Six months.

To the outside world, six months was just a changing of seasons. The snow melted, the flowers bloomed, and the wars in the Human Empire ground to a bloody stalemate.

But in the Sacred Grove of the World Tree, six months was a lifetime.

Under the crushing pressure of the ancient mana density, weak bodies were broken and rebuilt. Naivety was sweated out. Fear was burned away.

And today, the training ended.

.................

[The Sacred Grove - Central Clearing]

"Are you ready, Nephew?"

Queen Aelinor stood in the center of the clearing. She wasn't wearing her royal robes. She wore a simple, tight-fitting combat suit made of woven spider-silk. Her hands were empty, but her presence filled the entire forest.

She looked at the young man standing opposite her.

Damien had changed.

At twelve-and-a-half years old, he stood six feet tall. His baby fat was completely gone, replaced by lean, corded muscle that looked like it was carved from marble.

His silver hair was tied back in a high ponytail, revealing a face that had lost its softness. His blue eyes were calm, deep as an ocean.

He didn't hold a sword. He didn't wear armor. He just stood there, hands in his pockets.

"I've been ready for a month, Auntie," Damien said, his voice deeper than before. "You're the one who kept delaying the test."

"Arrogance," Aelinor smirked. "Let's see if you can back it up."

She raised a hand.

"The rules are the same as the first day. I won't use my Domain. I won't use 7th-Order spells. I will restrict myself to Peak 4th Order physical stats."

She pointed a finger at him.

"Land one hit on me. A scratch. A bruise. Even a touch on my clothes. If you do that, you graduate. If you fail... You stay another six months."

"Deal," Damien said.

BOOM!

Not casting a spell. He simply kicked off the ground.

But this wasn't the clumsy, rocket-like launch from six months ago.

The ground didn't crack. There was no wasted energy. He simply vanished, moving with such terrifying efficiency that he left an afterimage.

Aelinor's eyes widened slightly. 'Fast.'

She sidestepped. A fist wreathed in Golden Aura occupied the space where her head had been a millisecond ago.

"Too slow," she taunted, grabbing his wrist to throw him.

But Damien didn't resist the throw. He pivoted with it.

"Shadow Step."

He didn't teleport away. He teleported two inches to the left, just enough to slip out of her grip.

"Gravity... Bind."

Isabelle's voice rang out from the sidelines.

A sudden, heavy pressure slammed onto Aelinor's shoulders. It wasn't enough to stop a 7th Order, but it was enough to make her pause for a fraction of a second.

Twang.

A silent, invisible arrow hissed past Aelinor's ear, cutting a lock of her hair. Lyra, hidden in the canopy, had fired a Phantom Arrow without making a sound.

"Cheeky," Aelinor laughed, spinning to deflect the arrow with her bare hand. "Using your teammates? I thought this was a duel."

"Hey, you never said help wasn't allowed" Damien's voice came from below her. "After all, all's fair in love and war."

Yes, for this final battle, Damien had decided to cheat! Just kidding, how could it be possible for him to defeat someone like that?

Even if she suppressed her mana, he couldn't beat her in six months. Thankfully, hearing him say this, she didn't refute, but steadily looked around.

and as if sensing something indeed, a smile appeared at the corner of her mouth

"Haa!"

Leona burst out of the bushes, roaring, her Beast Gauntlets glowing red. She slammed the ground, creating a shockwave that forced Aelinor into the air.

Aelinor floated, looking down at them. "Impressive coordination. But not enough."

She waved her hand. Vines shot from the trees, restraining Leona and blocking Isabelle's line of sight.

"You're wide open, Damien!"

She dove at him, preparing to flick his forehead and end the match.

Damien looked up. He wasn't panicking. He was smiling.

'Six months of hell. Six months of breaking my bones and knitting them back together with Life Mana. Six months of surpassing my limits!'

"System, monitor my vitals!" Damien whispered, his eyes turning dangerous. "Overclock."

[Warning: Dual-Core Output at 200%. Physique Durability: Sufficient.]

WHOOSH.

Damien didn't block. He opened his arms.

Left Side: An abyssal black hole that seemed to devour the light. Right Side: A blinding golden sun that burned the air.

He slammed his hands together.

"Dual-Secret Art: Eclipse Flash."

What happened next was a blinding, deafening explosion of pure sensory overload. The light blinded Aelinor's eyes; the shadow blinded her mana sense.

For 0.1 seconds, the Queen of Elves was blind.

That was all he needed.

However, he neither attacked her nor tried to punch her.

He simply Shadow Stepped directly into her personal space.

Tap.

Aelinor felt a finger touch her forehead.

The light faded. The dust settled.

Damien was standing in front of her, his finger resting gently between her eyebrows.

His chest was heaving, steam rising from his skin as his "Celestial life Physique" vented the excess heat.

"Boop," Damien whispered.

Silence filled the clearing.

Isabelle, Leona, and Lyra held their breath.

Aelinor blinked. She looked at Damien's finger. She looked at his exhausted but triumphant smile.

Then, she laughed. A loud, genuine laugh that sounded like wind chimes.

"You little brat," she said, ruffling his hair, messing up his cool ponytail. "You blinded me."

"I used the tools available," Damien shrugged, retracting his hand. "You said 'Land a hit.' You didn't say I had to fight fair."

"Fairness is for corpses," Aelinor nodded, her expression turning proud.

"Theron would be proud. You fight just like him. Dirty, smart, and overwhelmingly flashy."

She stepped back and looked at the team.

Isabelle, whose flames were now a controlled, hungry blue.

Lyra, whose presence was almost entirely erased from the mana spectrum.

Leona, who stood calmly despite the massive aura she was suppressing.

And Damien, the Dual-Core monster who led them.

"You pass," Queen Aelinor announced. "The training is over."

She waved her hand, and a floating tray with four glasses of nectar appeared.

"Drink. Tonight we celebrate. Tomorrow... you leave the forest."

Damien took a glass. He looked South, toward the Human Empire, toward the Dwarven Mountains, toward the unknown fate of his parents.

The playfulness vanished from his eyes, replaced by the cold resolve of the Greedy King.

"Tomorrow," Damien agreed. "We continue our journey!"

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