"Stand."
The word wasn't loud.
It didn't need to be.
Theopard Erdallion stood near the foot of the bed, tall and unmoving, golden eyes fixed on me with the patience of something that didn't have to hurry. Nerissa waited behind him, quiet but sharp. Vira hovered by the door, pale and stiff, hands clasped so hard her fingers looked like they might fuse.
My bandage tugged as I shifted.
Shame tried to climb into my throat.
Then my mind supplied the empty space by the door where Myrina's boots should've been.
And the shame snapped into something else.
A promise.
I'll do it.
So I moved.
Slow.
Careful.
I pressed my palms into the mattress and forced my body to obey. My toes found the cold floor. Pain climbed up my legs like a warning.
I didn't stop.
I swung the other leg down. For a moment I just sat there, both feet planted, shoulders hunched, hands gripping the blanket like it might run away.
No thunder. No punishment.
Just my own breathing—too loud for a room this quiet.
"Good," Erdallion said.
Not praise.
A page turning.
I swallowed, stared at my hands because hands didn't lie as quickly as faces did. They trembled. Not much.
I could do this.
I just had to stand.
I leaned forward and shifted my weight onto my feet—
—and the world changed.
The water stayed perfectly calm, as if it didn't respect the panic climbing my ribs.
The air thickened.
That was the first thing I noticed. My knees buckled instantly.
I barely caught myself, palms slapping the floorboards. The sound cracked through the quiet.
My lungs stalled for one heartbeat—
then rushed back all at once.
I gasped, sharp and ugly, and the pressure increased.
It wasn't a shove.
It wasn't a push.
It was gravity—angry gravity—doubling, tripling, crushing down on my shoulders, spine, ribs, teeth.
My arms shook. My legs shook.
Everything in me screamed down.
I lifted my eyes just enough to check the table again, because my brain needed proof I wasn't losing my mind.
The glass didn't wobble.
The lamp flame didn't flicker.
The water didn't ripple.
The room wasn't being crushed.
Only me.
Vira's voice cracked at the door. "W-what…?"
Nerissa stepped forward, jaw tight. "Sir Erdallion..."
Erdallion didn't look at her.
"Don't interfere," he said.
Nerissa froze mid-step like the air itself had grabbed her shoulders. Her lips parted—argument ready—then shut.
Vira pressed flatter against the wall, making a tiny sound like a swallowed prayer.
I was on all fours now, but not resting—my arms and legs held me like a trembling table. Sweat broke across my forehead and neck and back so fast it felt like someone dumped warm water over me.
My elbows started to bend.
My hands skidded on the floor.
A small sound crawled out of my throat—half grunt, half whimper.
I can't.
The thought flashed—
—and another thought punched it in the face.
Myrina.
Her grin. Her stupid confidence. Her fingertip flicking my forehead like fear was something you could flick away.
Her boots.
Gone.
I swallowed, throat already dry.
I want to be strong.
Not because it sounded heroic.
Because weakness was a cage, and cages didn't survive dungeons.
My face almost hit the floor as the pressure pressed down harder—jaw, tongue, eyelids—like it wanted to flatten me into the boards and leave me there as a warning.
I dug my fingers into the floorboards. Wood bit under my nails.
Pain sparked.
Good.
Pain meant I was still here.
My mind tried to betray me the way it always did, offering neat excuses:
Maybe you're too small.
Maybe you didn't eat enough.
Maybe you're just… you.
My hands shook harder.
Then it clicked.
This wasn't my body failing on its own.
This was a test.
Erdallion wasn't touching me. He wasn't even moving.
But the weight was his.
A power I couldn't name—something that could crush a person without breaking a single glass.
So this is the price.
I'd said I'd pay anything.
Now the world held out its hand, and I was supposed to put my life in it.
My arms started to fail. My knees slid wider. My vision blurred—not from tears, but sweat and pressure pounding my skull.
And then, cruelly, my memory showed me Myrina again—years ago, dragging me out of mud after I fell face-first into a puddle.
If you stay down, you'll drink mud, she'd said. Stand up. Spit it out.
I knew one thing.
I needed to stand.
I growled—ugly, raw—then clenched my fist so hard my nails cut into my palm.
I forced air into my lungs like I was punching through a wall.
Then I screamed. "RRRAAAAAAAAAA!!"
The sound ripped out of me—pity turning into a weapon—and the pressure stabbed down harder, offended that I dared to move.
I lifted one hand.
Just lifted it.
It hovered—shaking violently—then I planted it farther back.
A tiny movement.
But it was mine.
I dragged one knee under me.
The boards creaked.
Nerissa's breathing stayed steady—controlled, furious.
Erdallion's presence pressed on my mind like a mountain watching an ant try to climb it.
I lifted the other hand.
Almost dropped.
Planted it anyway.
My hips rose.
My spine straightened.
Not standing.
Not even close.
But no longer collapsing.
The weight didn't ease. It got worse—like the world said, Oh, you want to fight? Fine. Fight this.
I rose into a crouch, hands hovering near the floor, thighs burning like someone poured fire into them.
I tried to straighten—
—and the pressure slammed down again.
My hands shot out by instinct.
I stopped myself.
No.
If I put my hands down, the floor would win.
The fear would win.
I locked my knees.
My whole body screamed.
My spine trembled. My neck shook.
I forced my chin up anyway.
Then I straightened.
One inch.
Another.
Crooked. Shaking. Sweat pouring.
But I was off the floor.
I was up.
I tightened my fists. Inhaled through pain. Exhaled through stubbornness.
And straightened again.
The room made a sharp sound.
A thud.
The floor dented beneath my feet—not collapsing, just spidering outward in perfect lines as if the boards had turned to clay for a heartbeat and my will stamped into it.
My footprints.
Pressed into wood like proof.
I stood there trembling, lungs burning, fists clenched—
and then—
I looked straight into the guild master's golden eyes.
the pressure vanished.
Not gradually.
Not politely.
Gone.
Like someone lifted a mountain off my spine in one motion.
My body lurched forward, nearly betraying me from the sudden absence. I sucked in air like a drowning person breaking the surface, chest heaving.
The lamp still burned.
The glass still sat calm.
The room looked the same.
Only I felt different.
Erdallion's mouth curved into that almost-smile again.
"Well done," he said.
And the two words hit harder than my scream.