It unlocked on a night Alex didn't feel like training.
That was the cruel part.
He'd taken a contract that day that left him exhausted in a dull, irritating way—too much walking, too many petty threats, too much time spent being "present" without being allowed to act. By the time he returned to his room, his muscles weren't screaming. They were simply tired.
He ate. Cleaned his blade. Sat on the bed and stared at the wall.
The city noise pressed through the floor like a heartbeat.
Alex closed his eyes.
For the first time in weeks, he let his mind drift toward the chains.
Not to pull them.
Just to… feel the shape.
Something shifted.
Not in his body.
In his awareness.
The system spoke.
{Access condition met.}
Alex's eyes opened instantly.
"What condition?"
{Training environment authorization.}
Alex sat up slowly. "You're offering the space again."
{Correction: it was always available. You were not eligible.}
Alex's jaw tightened. "Eligible."
{Yes.}
Chaos stirred, alert now.
(You've crossed a line.)
"I didn't do anything."
(You lived.) Chaos sounded faintly amused. (That counts.)
Alex exhaled slowly.
"What is it?" he asked the system. "And don't give me another half-answer."
A pause.
{Cognitive training domain.}
"A mind-space."
{Yes.}
"And you're just… giving it to me now?"
{No. You earned it.}
Alex frowned. "How?"
{Restraint. Consistency. Adaptive behavior without destabilization.}
Alex let the words sit.
So the system rewarded control. Not output.
That was consistent with everything he'd seen.
"What's the catch?" Alex asked.
{Time dilation variable. Psychological strain possible. Risk increases if abused.}
Alex's mouth twitched. "That's almost honest."
{I am improving.}
Chaos rumbled low.
(It wants you to train with me.)
Alex glanced inward. "Do you?"
(I want you to stop being soft.)
Alex almost laughed. "I'm not soft."
(You are careful.) Chaos' tone sharpened. (Careful is not the same as ready.)
Alex's gaze hardened. "Fine."
He leaned back on the bed and let his breathing slow.
"Activate it," he said.
{Authorization required. Proceed?}
Alex paused.
Not because of fear.
Because words mattered with systems like this.
If he said yes, it would count as consent.
If he hesitated, it would log hesitation.
The system waited, silent and patient.
Chaos waited too.
Alex smiled faintly.
"Proceed," he said.
The world folded.
The room vanished like a bad dream, replaced by black stone beneath his feet and a sky without light. The air tasted like nothing. The silence here was complete—no city noise, no distant voices, no accidental comfort.
Chains stretched across the ground in vast patterns, like veins. They pulsed faintly with a rhythm that matched Alex's heartbeat.
Chaos manifested immediately—massive, coiled, head lowered like a predator studying prey.
(This is where you stop pretending your control is enough,) the dragon said.
Alex drew his blade.
Not his real one—this was the mind-space, and the weapon formed with him, familiar in weight and balance, shaped from memory rather than steel.
He held it steady.
"What are the rules?" Alex asked.
Chaos smiled—if a dragon could smile.
(There are none.)
That was a lie.
Rules always existed.
But Alex understood what Chaos meant: there would be no mercy.
Chaos moved first.
Not with a roar.
With absence.
The dragon's presence shifted and Alex felt pressure slam into him from the side—an impact without a physical body behind it. Alex stumbled, catching himself, feet skidding across black stone.
His instincts screamed to reinforce outward.
He didn't.
He reinforced internally, tightened the loop, anchored breath.
He regained balance.
Chaos struck again—faster.
Alex raised his blade and it met something invisible, sparks flaring briefly in the dark.
His arms jolted.
He felt pain—real pain, but cleaner, contained. Not injury. Feedback.
"You're cheating," Alex said through clenched teeth.
(You're training,) Chaos replied.
Alex moved.
He didn't attack the dragon's body. There was no body to cut. He attacked the pressure points—where the force originated, where intention condensed.
He stepped into the next strike instead of away.
He redirected.
He stole momentum.
For a heartbeat, the pressure faltered.
Chaos laughed.
(Good.)
Then the dragon hit him with something else.
Not force.
Memory.
Cold iron snapped around Alex's wrists—illusion, but perfect. The sensation was so accurate his body reacted as if it were real.
Alex's breath caught.
His mind flickered—
—and the system slammed down.
{Memory quarantine reinforced.}
The chains on the ground flared faintly.
The illusion shattered.
Alex staggered but didn't fall.
He glared upward.
"You used that," he said.
Chaos's eyes glinted. (It's part of you.)
"I didn't consent to it being part of training."
(Consent is a human luxury.)
Alex tightened his grip.
"Then I'll adapt," he said.
Chaos came again.
This time Alex didn't wait.
He stepped forward, blade moving in a tight arc—not a killing strike, but a cut designed to interrupt flow. He aimed at where intention condensed.
The blade met resistance.
For the first time, Chaos's pressure recoiled.
Not injured.
Surprised.
Alex exhaled sharply, and his internal reinforcement shifted into a new loop, tighter, faster. His movements became quieter. Less visible even here.
The system spoke, almost like a whisper.
{Cognitive combat adaptation logged.}{Efficiency improving.}
Alex ignored it.
He fought.
Not to win.
To last longer.
To hold control under conditions designed to break it.
Minutes—or hours—passed. Time didn't behave normally here.
Alex took hits. Fell. Got up. Took more.
Each time, he learned.
Chaos didn't teach with words.
It taught with punishment.
Eventually, Alex stood with blood in his mouth that wasn't blood and pain in his ribs that wasn't injury, and his blade was held steady anyway.
Chaos lowered its head closer.
(You see now?) the dragon asked.
Alex breathed slow. "I see that you're a bastard."
Chaos laughed. (Correct.)
Alex's eyes narrowed. "And I see why you didn't explain."
Chaos's tone shifted—subtle, heavier.
(If you knew what you were becoming, you would rush toward it.)
Alex swallowed. "And rushing gets me killed."
(Yes.)
The system spoke again, formal.
{Training domain unlocked. Continued access available.}
Alex didn't look away from the dragon.
"So this is the next phase," he murmured.
Chaos's eyes burned quietly.
(Not yet.)
Alex's jaw tightened. "Then what was this?"
Chaos's answer was simple.
(A door opening.)
Alex exhaled, and for the first time, he understood what that meant.
In the real world, he could hide in crowds.
In the mind-space, he couldn't hide from himself.
And now that the door was open—
It would not close again.
The system asked one more time, voice calm and patient.
{Proceed with extended training schedule?}
Alex smiled faintly, pain and satisfaction mixing into something sharp.
"Yes," he said. "Proceed."
And the darkness welcomed him like a battlefield that finally recognized his name.