.

As another half-hour passed, the siblings grew visibly fatigued. Their muscles trembled under the strain, shoulders tense, faces glistening with sweat. Surya's breaths came in quiet, controlled gasps, her focus sharper than a blade's edge as she forced her body to comply. Her eyes caught Midea's for a fleeting moment, and though her exhaustion was evident, there was a flicker of triumph in her gaze, as if to say, "Is this all you've got?"

Midea, his pride still smarting from Tarak's earlier stunt, leaned forward, his gaze narrowing. These two were tougher than he'd anticipated. What he'd expected to exhaust them within an hour had turned into a full-blown test of endurance, and with each passing minute, they seemed to grow stronger, their bodies adjusting to the punishing weight with a resilience that bordered on supernatural. Would they get to the limit?

Two hours turned into three, the boulders now bearing down on them with a weight that no ordinary second layer cultivator could sustain. Each breath was a struggle, each shift of their stance a calculated effort to distribute the mass. Tarak's face remained composed, though his gaze held a smoldering determination, his crimson eyes never wavering from Midea's. Surya's teeth clenched as her muscles burned, the ache in her arms and legs growing unbearable. But she held on, her grip unwavering as her body pushed through the searing exhaustion.

Finally, as the fourth hour approached, the weight surged to its final increase, an overwhelming pressure that nearly brought them to their knees. Midea's satisfaction grew as he watched the boulders wobble, the siblings visibly struggling to maintain their grip. And yet, they held on.

With one last surge of effort, Surya gave a guttural cry, the sound raw and defiant as she forced herself upright, her arms trembling but locked firmly under the weight. Tarak was better standing tall, his face still a mask of focus, though his chest heaved with exertion. They'd lasted the full four hours—an achievement that, even Midea had to admit, was far beyond what he'd anticipated.

With a shared, silent understanding, the two finally let go, allowing the boulders to crash to the ground. Dust flew up in clouds as the stones settled, and both siblings staggered back, their breaths coming in harsh gasps. Despite their exhaustion, there was a glint of triumph in their eyes, a shared sense of victory that left Midea momentarily at a loss for words.

Even he could not hold up that weight for long let alone without cultivation. He was stronger than them but cultivation was not just about physical power. He had a variety of techniques they lacked and had his unique abilities like pride is the fortress of the fool. But what made these two so dangerous despite the fact that they lacked these abilities and the power output he had was that they possessed an insane level of sheer strength, speed and durability. Cultivators can hit you with a big attack and for most that would be death or at least cause severe injury within the same realm. But not for them, they were much to durable. And the fact that they lacked numen reserves meant their only limit in combat is the limit of their stamina. A cultivator without numen is a weakling most of the time but these two are never weak. A big attack can leave you without numen but how many times could these siblings punch? He remembered from reading the soul of a Jarati about wizards who were entities somewhat similar to cultivators. In fact he was pretty sure there was an actual race who called themselves wizards and claimed cultivation was magic. Which it was in a way. Numen was the basis for all things after all. Magic or otherwise you could call it whatever you wanted but cultivation was most accurate. That said the Jarati had a joke about some wizards casting fist. That was the Tyrannius in comparison to the average cultivator.

He composed himself quickly after his musings. Quickly clearing his throat and calling out, "Alright, then. Get up. We've got the next spot to head to." His voice held its usual cheer, but there was a grudging respect in his gaze as he watched them recover, standing tall despite the grueling trial.

______________

"What the hell? Was lifting a boulder above my head not enough?" Surya panted, her gaze narrowed on Midea with wary irritation.

Ignoring her question, he flashed a grin and motioned for them to follow. "Now we're going to test both your strength and agility," he said as he walked ahead. The siblings had to jog to catch up, their exhaustion showing in the shuffle of their feet. The vests he'd put on them weighed down every step, and he noticed the faint strain in their faces—though they would rather keel over than admit it.

As they walked deeper into the forest, a faint, bioluminescent glow began to light the dim underbrush around them. Aspar—he tiny, golden, tube-like creatures—floated like gentle will-o'-the-wisps, weaving between branches and casting a warm glow against the twilight-shaded trees. They seemed to increase in number as they moved, adding an almost magical quality to the otherwise treacherous woods. Midea watched as Tarak casually snatched a few of the floating creatures out of the air and popped them into his mouth, the golden juice running down his chin as he chewed with a satisfied look.

Midea stifled a chuckle, shaking his head. Lord Antichrist, something is wrong with these kids.

They finally came upon a large clearing, surrounded by thick trees and thorny underbrush. In the center of the clearing was a bare expanse of ground, and growing from the dirt were hundreds of stems topped with single, colorful leaves. Each leaf had a vibrant, almost unnatural hue that stood out in sharp contrast to the muted greens and browns of the surrounding forest, making the whole scene appear oddly serene—deceptively so.

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Midea's smirk widened as he imagined the chaos about to unfold. He gestured toward the colorful leaves. "See those leaves? They're durable, strong enough to support your weight if you know how to balance properly. So you'll be hopping from one to another across the clearing. Simple enough, right?"

Surya's eyes narrowed, catching the mischievous glint in his expression. "What's the catch?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"The catch," he continued, as though savoring every word, "is that these aren't ordinary leaves. They're the sensory organs of the viernes snap trap." He paused, letting that sink in. "The moment they feel any pressure, they'll lunge out and snap at you, trying to make you a meal. Your task is to cross the field without getting caught. I'm giving you an hour. Oh, and—" he added with a pointed look, "the two of you are tough enough to survive a few snaps, so I won't be rushing in to save you."

Surya's eyes widened with incredulity. "So you're telling us to go get eaten by plants? Are you insane, Midea?"

"Insane?" he mocked with a grin. "Weren't you the one who promised to do whatever it took to train? If this is enough to make you squirm, you'd die in your first tribulation. Now, get on with it. Trust me, it's not the worst thing in the world."

Surya's glare sharpened into an expression that could have sent lesser beings running. Even Midea felt a flicker of unease as he met her gaze; they were Lervea's children, after all, and that wasn't something he could afford to forget. But the unease only heightened his satisfaction. These little terrors had needed humbling from the start, and he was going to make damn sure they got it. He glanced at the vests weighing them down—another layer of difficulty in his plan. The resistance would do more than slow them; it would force them to rely solely on balance and bodily control without a single ounce of help from their usual abilities.

There were about one hundred and eighty leaves stretched across the clearing in a chaotic, almost maze-like pattern, forming the treacherous obstacle course. Though there were many more that was roughly how many there were to get across to the other side. It was wider than it was long. Tarak went first, moving with that unnervingly calm determination as he launched himself from the ground onto the first leaf. He landed cleanly, managing to jump to a second and then a third. But on the fourth, he misjudged his footing, slipping slightly. Before he could fully adjust, a giant mouth, lined with thorny teeth, shot up from the ground and swallowed him whole.

Surya's shocked yell cut through the silence. Midea's laugh echoed across the clearing. "Well, that's one attempt wasted for him!"

He watched with amusement as Tarak clawed his way out of the plant's maw, his face set in an expression that was equal parts rage and frustration. The orange, sticky sap of the plant clung to him, giving his already intense appearance a strange glow as he tried and failed to shake off the residue. Midea saw him turn, fists clenched, ready to strike back at the plant.

"Ah, ah, ah! No killing the viernes!" Midea called out, wagging his finger in warning. "They've been so generous to help us today. Besides, you'd probably end up destroying the entire field."

Tarak shot him a murderous glare, but Midea merely chuckled, turning to Surya. Her expression was one of almost pure loathing, her eyes practically saying, You are the worst scum. Midea waved a hand with exaggerated cheer, signaling her to take her turn.

Surya, still casting Midea a murderous glare, took a breath before launching herself onto the first leaf, then the second. Her steps were careful and precise, each landing perfectly balanced. But as she leapt to the fifth leaf, the weight of the vest threw her off, her wings instinctively twitching to stabilize her balance. The momentary hesitation was enough for the plant to sense her misstep. With alarming speed, the trap shot up and snapped around her, closing its thorny jaws over her form.

When she finally forced her way out, sticky orange sap coated her wings, solidifying almost instantly in the open air. She shivered, scratching at the gummy material stuck to her feathers. "This feels horrid. I need to get this out of my wings—it's disgusting!" she complained, her face twisting in revulsion.

Midea stifled a laugh, feigning sympathy. "Just bear with it; we'll get them cleaned… once we're back at the village. But I'd suggest picking up the pace—you've got forty-five minutes left."

This was of course part of his plan for the next stage of their training. Gunking up her wings was a necessity. Flight was tricky to deal with. And of course, if he had his way the kids wouldn't be going back to the village for quite a while. He wasn't lying though he would get her cleaned. It would just be longer than she thought.

Surya's fists clenched, trembling with irritation, but she let it drop with a defeated sigh, understanding there was no other choice. The siblings resumed their attempts, each fall ending with them being snapped up and spat out, covered in more of the sticky substance. Every time Tarak's tail got slurped up like a noodle, Midea couldn't help but laugh, lounging back as he enjoyed the show.

As the minutes ticked by, the siblings' progress became noticeably faster. Midea was impressed despite himself. Surya had adapted quickly, using her feet to shift her weight the moment she landed, and her brother was using his tail to counterbalance his jumps. It was efficient and showed an admirable degree of improvisation, even though the vests made every movement painfully slow compared to their normal selves. They were at leaf fifty with thirty minutes remaining, Surya ahead by a few leaves while Tarak trailed slightly behind. It was clear they wouldn't make it through all one hundred and eighty, but that hadn't been Midea's expectation. Only cultivators with trained numen control could manage a course like this unscathed.

But, he thought with a hint of satisfaction, these aren't just any kids. They're the spawn of that legendary cannibal. No, cannibal wasn't the right term, not when no one else shared her race. Perhaps "gourmet" was more accurate.

The pace of their jumps accelerated. Surya broached the hundred-leaf mark, her brother only a few leaves behind at ninety-two. He watched their faces, noting the intense concentration. A small part of him felt a spark of pride watching them push through, but he quickly stifled it. Wait, am I rooting for them now? He shook his head, forcing himself back into the mindset of their unforgiving trainer. He was a demon after all. He couldn't get caught lacking like that.

With fifteen minutes left, both siblings had surpassed his expectations. Surya had reached one hundred and fifty leaves, and her brother was rapidly catching up. The determination on their faces was palpable. They fell, then climbed right back out and tried again, never pausing to wipe their bodies or catch their breath.

As the clock approached the final five minutes, Surya moved with almost reckless confidence, bounding between the leaves in a fluid, almost dance-like rhythm. She hit the one-hundred-and-sixty mark with a brilliant grin, adrenaline pushing her through. Tarak was at one hundred and forty-five, his face set in grim determination.

At three minutes, Surya was flipping from leaf to leaf, barely touching them before propelling herself forward, clearing the final leaf with a triumphant, breathless laugh. Tarak, eyes locked onto his sister's progress, powered forward with one last burst of energy. There were only thirty seconds left, and he jumped leaf to leaf with a reckless abandon, almost falling twice but recovering with the aid of his tail. With five seconds left, he cleared the last leaf, landing beside Surya just as the timer hit zero.

A grin broke across Surya's face as she wrapped her brother in a fierce hug, murmuring a quiet congratulations. The brat flashed a middle finger at Midea, and his eyebrow twitched in irritation. He scowled, muttering under his breath, Satan—no, dammit, Hati, I swear these kids are going to be the death of me.

Despite the orange gunk still coating them, the two siblings were laughing, each seeming to revel in their small victory. They ignored the sticky residue that clung to their bodies, their faces alight with a shared triumph that only came from grueling effort. Midea watched them jump around in celebration, struggling not to let his respect show. They weren't supposed to finish the course, and yet somehow, they had managed to clear it with seconds to spare.

Damn impressive, he admitted grudgingly to himself. Both of them showed incredible talent, even beyond the physical. Surya had displayed agility and quick thinking, adapting her movements as she went. Tarak, on the other hand, had shown a surprising level of balance and strength, his body naturally suited for resilience. Maybe it was a matter of gender, or perhaps something unique to them individually. If it was a matter of gender then that was a bit terrifying. No one could claim to be the superior of Lervea in sheer physical strength. Not the great archdemon of sloth even, probably not the twelfth layers either. The idea that there was a man out there even stronger than her was insane. But, in either case, their strengths balanced each other well.

Midea leaned back, contemplating the depth of their potential. It was rare to see such raw martial aptitude, especially in those so young. This test wasn't just about physical strength; it was a challenge of adaptability, control, and agility. It demanded finesse—a careful balance of power and precision. They had all the makings of formidable martial artists, ones who could someday even grasp powerful concepts like fist intent or body technique mastery. Their combat talent was undeniable. He had seen it in their prior battle, but today had solidified the knowledge that they were exceptional. However, he didn't know about their talent with weapons. To his knowledge, Lervea didn't use any and she never used armor either. Of course, they didn't have to be their mother but he assumed there may be some reason for that. With cultivation, it wasn't like armor had to actually look like armor. There were beautiful dresses out there more durable than a planet of orichalum. So it wasn't as if fashion was an issue. He shook his head, he was far too weak to worry about Lervea's choice of clothing or lack of weaponry. And it wasn't as if he was a weapon master either. That being said they weren't done. It was time for his plan to come together.

After all, this wasn't the end of their training. Today wasn't about honing martial prowess or simply agility; it was about pushing them to their very physical limits.

"Alright, that's enough celebrating," he called out, the grin on his face sharpening with fresh intent. "We're not done just yet."

Surya narrowed her eyes. "You've got something else for us?" she asked, her tone wary but defiant.

"Oh, indeed," he replied with a grin that promised anything but kindness. "This last one's a reward for passing that last test in an hour. But," he added, casting her an amused glance, "maybe not the kind of 'reward' you're thinking of."

Surya sighed, shooting him a look of exasperation. "Somehow, I'm pretty sure you don't know what a reward is."

Ignoring her, Midea continued walking, leading them through a path that twisted around thorny plants and towering foliage. He'd made sure this path was difficult to reach, and it wasn't somewhere the village kids would find on their own. Finally, they came upon the covered hole, where he stopped, pretending to inspect the ground, although he knew exactly what lay beneath the leafy cover.

"Here we are," he said with an air of mock ceremony, gesturing to the patch of bare ground in the center of the clearing. It appeared undisturbed, aside from a faint layer of leaves and branches that covered a concealed hole beneath. Surya's sharp eyes narrowed, and Tarak tilted his head, both looking at him with a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

"What's the catch?" Surya asked, a hint of defiance in her voice. "Just a patch of dirt?"

The area was heavy with numen, the invisible energy thick enough to feel like a subtle hum in the air. Though he doubted the kids could fully sense it—beyond what their bodies absorbed naturally—he knew they could feel something different here. The clearing was bathed in a soft, faint glow from aspars that drifted lazily around them like tiny, golden fireflies.

Midea glanced at the hole once more, knowing that beneath lay a gravitational flux, a rare phenomenon that increased gravity to a nearly crushing degree. The pit was deep, and the walls were slick and unforgiving. It would be a nightmare to climb out, especially with the vests still weighing them down. But he had prepared well: he'd stashed enough food and water down there to last them three days. He thought they'd probably need longer but they'd be fine as Tyrannius. They would however face a grueling trial to climb back up. It was why he had planned for the Vierenes. He had done that to gunk up Surya's wings so she couldn't simply fly out of the hole.

Standing behind them, Midea gave the kids a light push toward the hole. Surya twisted around, her wings sticking awkwardly with the lingering orange sap. "Midea, what are you doing—ahhh!"

Both siblings tumbled forward, their protests swallowed by a brief flurry of leaves as they plunged downward. The last thing Midea saw before they disappeared was their shocked expressions, which brought a wicked grin to his face. Perfect. He dusted his hands, already imagining the lessons they'd be learning as they clawed their way up.

The forest around him was quiet, with only the distant calls of animals and the soft rustle of aspars drifting through the trees. Midea leaned against a tree at the edge of the clearing, arms crossed as he settled in to watch the hole's entrance from above. He had no intention of leaving them; he would ensure no dangerous creatures wandered near while they were down there. But he had no intention of helping them out, either.

This secluded part of the forest was beautiful in a stark, eerie way, a blend of primal nature and lethal challenges that reflected the wilderness of the world they lived in. Shafts of dim light illuminated clusters of carnivorous plants, their bright colors a warning to any who dared venture too close. Midea's gaze drifted back to the hole as he chuckled to himself, feeling a brief, mocking sympathy.

"Enjoy the climb, little monsters," he murmured, his voice lost in the forest's silent watch.

___________________

Tanya's stomach lurched as she fell into the hidden pit, her vision spinning as the world became a blur of jagged shadows and dim light. The rocks scraping past barely registered as her body took the brunt of the fall with barely a scratch. Actually not a scratch at all. But it was the oppressive weight pressing down on her, the relentless, invisible force in the air that left her stunned.

She hit the bottom with a solid thud, and even her bones seemed to vibrate with the impact. Beside her, Tarak landed heavily, his breath coming in short, strained gasps as he adjusted to the sudden, crushing gravity. They both tried to push up, to move even an inch, but found that even lifting their arms felt like attempting to break through steel.

Tanya managed a frustrated sigh, though it was shaky. Of course, she thought grimly, it's a flux. This wasn't some ordinary fall—it was like they'd been dropped into an abyss that sought to grind them down with sheer, unyielding weight. She could feel her heartbeat thundering in her chest, each beat straining under the multiplied force of gravity around them. The vests, which had already left their muscles screaming from their earlier training, now seemed like solid slabs of iron strapped to their chests and shoulders.

For a few moments, all Tanya could do was lie there, the weight of the world pressing her into the hard ground below. She could feel every ache, every bruise from the long day settling into her bones, and she fought the overwhelming urge just to close her eyes and drift off, giving in to the relentless pressure. But the thought of Mideas shitty grinning face, and of the life waiting for her above, forced her back from the brink of just falling asleep. She wanted to deck the shit out of that demon.

Beside her, Tarak's breathing steadied, his voice emerging in a low, heated growl, completely abandoning its usual slow drawl. "I'm going to eat him from the legs up," he muttered, his eyes flashing with irritation.

"Together," she agreed, her own voice dark with promise. The two exchanged a look of shared vengeance that said more than words. Midea had put them through grueling trials all day, pushing them to their limits, mocking them, testing their patience and strength. But, despite her anger, Tanya couldn't deny that his methods had helped. Through the previous challenges, she had felt her body slowly adapt, adjusting to the insane challenges, shaping itself to handle the increased strain with an efficiency she'd never imagined. For example while she was capable of lifting that boulder at it's heaviest before it would not be for long. But with the gradual training she felt her strength and endurance increase quite a bit from before. She would be able to lift it for a longer time now.

When she'd been born into this life, she'd been hyper-aware of the sheer density of the air around her, the constant tug of gravity heavier than anything she remembered from her previous life. But her body had already learned to adjust, evolving to survive in an environment that would crush an ordinary human. That was the instinctive shift she felt after she was born. Today's trials had only intensified that process, forcing her muscles to strain, to adapt with each new weight. She thought of her mother sparingly. No wonder the woman was known for her immense might. Tyrannius blood seemed to be top-grade steroids. That being said this was far beyond the gradual growth she'd felt before. This was a brutal, relentless test of endurance.

Still, she thought, fighting to catch her breath, it's doable. She could already feel it—her body slowly adjusting to the flux, bit by bit, like an unseen mechanism beginning to shift, recalibrating under the crushing pressure. It was a barely noticeable change, but it was there. And knowing that it was only a matter of time before she could stand, even if it took hours, filled her with a renewed, if grim, determination.

She glanced at Tarak, who was grinding his teeth, the tendons in his neck taut with effort. She could feel her body responding faster than she expected, and she was certain he was experiencing the same. They didn't speak further; they were too focused on each other's breaths, each slow, shallow inhale, and exhale helping to ground them as they fought against the gravity's pull.

Around them, the dim glow of bioluminescent moss lit the cavernous walls of the pit, casting the area in an eerie greenish-blue light. She could see the faint shimmer of spores drifting through the heavy air, thickening around them with each passing moment. The walls themselves were jagged in some places, slick and smooth in others, with patches of bioluminescent moss growing in uneven clusters. She noted how the moss seemed to almost pulse under the weight of the flux, as though responding to the same gravitational forces that held them captive.

A faint rustling sound drew her attention, and she noticed tiny, darting shapes flitting in and out of the shadows—a type of insect she recognized as Pipla. She squinted, watching them scuttle through cracks in the walls, their movements unimpeded by the crushing weight around them. She felt a flicker of envy at the creatures' ease, noting their odd, almost defiant resilience against the numen-dense environment. Perhaps they are of a higher shackle, she mused, watching them scurry past.

"Well, there is one way to make this go faster…" She murmured under her breath, then reached out, catching one of the Pipla in her fingers, examining it briefly before popping it into her mouth. It crunched between her teeth, and she could feel the faint flicker of numen settle into her body, minimal but tangible, as though her cells were absorbing every ounce of the energy. A cycle completed, even from a single Pipla. It was the first cycle she completed as she had never actually killed and ate the same thing she killed. She felt her body hum in satisfaction as she finally got all the energy rather than a bit being wasted. All that said and done most of it went to that abyss, but it definitely helped. She glanced over at Tarak and gave a slight nod, wordlessly suggesting he do the same. He agreed and but after a moment, followed her lead, snatching up a few of the insects and eating them with the same focus.

The energy was faint, almost negligible, but each Pipla seemed to add just the smallest amount of strength to their exhausted forms. For the first time, Tanya felt herself settling into a rhythm of survival that felt oddly… satisfying. She wasn't sure if it was her Tyrannius nature asserting itself or just her sheer will to survive, but she allowed herself to enjoy the brief respite, knowing it would fuel the climb ahead.

Sorry, little Pipla, she thought, letting a flicker of guilt pass through her. But if I'm staying down here, it won't be for a week. If you want to blame someone blame the demon. It was a bit cruel but it wasn't as if they were sapient. But perhaps in a world where nearly everything had a soul the distinction between sapience and sentience wasn't nearly as important as she had thought it was before. But she was always a survivalist, good or evil that kind of thing only mattered when you had the power and privilege to decide what you wanted to do. People when faced with death could care less about good or evil. They are illusory concepts, one must do what they must to survive and advance. This was the dogma she lived by in her second life. Perhaps she didn't have to live that way in this one but humans were not so easy to change. And she had decided she never would be weak again. Then again I'm not even human anymore.

Time stretched, and eventually, her body felt light enough to shift slightly. She strained against the force pinning her to the ground, feeling her muscles scream as she moved, slowly pushing herself upright. Beside her, Tarak managed to roll onto his knees ahead of her, his hands trembling as he gripped the ground. But rather than worry about himself and his own restraining vest he turned to her. Without a word, he leaned over and began helping her instead, hands steady despite his fatigue. She was capable of doing it herself, her body beginning to adjust, but she let him help, feeling a quiet warmth at his instinct to care for her. Even so, Tanya refused to let this affection make her soft. The world was harsh, and no amount of sibling camaraderie would change that. Well at least she would try not to let it change her. Instincts were hard to fight.

After a few minutes of strained movements, they finally shrugged off the vests, feeling a sudden, blessed lightness as the crushing weight on their shoulders eased. Under the moonlight filtering through the opening above, they locked eyes, a silent resolve passing between them as they prepared for the climb.

Tanya extended her claws, digging into the wall, finding a narrow edge that would support her weight. But as she gripped it and pulled, the stone beneath her hand crumbled, collapsing in a fine layer of dust. She gaped in disbelief, her hand instinctively retreating as she frowned down at the shattered rock. She hadn't put that much force into it.

"Must be the moss," Tarak said, observing the area around them. "I heard certain kinds can weaken stone over time."

She nodded, mentally scolding herself for not noticing sooner. On Earth, such a thing wouldn't make sense, but here—where even the air seemed ready to crush them—such things were par for the course. Each handhold, each foothold, had to be chosen carefully, or else the moss would render the stone beneath it brittle as paper.

The climb was brutal. At first, every movement took monumental effort as their bodies fought against the crushing weight, muscles burning as they inched their way up. Tarak's tail proved useful, anchoring him when he stumbled, though she occasionally felt a flash of envy. It was a useful tool at the moment compared to her who was struggling more. She forced herself to focus, knowing her wings would serve her eventually… once she got this sticky gunk off of them.

Hours seemed to pass as they struggled upward. The soft glow of the moss and Pipla insects cast their path in dim light, enough to see but barely. Each time her claws dug into clean stone, Tanya felt a surge of satisfaction. And though they occasionally lost their grip and tumbled back down a few feet, they learned quickly, choosing their handholds with caution and avoiding moss-laden patches. At one point, her foot slipped, and she felt herself start to fall, but Tarak's hand shot out, gripping her shoulder and steadying her before she could slide too far.

Her muscles screamed in protest, her lungs aching with every breath as they climbed higher, inch by painful inch. The world above them seemed so close, yet so far—an endless goal just beyond their reach. They could see the faint silver light of dawn filtering in, casting the stone in ghostly shadows, making it feel like they were ascending into another world.

As the night bled into morning, Tanya could feel her body adjusting fully, her senses sharpening, her strength solidifying as the adaptations to this crushing weight took hold. With renewed resolve, she pressed on, every clawed handhold bringing them closer to freedom. And finally, as the last of the moonlight faded into the soft light of dawn, Tarak crested the edge of the pit, his breath heavy but triumphant. She followed, her body spent, drenched in sweat and exhaustion, as she hauled herself over the lip of the pit, rolling onto her back.

A shout of surprise reached her ears, and she cracked one eye open to see Midea staring down at them, clearly taken aback.

They had made it out, barely. But as she looked up at the wide sky above, every grueling inch of the climb felt worth it. For what she would do next of course.

______________

"What!" Midea's voice echoed in sheer disbelief. "It's only been ten hours!"

Tanya didn't care. Her narrowed eyes found the demon's face, her mouth set in a determined line. She could see the faintest twitch of shock on his face as he watched her stagger upright. The mix of anger and exhaustion twisted into a singular focus: Midea was going to pay for that "reward."

"Come on, Tarak," she growled, never taking her eyes off their instructor. "Let's show him just how much we appreciated this lesson. I've been craving goat stew."

Tarak was already at her side, an equally dangerous glint in his eyes as he cast one last look at the pit. "Of course sister," he replied, cracking his knuckles with a gleam of mischief interlaced with violence that was unmistakable.

"Wait! Calm down, it was for training!" Midea exclaimed, his voice laced with an odd mixture of panic and amusement. "You'll thank me one day, I swear!"

Without missing a beat, Tanya took off at a sprint, every sore muscle coming alive with the single-minded determination of catching him. Tarak followed, matching her stride for stride, his expression just as fierce. Midea, realizing he was outmatched, turned on his heel and bolted, his crimson cloak flaring behind him as he wove between the trees, laughing and muttering curses under his breath.

"Come on, little ones, we can all be mature about this!" he shouted over his shoulder, though the mocking lilt in his voice made Tanya's blood boil.

They chased him across the clearing, dodging roots and low-hanging branches, weaving through the tall stalks of strange, spiny plants that seemed to reach toward them. Golden aspars drifted around like floating embers, casting an eerie glow across the twilight-draped forest. Tanya could feel the sting of her own bruises as she ran, but the sight of Midea's wide-eyed, feigned horror was more than enough motivation to keep her going.

Tarak, catching up to Midea's side, lunged, claws outstretched. But Midea ducked just in time, grinning as he rolled to avoid the grab. "Nice try, Tarak! But you'll have to be faster than that to—"

A chunk of earth whizzed past his face, courtesy of Tanya. She grinned as Midea did a quick sidestep, narrowly avoiding the projectile. "Alright, alright!" he shouted, his voice carrying that same cocky tone. "Lesson learned! Let's not resort to barbarism here, huh?"

"Barbarism?" Tanya growled, grabbing another rock. "That's rich, coming from the demon who shoved us into a fucking gravity well!"

Midea kept just out of reach, expertly weaving through the trees and letting out a mocking laugh every time one of them came close. He darted left, and they both adjusted, cutting him off from all sides and closing in. For a moment, Tanya felt a thrill of triumph—they had him cornered.

But in a flash, he vanished, his laughter echoing as the two of them collided, stumbling into each other with a mutual groan.

"Didn't anyone ever teach you that patience is a virtue?" Midea taunted, reappearing a few paces away, his eyes dancing with mischief.

They glared at him in unison, their breaths heavy. They were still panting from the climb, and every muscle in Tanya's body throbbed, but there was no way she was going to let him off that easily.

As she reached down, searching for another stone, a hiss cut through the clearing. She froze, her hand tightening around the rock as her gaze dropped to the ground.

In the tall grass nearby, a Snavine slithered, its green scales glistening in the dim light, rows of sharp, venomous spines lining its back. The creature coiled itself, its body rigid, as if preparing to strike. And in one fluid motion, it launched its barbed quills directly at her.

Tanya reacted on instinct, throwing her arms up as a barrier. Pain shot through her, sharp and fiery, as several of the spines pierced her forearms, embedding themselves deep in her flesh. The force of the blow sent her stumbling back, her vision blurring for a moment as she felt the rush of hot blood trickling down her arms, staining the ground in splatters of dark crimson and faint silver.

"Surya!" Tarak's voice was filled with panic, his face a mask of horror as he whipped around, his tail lashing like a whip.

Midea's expression lost its usual playful edge, his gaze sharpening with genuine concern. But in that instant, Tarak's instincts kicked in. With a single, powerful movement, his tail whipped across the ground, catching the Snavine's body and slicing it clean in half. Midea's palm shot forward, crushing the creature's head with a pulse of energy that splattered green ichor across the ground.

But the damage had been done.

Tanya could feel the barbs lodged deep in her arms, every pulse of her heartbeat sending another wave of fiery pain radiating from the wounds. Her breath came in short gasps, and though the agony was sharp, she fought to keep her expression steady, her gaze calm as she looked at Tarak.

"Surya, are you okay?" Tarak's voice trembled, the look in his eyes frantic as he stared at her wounds.

She forced a small smile, reaching up to gently pat his head, her hand trembling slightly from the effort. "I'm fine," she murmured, her voice steady. "I'll recover. It's… not as bad as it looks." Children should be comforted at times like this.

But Midea's face was grim as he knelt down, examining the barbs embedded in her skin. He muttered something under his breath, probably swearing in demonic or enochian if the bible was right, before shaking his head. "I'm shocked you're still standing. Those spines could pierce the defenses of a higher second layer—barely stopped by your arms alone. Your very tough indeed." He sighed, the weight of his concern visible as he added, "We need to find something to help heal you."

But Tanya had had enough of the waiting. Grimacing, she braced herself and gripped the first barb, yanking it free in one swift motion. The sudden pain was blinding, but she stifled a cry, gritting her teeth as blood flowed freely from the open wound. She was no stranger to such injuries she had been a soldier after all. Midea's eyes widened as he lunged forward, grabbing her arm and channeling numen into it, trying to stem the bleeding.

But his numen disappeared, vanishing into the same inexplicable abyss that seemed to devour every bit of external energy she encountered. Nothing happened, though she could feel her body working to seal the wound. The healing was slow, but it was happening, her cells knitting together at a barely perceptible pace. Still, it was enough for her. After all she could see the wound closing slowly. It was far faster than her healing as a human had been.

"Surya!" She felt a light scratch at her wrist and looked down to see Tarak's claws carefully prying at one of her wounds. But she caught sight of something else—a small, writhing, white shape. She barely had time to register it before Tarak ripped out half of the creature, a leech, leaving the other half burrowing further into her wound.

Instinct told her not to panic, to ignore the sense of alarm flashing through her mind. "It's probably nothing," she said, though she was mostly trying to convince herself. She pressed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Just a little leech… I'll deal with it later."

Midea's frown deepened as he looked between the wound and her calm expression. "Let me try something." He ran another pulse of numen through her, but, as usual, it vanished without effect.

"Satan–dammit!" he muttered, rubbing his temples in frustration. "I can't even see into your body, let alone locate that thing. Your physiology… it's like staring into a void."

Tanya glanced at him thoughtfully, recognizing the perplexity on his face as he struggled to reconcile her physical form with his understanding of how energy and flesh were supposed to work. Her body felt real enough, with flesh and blood, muscles, and a heartbeat—or rather, several, a discovery she had made in her early days here. And yet, her body defied scrutiny, like an impenetrable fortress hiding its secrets within. He could not see her soul not could he see her body. She was confident from what happened to her consciousness that this body had a soul. And well she obviously had a material body. Was there a connection between them? Not being able to see her soul and see into her body that is.

Midea shook his head, snapping out of his musings. "We need to get you back to the village. They'll likely know what type of leech this is and have medicine to deal with it. It might be nothing… but it might be something."

Tanya nodded, and as they made their way back, she found herself looking around at the dense forest that had become a battleground that day. The spiral branches overhead twisted together like an endless web, Aspars glowing like stars in the deepening twilight. The silence here was laced with a constant sense of lurking danger, each rustling leaf or snapping twig reminding her of the unforgiving nature of this world.

As they walked, the day gradually bled into dusk, the forest casting elongated shadows that seemed to breathe with life. It was beautiful in a brutal, haunting way—a world of survival, challenge, and raw power.

With the silence hanging heavy between them, Tanya felt her thoughts drift back to earlier, remembering the shade and what she and Tarak had done. The ease with which they'd destroyed it, despite the creature's ghostly nature, lingerd in her mind. Her instincts told her that this ability to destroy shades was unusual, something even Midea hadn't fully understood. If she and Tarak could kill these entities with such ease, there could be ways to turn this power to their advantage.

A small smirk pulled at her lips as she glanced at her brother. He was still tense, his jaw set in a stubborn line. The day's trials had clearly worn on him too, but he kept close, watching her carefully as though ready to catch her if she faltered. Her heart warmed, even in her weariness. She wasn't sure if it was her affection for him or the strange nature of her new body, but her bond with Tarak felt unbreakable. They had both survived a hellish day, facing each test with tenacity and defiance, and somehow, they had come out of it stronger. But the truth was, she wasn't ready to show Midea any gratitude—not yet.

As the village walls came into sight, Midea glanced back at the two of them, a wry grin spreading across his face. "Well, I have to say, you both exceeded expectations today," he began, voice thick with smug amusement. "Consider this a taste of the trials ahead. You'll thank me someday."

Tanya just rolled her eyes. She just wanted wash up and fall asleep.

_____________

Bang Bang Bang.

Hati's forehead met the desk with a muted thud as she slammed her head against it, groaning. Frustration welled in her chest, spilling over as she replayed the past week in her mind—a series of setbacks and disappointments, one after another. Her recent excursion had been a wash: they'd barely managed to gather any useful resources, and apparently the seeds for the village fields had been taken by a plague before they'd even begun to germinate. She was supposed to bring back more but she had failed. She was also supposed to get cultivation resources but she had barely found any. One of her biggest responsibilities was supposed to have been keeping tabs on the Vampyrs' movements, tracking them quietly, but instead had ended up leading a group of them straight to the village. The lack of shadow cores made things difficult.

She let out a bitter laugh, pushing herself back in her chair. As dawn light filtered in through the small gaps in her cabin's wall, her mind drifted to today's duty—Resin Day. For everyone else, it was a cherished tradition, a sort of village holiday that brought everyone together. But for her, it was another reminder of their dwindling supplies. Every year, they coated the wooden walls of the village with sap from the great resin trees, bolstering their defenses against the destructive meteor storms and the unpredictable fury of fire spirits that roamed the land.

The resin itself was extraordinary, an amber-colored sap that hardened like rock and was almost entirely resistant to flames. Its application protected the village's walls, fortifying the wood that had been imbued with numen from the start. The resin's potency only lasted so long, however. Every year, as soon as the sap began to flow, they gathered as much as they could, and each villager would contribute to the collective effort to help coat the walls. During the night they would eat and play a game to celebrate. But this year, with resources spread thin, they only had enough for a single coating—nowhere near the three layers they typically applied. Hati let out a long, frustrated sigh, rubbing her temples as she thought about the potential damage a bad meteor storm could bring if Fenrir or the Seven Suns weren't on their side this season.

She rolled her shoulders, stretching her stiff muscles like a cat waking from slumber. "I'm leaving, Ma!" she called out, her voice carrying through the small cabin. A low grunt of acknowledgment was her only response, and Hati shook her head with a small smile before stepping outside, into the crisp morning air.

The village was quiet at dawn, with the first traces of sunlight casting a muted glow across the walls. Dew clung to the leaves, and golden aspars drifted lazily on the light breeze, their bioluminescent bodies leaving soft trails of light in the mist. Hati took a deep breath, steeling herself for the day ahead. She would be coating the wall with resin soon, and part of her wondered if she should gather the kids—Surya, Tarak, and maybe Garran(if she could separate him from Lain) or Peter—to help. Resin Day had been her favorite tradition as a child, and she wanted to share that with with Surya and Tarak, though the added responsibilities she had this year had meant she hadn't had the time to even broach it with them.

Just as she started to mull over the plan, her thoughts were interrupted by the sudden shouts of the sentries. She whipped her head toward the gate, eyes narrowing as the heavy wooden doors swung open to reveal a trio trudging back into the village. Her heart gave a small leap of surprise—it was Midea, Surya, and Tarak. The siblings looked a sight; Surya's hair was disheveled, sticking up in odd places, and both she and Tarak were covered in some kind of orange goop and grime. Midea, somehow, had managed to emerge untouched, his face as smug as ever. Hati bit her lip, stifling a laugh, her cheeks bulging from the effort.

As the three neared, she moved closer, her amusement bubbling to the surface. Surya and Tarak's eyes lit up as they recognized her, and she reached out, ruffling their heads, drawing a grunt of protest from Tarak. "What happened to you two, huh?" she teased, her voice filled with genuine warmth as she looked them over.

Midea cleared his throat, his tone as nonchalant as ever. "Oh, we were just out training in the forest. Nothing too serious," he said with a smirk, the casual tone doing little to mask the intensity of their experience.

Before he could elaborate, Tarak's voice cut through with an urgency that surprised her. "Do you have medicine for leeches or anything?" The usually calm, steady boy sounded uncharacteristically anxious.

Her heart skipped a beat, her instincts instantly sharpening. "Leeches?" She grabbed him by the shoulders, her gaze sweeping over his body as she checked for any signs of injury. But she found nothing out of the ordinary, no marks or wounds on his skin. Confused, she looked back at him, only for Surya to step forward, her voice calm but weighted.

"It was me, Hati," she said quietly, extending her arm. "A leech got into my arm before the wound healed over."

Hati's eyes widened, her gaze zeroing in on Surya's arm. She shot a sharp look at Midea, who merely gave a wry smile, hands raised as if to say he was innocent. Hati's grip tightened on Surya's shoulder, a spark of anger kindling in her chest. If Midea had let something hurt Surya—if he'd been careless—she'd make him regret it. But a leech, in her wound? A cold dread settled in her stomach. No. No, it couldn't be.

"What did it look like?" she demanded, her voice tight as she gave Surya a light shake. The girl blinked, surprised at the urgency in her tone. But it was Tarak who answered, his voice low and hesitant.

"It was white… and it had a kind of segmented body."

Hati's blood ran cold, her mind whirling. She felt a shiver ripple through her, and she saw Surya's expression shift as realization began to dawn on her as well. No. Not that. Not a ring infestor.

Without thinking, she turned on Midea, her fists clenching in a fury she hadn't felt in years. Her hand shot out, and Midea barely had time to register the movement before he caught her fist, holding her back with a look of mild surprise.

"HOW DID YOU LET THIS HAPPEN?!" she shouted, her voice cracking with anger and desperation. The usual brightness in her eyes was gone, replaced by something dark and fierce.

Midea held her gaze, his own expression uncharacteristically serious. "Calm down," he said evenly, though she could hear the faint tremor in his voice. "There has to be a cure for it, right? Your village knows these creatures well. There has to be a way."

But her next words seemed to strike him like a physical blow, her voice barely a whisper, raw with helplessness. "There is no cure, Midea. There is no cure at all."

The words hung in the air like a death knell, and Midea's face drained of color, his confident smirk vanishing as he processed the weight of her statement. Around them, the early morning peace of the village seemed to shatter, the quiet now filled with a suffocating tension. The few villagers nearby paused in their work, drawn to the scene unfolding in the square, their faces etched with concern and confusion as they watched Hati, her expression one of despair, clutching Surya as though the girl might slip away at any moment.

The forest loomed in the distance, a silent, brooding presence that seemed to close in on them, its shadows creeping forward as if in mourning. The golden aspars drifted past, casting ghostly glows across their faces, illuminating Hati's stricken features as she gripped Surya's arm, her fingers trembling.

________________

Tanya felt the weight of Hati's words settle over her like a thick shroud. So it was a ring infestor. Her mind clicked through the memories she had, cataloging every detail she knew about them from fragments of stories and what she had learned about the lecture the previous day. The creatures were ruthless parasites that crept through the bloodstream, splitting themselves into tiny, ring-like segments as they grew, each new ring absorbing nutrients before then detaching and moving independently. Those segments would turn into new ring infestors. But they didn't reproduce instantly. If she acted quickly, she might have a chance.

Her eyes flickered with the cold, calculating determination she often used to mask any dread, her mind already forming a plan. If she cut her arm off now, she might avoid the infestor spreading into her entire body. She took a measured breath, tightening her muscles in preparation.

"What… what is a ring infestor?" Tarak's voice broke through her concentration, the worry lacing his words so palpable that she felt a pang of guilt.

Hati glanced over at him, her own face softened with pity as she explained quietly, "A creature that invades the bloodstream and uses the host's own blood and nutrients to split, spreading like wildfire through the body. It eats away at you from the inside out." Her voice dropped to an almost whisper, as if saying it aloud might worsen the situation. "There's… no cure."

She saw Tarak's expression darken, his brows knitting together as he digested the weight of the words. He turned back to Tanya, a haunted look in his eyes. But before he or anyone else could speak further, she raised her voice with clear resolve.

"I'm going to cut my arm off."

The abruptness of her words shattered the tense silence, pulling shocked gasps from both Hati and Tarak. Hati's hand shot out, eyes wide with alarm. "What are you talking about?!"

But Tanya had already begun her preparations, assessing the best angle to take, her gaze steely and unyielding. Her wing tensed, ready to harden into the lethal edge she would use. Considering how dense her body was it would take a few hacks but she had to do it to live. She knew her body well enough by now to understand it wouldn't regenerate something as severe as a missing limb. While she had a healing factor she was fairly certain it wasn't the restore a limb type. Wasn't fast enough it was more likely the wound would seal over. In the end it didn't matter. Pragmatism won out over sentiment, and she steadied her wing for a quick swing, bracing herself for the pain for the incoming pain.

Midea's voice sounded from her side, quieter than usual but without protest. "That may indeed be the only way." His eyes held a flicker of sympathy, but she knew that her death was the worst-case scenario for him. The demon couldn't afford to lose her, and so he accepted her choice without question. It was better than being erased by her angry mother.

She took a steadying breath, trying to ignore the faint, crawling sensation inside her arm, the small yet disturbing movement of the parasite exploring her veins. She could almost feel it seeking out the softest parts of her insides, probing like a hungry specter looking to latch on. But her resolve hardened; she would do what needed to be done.

Just as her wing descended, Tarak's hand shot out, intercepting her strike, and blood splattered from where her sharp feathers sliced into his palm. She recoiled in shock, pulling her wing back as she met his eyes, wide with worry and fierceness. "Tarak, what are you doing?" she shouted, irritation mixing with confusion.

Ignoring his injured hands, he placed them on either side of her face, leaning in close as his eyes bored into hers with uncharacteristic intensity. "Surya, don't do it. Don't cut off your arm. You can conquer this—I know you can. Can't you feel it?" His voice was thick with desperation, but there was something else there, too. A faith in her, an earnest belief she hadn't expected.

For a moment, she paused, uncertain. But something in his gaze made her stop. Slowly, she closed her eyes and stilled her mind, listening to that primal part of her instincts she so often tried to silence. In the background, she heard Hati and Midea's muffled voices, but she let them fade, focusing inward, attuning herself to the sensations of her body. Her skin tingled, and that faint sense of shifting stirred within her again—a sensation she'd felt during their grueling trials, as her body adapted to every obstacle thrown her way.

And there it was. A strange calm settled over her. Her instincts weren't in panic, nor did they signal danger. There was no alarm in her body, no sense of impending death. Instead, it was as though her body regarded the infestor with… indifference, as if it was little more than an inconvenience. She took a deeper breath, listening to that calm resolve within, and felt her body's inner mechanisms shifting in response. They had been provoked as soon as the creature began moving too much.

Inside her arm, the ring infestor writhed as it latched onto the wall of her blood vessel, its tiny teeth scraping against the inner lining in an attempt to secure itself and failing horribly. If Tanya could see into her own body, she would have noticed the strange lattice of crystalline structures interwoven through her bones, supporting a network of veins that spiraled and twisted in complex formations. Her bones were not hollow but instead formed of dense, almost diamond-hard structures that made up a unique system, each vein fortified and pulsing with tiny, bead-like organs acting as miniature hearts, propelling blood with force and precision.

As the infestor dug in, trying to split and spread, it encountered resistance. The strange, mineralized nature of her veins seemed to resist its grip, preventing it from latching on at all. As durable as her skin externally. The blood rushing through her vessels was different too, heavier, harder. The parasite struggled against the weight and density of the blood cells, each one striking it with a force that pained the tiny creature, damaging its body and breaking segments apart. Her body seemed to thrum about it observing the creature in some act of physiological acknowledgement.

But after it figured something out it wasn't merely resistance anymore. There was movement. It methodically repurposed what it observed and in her bones, specialized cells began to gather and clump, merging into small, predatory creatures that moved like white blood cells with intent, racing through her bloodstream with the express purpose of eradicating the intruder. They were larger than any normal blood cell, almost as large as the infestor itself, and they moved with purpose, closing in on their target.

The infestor sensed the threat, writhing as it tried to escape, but the bone-formed cells were faster. They closed in around it, tiny crystalline claws and teeth tearing into its segmented body, ripping it apart ring by ring. The parasite barely had a moment to resist before it was disassembled completely, each part devoured and absorbed back into her bloodstream. Once the job was done, the cells split back into countless smaller parts, returning to their original function, leaving nothing of the intruder behind.

Tanya's eyes fluttered open, a faint, triumphant smile tugging at her lips as she looked at Tarak. She felt the energy enter her body a signifier that she had killed and eaten something. It could only be the infestor. Her expression softened with a gratitude she rarely allowed herself to show. "It's gone. My body… it ate the thing, somehow. You don't have to worry."

Tarak's shoulders slumped in relief, and he let out a shaky breath before pulling her into a tight hug. She allowed herself a brief moment of weakness, resting her forehead against his as he murmured, "I knew you could do it Surya. You are my big sister that I admire so much after all." He said his voice earnest.

Hati's arms wrapped around them both a second later, her fierce grip conveying all the worry she had held back. "You still need to get a checkup," she said, her voice firm yet tinged with softness as she pulled back, her eyes scanning Tanya's face as though to make sure she was truly alright. Tanya gave a small nod, accepting the concern without argument.

Midea let out a long breath, wiping a sheen of sweat from his brow as he broke into a shaky laugh, though his usual cocky tone was noticeably absent. "It would be absurd if one of Lervea's children could be defeated by a bug," he said, the laughter holding a hint of relief. His usual confidence was shaken, but he masked it with a smirk.

Tanya looked at him, exhaustion creeping into her bones. The weight of the morning hung over them all, the fear lingering in the air slowly fading as the tension dissolved. She could see the dawn beginning to break over the village walls, casting golden light across the clearing. It had been a long, hard night, but as she glanced around at the faces of her family, she felt a warmth in her chest, and the first real sense of peace in days.

Yes, she thought, the promise of a better day finally beginning to settle over her. Today would be better indeed.