The laughter coiled through his consciousness like smoke threading through still air, carrying weight that had nothing to do with volume and everything to do with presence. Raze felt it more than heard it, the sound existing in that strange space between thought and sensation where normal sensory categories broke down entirely.

His meditation wasn't voluntary anymore. The pull happened with inexorable certainty, like gravity asserting itself on a falling object. The room around him, solid and real just moments ago, began losing definition at the edges. The weight of his body against the floor became abstract, theoretical, a distant fact disconnected from immediate experience.

'Here we go again,' Raze thought, recognizing the familiar sensation of being drawn inward. His breathing maintained its controlled rhythm even as awareness detached from the physical anchor that breathing usually provided. In, out, steady pattern continuing automatically while his consciousness sank through layers of self that most people never knew existed.

The transition stretched and compressed simultaneously, taking both forever and no time at all. Reality folded in on itself like paper being crumpled, and when it smoothed out again, he stood somewhere else entirely.

The mind space spread before him in all its impossible vastness. Calling it darkness would be inaccurate because darkness implied absence of light, and this was something more fundamental than that. The void here was primordial, the kind of emptiness that might have existed before creation decided to complicate things with matter and energy and physical laws.

Stars drifted through that emptiness like luminescent jellyfish swimming through the deep ocean. They pulsed with rhythms that seemed almost biological, expanding and contracting as though breathing. Their light didn't really illuminate anything, just created pockets of lesser darkness that somehow made the surrounding void feel even more profound by contrast.

No ground existed beneath Raze's feet, yet he stood solid on nothing. The paradox should have been disorienting, probably would have been for anyone experiencing it the first time, but he'd been here enough now that his mind accepted the contradiction without protest. Physics was negotiable in this place. Reality bent around consciousness rather than the other way around.

Asura waited twenty paces ahead, though distance was another negotiable concept here. The entity could probably be right in Raze's face or half a mile away with equal ease, space responding to intention rather than following rigid geometrical rules.

Looking at the ancient being was always strange. Like staring into a mirror that showed something adjacent to truth rather than truth itself. Asura wore his face but transformed, elevated, corrupted depending on how you wanted to frame it. The bone structure was identical, the proportions matching perfectly, but the details carried weight that Raze's own features lacked.

Black markings traced patterns across skin that seemed to shift when viewed peripherally. Not moving exactly, but suggesting movement, hinting at complexity that direct observation couldn't quite capture. The designs looked almost tribal, almost ceremonial, almost like scarification from cultures that didn't exist anymore, if they ever had.

Hair white as Raze's own cascaded down to frame features that were simultaneously familiar and alien. But where Raze's hair remained uniformly pale, Asura's carried crimson tips that glowed faintly in the void's ambient non-light. The effect was unsettling, beautiful in the way that poisonous creatures are beautiful, marking danger through aesthetic appeal.

The eyes were worst. Should have been blue, would have been blue on Raze's face, but blazed crimson instead with intensity that suggested looking into them too long might reveal truths better left undiscovered. They carried depths that had nothing to do with physical structure and everything to do with accumulated experience spanning timeframes that made mortal comprehension seem quaint.

'That's what I'd look like if everything awakened fully,' Raze thought, studying the entity before him. 'If the bloodline completed its transformation and the merger became permanent rather than temporary. That's the end state waiting if I keep walking this path.'

The prospect was equal parts terrifying and compelling. Power beyond normal limitations, yes, but at what cost? How much of himself would remain if that transformation was completed? Would he be Raze wearing Asura's power, or Asura wearing Raze's memories?

Questions for another time. Right now, the ancient being was watching him with an expression that suggested amusement mixed with expectation, clearly waiting for a response to the question he'd posed twice now.

"Did you miss me, successor?"

Raze's face settled into familiar neutrality, the poker face that had become default response to virtually everything since his reincarnation. Emotions existed beneath that mask, thoughts and reactions and feelings that were genuine and complex, but exposing them served no tactical purpose. Better to project nothing, force others to guess, maintain mystery that prevented people from developing accurate read on his intentions or vulnerabilities.

He stared at Asura without speaking, expression blank as fresh parchment.

The being's amusement flickered. Crimson eyes narrowed slightly, confusion beginning to creep around the edges of that insufferable confidence Asura typically projected. Seconds ticked past in silence that grew increasingly awkward, at least for one of them.

"Oh, so we're doing this?" Asura's tone shifted, irritation bleeding through. "After everything I've done for you? The power I've shared, the training I've provided, the very survival I've enabled during that fight with the Sovereign rank assassin, and this is how you greet me? Silence? Really?"

Raze maintained his poker face, offering no reaction whatsoever. The silence stretched further, becoming oppressive in ways that probably weren't possible in normal conversation but worked perfectly fine in a mental construct where reality bent to psychological pressure.

Asura's composure, legendary self-control forged through millennia of existence and conflict with divine powers, cracked like cheap pottery dropped on stone.

"I am an ancient entity who transcended divine limitations!" The being's voice rose several octaves, losing all pretense of dignity as frustration overwhelmed restraint. "I fought pantheons and won! I was sealed by multiple gods working together because I represented an existential threat to their authority over mortal affairs! And you're standing there ignoring me like I'm some common spirit barely worth acknowledgment?"

Still nothing. Raze's expression remained perfectly neutral, eyes fixed on the ancient being without shift in intensity or interest. The poker face was bulletproof at this point, forged through months of navigating situations where showing emotion would have been a fatal mistake.

That did it completely.

Asura lost it spectacularly, throwing his hands up in exasperation that would have been comical if it wasn't coming from an entity claiming to have battled gods. "This is ridiculous! Absolutely ridiculous! You can't just stand there saying nothing! I'm interesting! I'm important! I deserve attention and respect and basic conversational courtesy at minimum!"

The tantrum escalated from there. The ancient being actually stomped feet that touched nothing, pacing back and forth through the void while ranting about inadequate appreciation and insufficient recognition of his contributions to Raze's continued survival. His voice reached volumes that probably would have caused permanent hearing damage if this exchange was happening in physical reality rather than purely mental space.

'This is the entity that claims to have fought gods,' Raze thought, watching the display with internal amusement he carefully kept off his face. 'This cosmic horror that supposedly transcended divine authority and threatened pantheons is currently throwing a tantrum like a child who didn't get dessert. The disconnect is almost beautiful.'

He let the silence extend another solid ten seconds, watching Asura work himself into increasingly theatrical displays of outrage, before finally speaking in a tone so casual it bordered on dismissive.

"Why were you quiet?"

The question landed like a physical blow. Asura's rant cut off mid-sentence, the being freezing in place with mouth still open around words that suddenly had nowhere to go. His expression cycled through confusion, comprehension, embarrassment, and defensive anger in rapid succession before settling on something that tried very hard to look composed and mostly failed.

"What?" Asura asked, completely thrown off balance by the conversational pivot.

"You've been dormant since I arrived at the Academy," Raze continued, maintaining that same casual tone that suggested mild curiosity rather than accusation. "Not a word or even a whisper, complete silence for multiple days. So I'm asking a simple question. Why were you quiet? Was there a specific reason? Did something require your attention elsewhere? Or did you just not feel like talking?"

The gaslighting was surgical in its precision. Take the being's complaint, reverse the dynamic entirely, make it about Asura's behavior rather than Raze's response, force justification for silence that hadn't bothered anyone until the ancient entity decided to make an issue of not receiving immediate enthusiastic greeting.

'Beautiful,' Raze thought, watching confusion play across features identical to his own. 'Turn it around, make him defend his choices, and suddenly the accusation loses all its weight because now he's the one being questioned.'

Asura stared at him for a long moment, crimson eyes narrowing as the entity clearly recognized the manipulation but struggled to find a counter that wouldn't make him look even more foolish than the tantrum already had. The being's jaw worked silently, opening and closing several times without producing actual words.

Finally, Asura huffed dramatically, crossing his arms with motion that tried desperately to reclaim some shred of dignity. "I was quiet because nothing at this Academy deserved my attention."

The response came out petulant, defensive, obviously manufactured after the fact rather than representing genuine reasoning. It was the kind of excuse someone created when caught without a good answer but refusing to admit they simply hadn't thought about it until being questioned.

Raze scoffed before he could stop himself. The sound emerged sharp and dismissive, genuine amusement breaking through his poker face for just an instant before control reasserted itself. But that instant was enough. Asura's eyes went dangerously narrow, crimson deepening toward something approaching actual anger rather than theatrical irritation.

"You doubt me?" The being's voice dropped lower, carrying an edge that suggested they were approaching territory where ancient cosmic entities stopped playing games and started demonstrating exactly why pantheons had needed multiple gods working together to seal him.

"You're clearly making excuses," Raze replied, letting skepticism color his words without quite crossing into outright accusation. The line between challenging and insulting was razor thin here, and he walked it carefully. "Acting like a big baby because I didn't immediately jump to attention the moment you decided to grace me with your presence again after days of voluntary silence."

"I am not acting like a baby!" Asura protested, which only reinforced the impression through the defensive whining tone that accompanied it. The ancient entity's composure, already damaged by the earlier tantrum, took another hit from the obvious childishness of the response.

"Sure," Raze said, voice flat with disbelief. "An ancient cosmic entity who transcended divine limitations and fought pantheons definitely throws tantrums about being ignored. That's completely normal behavior for someone of your supposed stature and accumulated wisdom."

Asura's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again without words emerging. The being was clearly struggling to find a response that wouldn't further undermine his already damaged position, caught between defending his tantrum and admitting it had been ridiculous.

'He's actually speechless,' Raze observed with internal satisfaction. 'Istea's strongest mortal, sealed by gods, reduced to stammering silence by basic conversational reversal. This is genuinely entertaining.'

Finally, Asura settled on changing the subject entirely rather than continuing down the conversational path that only made him look worse. His expression shifted, irritation fading into something approaching his usual confidence, though cracks remained visible around the edges.

"Fine," Asura said, tone attempting composure with mixed success. "You want to know why nothing here deserved my attention? Because the power level at this Academy is pathetically low compared to what you and I together represent."

Raze's eyebrow rose fractionally, a minimal expression that nonetheless conveyed an invitation to continue. The gesture was calculated, allowing Asura to feel like he was regaining control of the conversation while actually just following where Raze had steered things.

"The highest rank here is Paragon," Asura explained, voice taking on lecturing quality that suggested he was more comfortable in instructional mode than emotional mode. "The Headmaster. She's the only human at that level in the current world. Impressive by mortal standards, certainly. Remarkable achievement given this era's degraded cultivation methods and reduced ambient mana. But still fundamentally limited compared to what we're capable of when properly merged."

That information aligned with what Raze already knew from his transmigrator knowledge of the game. Sariah was legendary, the absolute peak of human cultivation achievement in Records of Istea's current timeline. Someone who'd broken through barriers that stopped ninety-nine point nine percent of all warriors from ever reaching their full potential. The kind of cultivator whose mere existence reshaped political landscapes because everyone knew she could probably solo entire kingdoms if sufficiently motivated.

'Only human at Paragon rank in the entire world,' Raze thought, processing the implications. 'That's not just impressive, that's functionally unique. And Asura's claiming we could beat her together. Either he's delusional about our merged capabilities, or the combination of my bloodline and his authority power really does transcend normal cultivation hierarchies that dramatically.'

"The Deans are all Grandmaster rank," Asura continued, apparently warming to his subject now that he'd escaped the embarrassing territory of his tantrum. "Various levels within that tier. Some stronger than others, natural variation in talent and resources and dedication producing different outcomes. But none of them approaching Paragon. Not even close. They're competent instructors for teaching mundane techniques to children, perhaps. Utterly irrelevant as opponents or threats to someone operating at our level."

Raze remained silent, letting the ancient entity monologue. Sometimes the best way to extract information was just shutting up and letting people talk until they revealed more than they'd intended.

"Together," Asura said, crimson eyes blazing with conviction that seemed genuinely unshakeable, "you and I could solo everyone at this Academy. Every student, regardless of talent or background. Every instructor, regardless of experience. Every Dean, despite their Grandmaster cultivation. Even the Headmaster herself would fall if we fought seriously with full merger active and the bloodline awakened to its current seal level."

The claim wasn't simple bragging, at least not entirely. Raze had experienced the merged state's capabilities during the fight with the Sovereign rank assassin in Clearwater. The way normal limitations had seemed to dissolve, how techniques that should have been beyond Master Low rank flowed naturally, the sensation of fighting with instincts and knowledge that weren't entirely his own but responded to his will perfectly.

'Master Low rank in technical classification,' Raze thought, remembering how that fight had felt. 'But fighting with capabilities that completely defied that designation. Moving faster than I should have been able to, hitting harder than my cultivation supported, surviving damage that should have been crippling. The merger doesn't just add power. It multiplies existing capability through synergy that transcends normal mathematical scaling.'

"The only rank that would prove genuinely challenging," Asura continued, voice carrying certainty born from actual experience rather than theoretical speculation, "is Transcendent. And there are no Transcendent cultivators at this Academy. Probably no Transcendent cultivators in the entire human domain currently, if my assessment of this era's overall power degradation is accurate."

Raze filed that information away carefully. Transcendent rank existed beyond Paragon in the cultivation hierarchy, representing advancement so extreme it bordered on ascending beyond mortality entirely. The game had mentioned it in lore entries and historical records, but no Transcendent characters had ever appeared during the actual playable storyline. Whether that was because they didn't exist anymore or because they'd transcended mortal concerns entirely remained ambiguous.

"So when you ask why I was quiet," Asura said, bringing the conversation full circle with a tone suggesting this should explain everything, "it's because observing Grandmasters train children in basic techniques holds zero interest for me. I've seen civilizations rise and fall across millennia. I've fought beings that make your Headmaster look like a talented apprentice playing at power. Watching entrance examinations and horde defenses is beneath my attention, frankly. It's like asking a master artisan to watch kindergarten finger painting exercises. Technically painting, yes, but not remotely engaging for someone operating at my level."

The explanation at least made internal sense, even if the initial tantrum about being ignored remained ridiculous. Asura had been genuinely bored watching Academy activities that seemed momentous to students but were apparently remedial from his perspective.

"Our training will continue now," Asura declared, tone shifting from explanatory toward command. "You've had your rest period. You've processed the day's events. You've centered your mind through meditation. Time to push your capabilities further."

Raze settled into a combat stance without arguing the point. Training with Asura was brutal in ways that left him mentally and physically exhausted, but the results spoke for themselves. His performance during the entrance examination, the beast horde defense, even the way he'd killed that Grandmaster rank creature, all of it traced back to endless hours spent in this void having his technique refined through relentless pressure.

Asura moved first, closing distance with speed that defied visual tracking even in mental space where physics was negotiable. His strike came from an unexpected angle, forcing Raze to trigger Void Step purely on trained reflex to avoid being hit.

"Better," Asura commented, already pivoting smoothly to follow the dodge. "Your reaction time is improving consistently. Stimulus to response delay has dropped significantly since we started these sessions. But you're still telegraphing intention through body positioning. Shoulders tense fractionally before you commit to movement. Control that. Make your body a liar about your actual plans."

The criticism was clinical, detached, the kind of analysis that came from observing countless fighters across impossible timeframes. Asura fought defensively during these training sessions, not trying to win or dominate but rather creating controlled pressure that forced specific responses he could then correct.

Raze struck at what looked like an opening in the being's guard, only to find Asura had already shifted. The gap closed before his blade could arrive, and the counter came immediately from an angle he hadn't anticipated. Another Void Step to create distance, another small correction to positioning as he landed.

'This is why the training works,' Raze thought, falling into the familiar rhythm of strike and counter and adjustment. 'He's not teaching through explanation. He's teaching through correction. Making my body learn optimal patterns through repetition until they become automatic reflex rather than conscious choice.'

"Your combat at the Academy entrance examination," Asura said while maintaining offensive pressure that never quite let Raze settle into a comfortable rhythm, "was acceptable overall but rough around the edges. Too much reliance on raw capability, not enough efficiency in application. You won through superior power rather than superior technique, which works fine when you're stronger than opponents but fails catastrophically when you're not."

Another strike. Another dodge. The pattern repeated endlessly, each exchange forcing Raze to refine responses incrementally. His blade work gradually becoming cleaner as small corrections accumulated into noticeable improvement.

"The beast horde defense showed marked improvement over the entrance exam," Asura continued, apparently able to maintain detailed critique while simultaneously executing complex combat sequences. "More controlled overall. Better positioning that minimized wasted movement. Cleaner strikes that accomplished objectives with less energy expenditure. But still wasteful in places. Still moments where you expended substantially more effort than necessary to achieve functionally identical results."

The criticism was accurate, painfully so. Raze had noticed those inefficiencies himself during the actual fights but hadn't known how to correct them in the moment. Combat happened too quickly for conscious analysis when survival demanded immediate action based on instinct and training rather than deliberate thought.

"That's precisely what this training addresses," Asura explained, reading his thoughts with ease that came from literally sharing consciousness. "Building instinctive efficiency so technique becomes an automatic response pattern rather than requiring deliberate consideration. Your body learns optimal sequences through repetition. Neural pathways strengthen with practice. Eventually the correct response emerges naturally during actual combat without you needing to think about it consciously."

The defensive style made perfect sense in that context. Asura wasn't trying to defeat him or prove superiority. The ancient being was creating controlled pressure that forced specific responses, then correcting those responses when they contained flaws or inefficiencies that would prove costly against serious opponents.

Time became meaningless in the mind space. Minutes felt like hours. Hours compressed into minutes. The normal relationship between subjective experience and objective duration dissolved entirely, leaving only the endless cycle of strike and counter and correction.

Raze's strikes gradually became cleaner. His positioning tightened incrementally. Energy expenditure decreased as technique refined. The improvements were small individually, barely noticeable from one exchange to the next, but the cumulative effect over extended session was substantial.

"The fight you displayed today," Asura said during a brief pause where they both reset to starting positions, "that was entirely your effort. Not our merger, not my direct intervention during combat. Pure product of your own training and bloodline capabilities working in concert with technique I've helped you develop."

Raze processed that information while catching his breath, or the mental space equivalent of catching breath since physical breathing wasn't really relevant here. He'd wondered how much of his performance had been Asura's influence operating beneath conscious awareness versus his own genuine development. Apparently the answer was straightforward: the ancient being provided instruction and correction during training, but actual execution during real combat was entirely Raze's responsibility.

'So everything I did today was actually me,' he thought, feeling a strange mixture of pride and concern. 'The systematic slaughter of the horde, the Grandmaster kill, all of it was my capability rather than borrowed power. That's reassuring in some ways, terrifying in others. Means I've actually grown this strong through training rather than just riding Asura's coattails. But it also means I can't blame the disappointing performance on him not helping enough.'

"The merger remains available when needed," Asura continued, apparently deciding this was a good moment for strategic overview rather than immediate resumed training. "Full transformation with markings manifesting visibly, crimson eye replacing blue, complete integration of my consciousness with yours creating a unified combat entity. That grants capabilities substantially beyond what you can currently access independently. Power that transcends normal cultivation limitations entirely."

The being's expression grew more serious, crimson eyes carrying the weight of genuine concern rather than theatrical emotion.

"But it's also visible. Obvious to anyone paying attention. Revealing in ways that make it unsuitable for public examinations or situations requiring discretion. The physical transformation alone would raise questions you're not prepared to answer. Add the combat capabilities that clearly exceed Master Low rank designation, and you'd have every powerful entity at this Academy demanding explanations you can't provide without revealing things that would endanger us both."

"So I need to get stronger without relying on a merger," Raze concluded, understanding the implications clearly. "Build capability through bloodline and training that I can use publicly without raising suspicions about manic possession or hidden power sources."

"Exactly." Asura's crimson eyes showed approval at the quick comprehension. "The bloodline alone provides substantial advantages even without my influence. Enhanced physical capabilities, bloodline skills like Sovereign's Gaze that operate on a different hierarchy than normal cultivation. Your training amplifies those natural advantages into something genuinely formidable through technical refinement and tactical awareness."

The ancient being gestured broadly at the void surrounding them.

"The merger is a reserve option for threats that exceed what bloodline and training can handle independently. Emergency measure when survival requires capabilities beyond your normal operating range. But relying on it regularly would be mistake tactically and developmentally. You need to grow your base capability, not become dependent on borrowed power that might not always be accessible."

They resumed combat before Raze could respond. Asura's defensive pressure intensified noticeably, forcing adaptation to increasingly complex attack patterns that required split-second decisions about optimal response methods.

"Your expression serves you remarkably well," Asura commented while deflecting a strike that nearly connected through his guard. "Maintaining emotional control prevents opponents from reading intention or exploiting psychological vulnerabilities. Very useful against intelligent adversaries who rely on reading body language and facial expression to predict actions."

Raze's blade came within centimeters of Asura's throat before the being twisted away with minimal movement that suggested the near-miss was entirely intentional.

"But don't let it become a crutch that prevents genuine emotional processing," Asura continued, apparently able to deliver psychological advice while simultaneously executing complex defensive sequences. "Suppression isn't the same as control, and confusion between those concepts destroys people eventually."

"Meaning?" Raze asked, genuinely curious despite being engaged in combat that required most of his attention.

"Meaning you can maintain neutral expression while still experiencing a full range of emotional response internally," Asura explained, crimson eyes meeting his briefly during the exchange. "You don't have to show anger to feel it. Don't have to display fear to experience it. Don't have to project joy to know it exists."

The being's next strike came faster than previous attacks, forcing Raze to trigger Void Step with barely any reaction time buffer.

"Denying feelings entirely creates internal pressure that builds until it erupts destructively," Asura continued once Raze had repositioned. "Seen it countless times across millennia. Warriors who prided themselves on emotional control suddenly snapping under stress because they'd been suppressing rather than processing. Channeling emotions is different from denying them. Use them as fuel for determination without letting them cloud judgment or compromise tactical decision-making."

The advice was surprisingly nuanced coming from an entity that spent half their conversations acting like a petulant child. But then, Asura was ancient beyond mortal comprehension. Probably had observed enough human psychology across impossible timeframes to understand it better than most actual humans ever would.

'He has a point though,' Raze admitted internally while continuing the exchange of strikes and counters. 'I've been so focused on maintaining my poker face externally that I haven't really thought about whether I'm processing emotions internally or just bottling them up. The difference between those approaches might seem subtle but the consequences are probably substantial over time.'

More exchanges. More corrections. More incremental refinements as small flaws got identified and addressed through repetitive practice. Raze's body moved through increasingly complex sequences, muscle memory building pathways that would serve him during actual combat when conscious thought was too slow for survival.

The session stretched on. Subjective hours in the mind space while external time crawled forward more slowly. His technique gradually approached something resembling polished competence rather than rough effectiveness. The improvement was visible even to him, noticeable difference between how he'd been moving at session start versus current capability.

"Enough," Asura finally declared, stepping back with a gesture that clearly signaled the training's conclusion. "We're approaching diminishing returns now. Further practice tonight would just ingrain bad habits from accumulated fatigue rather than refining good technique."

Raze lowered his blade, breathing controlled despite extended mental exertion. In the mind space, physical exhaustion manifested differently than real combat, but the mental fatigue was absolutely genuine and cumulative. Push too hard here and he'd wake up more exhausted than rested, defeating the entire purpose.

"Two hours of external time have passed," Asura informed him, apparently able to track physical reality's temporal flow even while existing entirely within mental construct. "Substantially longer here due to accelerated flow we've established in mind space. But your physical body has limitations even during meditation. Push beyond them and you'll wake up wrecked rather than recovered."

Raze nodded understanding. The time dilation was incredibly useful for extending training sessions beyond what physical reality would normally allow, but it wasn't an unlimited resource. Eventually physical constraints imposed boundaries that mental training couldn't circumvent regardless of temporal manipulation.

"Go," Asura said, waving dismissal with theatrical flourish. "Rest properly. Tomorrow you're training your kingdom members, and that will require different energy than personal combat development. Managing twenty-nine people's individual growth simultaneously while maintaining tactical overview demands sustained attention you won't have if you're exhausted from overtraining tonight."

The mind space began dissolving around them, stars fading like candles being extinguished one by one. Asura's form became translucent, features losing definition as the connection between them weakened. The void itself seemed to thin, reality bleeding through cracks that widened steadily.

"And successor?" The being's final words reached him just before full separation occurred, voice distant but still clearly audible. "Your performance today was genuinely impressive. For a mortal still learning to wield power he barely understands, you exceeded my expectations considerably. Keep developing like this and you'll be genuinely formidable even without merger assistance."

Then Raze was back in his room, meditation posture maintained but awareness returning rapidly to the physical body and immediate surroundings. The transition was smoother than previous times, less jarring dislocation and more gradual reintegration of consciousness into flesh.

His muscles ached from holding the lotus position for an extended period. When he shifted experimentally, joints popped with releasing tension that had accumulated during the two hours his body had remained motionless. His back protested the movement, stiffness radiating along his spine.

Sweat soaked his clothes completely, fabric clinging uncomfortably to skin. The mental exertion had manifested physically somehow, body responding to training that occurred entirely within consciousness. The phenomenon still didn't make complete sense to him from a physiological perspective, but results were undeniable.

He stood carefully, testing his balance before committing to full movement. His legs tingled with pins and needles sensation as blood flow normalized after prolonged immobility. The discomfort was tolerable, just an annoying reminder that mental space training still had physical consequences.

The small bathroom beckoned. Raze filled the basin with cool water, splashing it across his face and neck. The temperature contrast felt incredible against overheated skin, refreshing in ways that made the effort of standing worth the discomfort. He washed methodically, removing sweat and grime that somehow felt more substantial than it should given he'd been sitting still the entire time.

His reflection in the small mirror showed fatigue around his eyes, slight hollowness to his cheeks that suggested the training had taken more out of him than he'd initially recognized. But no other visible signs of what he'd just endured. No marks, no injuries, just normal exhaustion that could have come from any extended physical activity.

Clean clothes from the storage chest. Comfortable sleep garments that wouldn't restrict movement if he needed to wake quickly for an emergency. The precaution was probably unnecessary within Academy grounds where security was presumably excellent, but habits formed during months of constant danger were hard to break even when circumstances changed.

His bed looked absurdly inviting after everything. Raze settled onto the mattress with relief that was almost physical, body relaxing immediately as muscles released tension they'd been maintaining throughout the day's various conflicts and subsequent training session.

'Tomorrow I begin training the kingdom members,' he thought, staring at the ceiling while waiting for sleep to claim him. 'Twenty-nine people who need to develop from merely competent into genuinely exceptional if we're going to compete successfully against other kingdoms with superior resources and talent pools. That's going to require sustained attention and individualized instruction and probably significant patience when people struggle with concepts that seem obvious to me after months of Asura's brutal teaching methods.'

The challenge was substantial but not impossible. He'd observed everyone during the horde defense, seen how they moved and fought and responded to pressure. That observation provided a baseline assessment of their current capabilities and obvious areas needing improvement. From there it was just a matter of designing training regimens that addressed weaknesses while building on existing strengths.

'Helena needs to work on stamina and recovery between exchanges. Garrett's positioning is sometimes too aggressive, leaving him vulnerable to counter. Darius is solid overall but could benefit from incorporating more deceptive elements into his technique. And that's just the Pieces. The general members have even more varied needs requiring individual attention.'

His eyes grew heavier. Consciousness began drifting toward genuine sleep that would restore him for tomorrow's challenges. The mental fatigue from the training session with Asura was catching up rapidly now that adrenaline had fully worn off.

Outside, Helena maintained watch from the Watchtower, eyes scanning darkness for threats that wouldn't come tonight. Her silhouette was barely visible against the star-filled sky, motionless and alert. Inside the Barracks, his kingdom slept peacefully, secure in their King's protection and completely unaware of the ancient being dwelling within him.

Bephe shifted position outside his door, prehistoric predator's breathing evening into sleep while maintaining unconscious vigilance against potential disturbances. The creature's presence was oddly comforting despite his capacity for devastating violence when provoked.

The Academy's first full day had concluded successfully.

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