Damien stood in the sparring arena, the faint glow of the rune lamps casting shifting shadows across the walls. His breathing was steady, his eyes fixed on Evraine who stood just a few steps ahead of him, her stance relaxed yet firm, the faint ripple of energy around her body telling him she was completely ready to handle anything he could throw at her. For a moment he hesitated, his body slightly tense, because this was his first real fight against another person and although he had endured pain, trained his body until exhaustion, and constructed countless layers of walls in his Mind Castle, this was different. This was real combat.
Evraine noticed the hesitation in his eyes. She tilted her head slightly, her white hair brushing her shoulders as she spoke in her calm, almost teasing voice.
"Don't hold back, Damien. You won't break me. You wanted to train properly, right? Then show me your full strength. Attack me as if I were your enemy, or you'll never grow."
Her words carried no arrogance, only assurance, and that steadied him. He clenched his fists, tightened his stance, and then lunged forward. His first move was raw, unrefined—he stepped in fast, swinging his leg upward in a powerful front kick aimed at her torso.
Evraine shifted her weight smoothly, raising her forearm in a clean block, her body moving with practiced precision. His kick landed against her arm, the impact sending a dull thud echoing in the room, but she hardly flinched. With her free hand, she snapped forward in a counter-strike, her palm pressing against his chest and shoving him back a few steps. Damien stumbled, teeth gritted, before regaining balance.
Again he charged. This time he aimed a sweeping low kick at her legs, the kind of move meant to destabilize. Evraine, however, bent her knees and hopped lightly, letting the strike pass under her, then spun smoothly to the side, her elbow darting toward his jaw. He barely raised his arm in time to block, the clash stinging his bones, and he staggered again.
"Too stiff," she remarked, her voice calm but sharp. "You're strong, but you're moving like a training dummy. Loosen up."
He growled under his breath, annoyed at himself, and rushed again, throwing a series of punches now—one aimed at her face, the next at her ribs, another trying to feint low before striking high. Yet Evraine moved like water, every motion fluid, her body weaving just out of reach, her arms deflecting the strikes with practiced precision. Finally, she caught his wrist mid-swing and twisted, pulling him forward off-balance before planting her foot against his stomach and pushing him back hard. He fell on his back, coughing from the blow.
Evraine stood tall, her breathing calm, while he lay there catching his breath. She had beaten him effortlessly.
But Damien did not stay down for long. As he sat up, a thought stirred in his mind. Those dreams. The endless nightmares he had suffered since childhood. They were filled with horror, but also with something else—fights. He remembered the last dream completely, watching in vivid detail as figures clashed, warriors and assassins tearing each other apart with fists, blades, and raw power. He had hated those dreams, feared them, but right now… he realized they could serve as his greatest teacher.
He rose again, his face calmer now, eyes sharper. Evraine noticed the shift. He raised his fists once more, but this time when he moved, it was different. His steps were lighter, his body looser. He slid forward and threw a hook that curved at the last moment, his body twisting just enough to generate power without wasting movement. Evraine blocked, but she felt the difference immediately. He was mimicking the fighters he had seen in his nightmares.
She responded in kind, her strikes faster now, but Damien kept adapting. Every punch she threw, he adjusted to it, slowly learning her rhythm. He ducked under one strike and tried to land a jab into her stomach, forcing her to sidestep. Then, when she countered with a kick, he managed to parry it with his shin and pushed forward with a palm strike of his own. She deflected it, but her eyes widened slightly.
His progress was frightening. With every exchange, he grew sharper.
Evraine grinned faintly, exhilarated. "So, you're a fast learner after all."
Their fight became a dance of constant adaptation. Damien struck with raw power but now layered it with skill. Evraine responded by raising her own pace, weaving in more refined techniques. Each time Damien thought he had her cornered, she unleashed something new—an unexpected counter, a sudden shift in stance, a sweep that forced him to backpedal.
It humbled him, but it also excited him.
Soon he was no longer just mimicking what he had seen. Something inside him shifted. He began creating his own rhythm, his own battle style. He stopped thinking about whether his moves were correct and started fighting in a way that felt natural to him. He lunged recklessly at times, putting himself at risk, but it gave him openings. He twisted mid-air to dodge a strike, spinning into a counter-kick that nearly clipped her chin. He absorbed her blows with his hardened body and pushed forward with dangerous abandon.
And for the first time, Damien felt… joy.
He was smiling. A genuine, unrestrained smile stretched across his face as he fought, as if the thrill of putting his life on the line filled a void inside him. He laughed once, almost breathlessly, as he narrowly avoided a counter-punch and came back with his own.
Evraine froze for half a second when she saw that smile. She had never seen him smile before, not once. It wasn't mocking, nor hollow—it was pure exhilaration, and it made her chest tighten in a way she couldn't explain. In that moment, her concentration wavered.
Damien noticed. He lunged, grabbing her arm and twisting, pulling her forward. He grappled her waist and tried to push her down. Evraine's instincts kicked in, and she countered by grabbing his shoulders, the two of them struggling in close proximity. Their combined momentum toppled them both, and with a thud, they crashed to the floor.
When the dust settled, Evraine found herself on top of him, her palms pressing against his chest, her long white hair falling forward and brushing against his cheek. Their eyes locked, her white ones wide with shock and his dark ones staring back with something complex, something unreadable.
Damien's breathing was ragged, his chest rising and falling beneath her hands. For a moment neither of them moved. Evraine's face flushed, heat spreading across her skin, and she instinctively tried to push herself up. But Damien's hands lifted, gently holding her waist, stopping her.
"Stay… like this," he whispered, his voice low but steady. "Just for a while. It feels… comfortable."
Her entire body stiffened. His words were so simple, so unguarded, and yet they made her heart pound in her chest. Her eyes stung with sudden heat, almost like tears, and she could barely find her voice. She wanted to scold him, to push him off, to tell him how inappropriate this was. But when she opened her mouth, nothing came out. Because she could feel it—through her ability, she could sense the emotions radiating from him. There was no lust, no hidden desire. Only sincerity. Comfort. Vulnerability.
And that made it worse for her. Worse, because she realized she was helplessly drawn to it.
The boy who should have been broken and cold was instead so brutally honest, so unconcerned with her noble background, so willing to just say what he felt. It was disarming in a way she had never known. Nobles she grew up around were always scheming, always calculating, always trying to gain something. But Damien… he was just Damien.
Before she could sort her thoughts, something else happened.
Damien's body began to glow faintly. A soft, ethereal light radiated from him, wrapping around his form. He stiffened, surprised, as the warmth spread through his veins. Inside, his soul stirred violently. The final crack in his soul orb pulsed, and then began to heal, threads of light weaving it back together. His Mind Castle shook, its walls suddenly thickening and solidifying, becoming firm and whole for the first time. His body too felt alive with power, surging with newfound vitality.
He gasped softly as he realized what was happening. It was a breakthrough.
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[PATH SYSTEM]
Host: Damien
Current Stage: Rank 1 (100%)
Primary Path: Strength — Body Evolution
Secondary Path: Soul (Rank 0 → Rank 1 (33%))
Core Attributes:
Might: 100
Endurance: 100
Speed: 100
Vitality: 100
Aura Control: 10%
Body Control: 70%
Spells: —
Passive: Mind Castle (10%)
Active: —
Body Arts: —
Weapon Arts: —
....
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The glow faded slowly. Damien's breathing steadied, his face calm now but touched with awe. He loosened his hold on her waist, his expression conflicted, as if unsure of what he should say.
Evraine, cheeks burning, quickly tried to shift away, but his voice stopped her again.
"Senior...Evraine… could you… stay with me?" His tone was quiet, hesitant. "I need to go through my memories. My birth… and the massacre. I don't want to face them alone."
Her heart clenched. For the first time she saw fear etched across his emotions, fear and vulnerability mixed with the courage he always wore like armor. He had hidden it from the world, hidden it even from his face, but not from her. Not from her gift. And he said her name for the first time!
She softened, her white eyes warm as she reached down and took his hand in hers.
"Alright," she whispered gently, smiling at him despite her own racing heart. "I'll stay with you. You don't have to face it alone."
In that moment, she no longer minded their closeness, no longer cared for propriety. She only saw him for what he was—scarred, haunted, in need of love, and yet unyieldingly honest. And she realized with startling clarity that she was being pulled toward him, more and more, no matter how much she tried to resist.