The Temple of Light's cultivation wing was quiet at dawn. Raze sat in meditation chamber seven. Cross-legged. Eyes closed. His reconstructed core humming with anticipation.

Sister Elizabeth activated the formation. Mana crystals embedded in the walls began to pulse. Bright. Rhythmic. Like artificial heartbeats.

"Two hours. Standard session. Are you ready?" Her golden eyes were concerned. Professional. She'd seen him during his first session. Knew his capacity.

"Ready."

The formation activated fully.

Whoooosh.

Divine mana flooded the chamber. Pure. Overwhelming. The concentration was immense. Like trying to breathe underwater. Like drowning in power.

Raze's core reacted immediately. His S rank Mana Well pulled. Drew the energy inward. His reconstructed pathways distributed the flow efficiently. Minimized waste. Maximized absorption.

The sensation was intense. Not painful exactly. Just overwhelming. Too much too fast. His body protested. Screamed that this wasn't natural. Wasn't safe.

He pushed through. Circulated the mana through his pathways. Compressed it. Forced it into his core. His container.

The cup was filling. Degree by degree. His Initiate Peak rank meant he was already near capacity. This session would bring him to the absolute limit. The edge before advancement.

Minutes passed. Each one an eternity of focused compression. Of willpower against physical limits.

His pathways burned. The volume was testing their capacity. Even pristine reconstruction had limits. But his S rank Mana Well made the difference. Endless capacity. Endless regeneration. The divine energy flooded in and his Well absorbed it all.

An hour passed. His container was ninety percent full. The pressure building. His core straining against the confines of Initiate Peak.

Not yet. Not during the session. Advancement required specific conditions. Controlled environment. Attempting it here would be catastrophic.

He suppressed the urge. Focused on filling. Not expanding. Compression rather than breakthrough.

The second hour was agony. Every additional drop of mana was forcing water into an already full glass. Surface tension the only thing preventing overflow.

But his control held. His Will at A rank provided the mental fortitude. His Absolute Genius calculated precisely how much he could safely absorb without triggering premature advancement.

Finally. Finally. The formation powered down.

The mana influx stopped. Raze opened his eyes. Gasped. The transition from overwhelming power to normal air was jarring.

He felt different. His core was full. Completely full. His container at absolute capacity. One more session and he'd have no choice. Advancement would become inevitable.

Sister Elizabeth entered. Checked his vitals with her monitoring crystal. Her eyes widened.

"Your absorption rate. It's exceptional. Near perfect efficiency." She looked at him with new respect. Mixed with concern. "You're at the threshold. One more session and you'll trigger advancement. Are you prepared for that?"

"Not yet. But soon." Raze stood. Tested his body. Everything felt denser. Heavier. Like his physical form was struggling to contain the power compressed within. "I'll wait until I'm somewhere safe. Controlled environment."

"Wise. Premature advancement kills more cultivators than combat." Elizabeth led him to the exit. "Your next session?"

"Not sure yet. Maybe a week. Maybe longer. Depends on other factors."

"When you're ready, chamber seven will be reserved." She paused at the doorway. "Lord Dragonheart. Be careful. Pope Reginald has been asking about you too. The young man with exceptional mana capacity. Word spreads."

"I'll be careful."

He left the Temple. Morning sun was bright. Warm. The capital's streets were busy with the day's commerce.

His Inventory held eighty-eight gold. His core held maximum power. His Bloodline stirred. Unawakened but present.

Progress. Real progress. But also exposure. The Temple was tracking him. The Pope was interested. Too much attention from the wrong people.

Tomorrow's problem. Today he'd enjoy being stronger. Being one step closer to Adept rank. To real power.

He returned to the Copper Rest. Found Mariabel and Aslan in the common room. Both looked restless. Bored.

"Session done?" Mariabel asked.

"Done. At capacity. One more and I advance to Adept." Raze sat. "What are you two doing?"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing." Mariabel's flames flickered with frustration. "Kael locked himself in the room. Says he needs complete concentration for calculations. Won't let us in. Won't talk. Just work work work."

Aslan nodded. "I offered to train but he said the noise would distract him. Told us to leave. Go explore. Stay out for the day."

"So we're bored." Mariabel stood. "And I'm tired of being bored. This inn is depressing. The room is cramped. I want to actually see the capital. Not just the Temple and these four walls."

Raze considered. They'd been focused. Driven. Training and preparing constantly. Maybe a break would help. Let them actually experience the city rather than just survive it.

"Alright. Let's explore. See what the capital offers beyond cultivation and danger."

Mariabel's expression brightened immediately. "Really? You're agreeing to fun? Actual fun?"

"Don't make me regret it."

"Too late. I'm already planning." She grabbed her coat. "Come on. I know exactly where to start."

They left the inn together. Three young cultivators walking without purpose. Without mission. Just existing in the space between crises.

Mariabel led them to the entertainment district. A section of the capital dedicated to pleasure rather than commerce. Theaters. Restaurants. Gardens. Places where people went to forget their problems.

"First stop. Food that doesn't taste like boiled sadness." She pointed to a restaurant. Upscale. Expensive. "My treat. I still have gold from Magnus's payment."

They entered. The interior was elegant. Clean tablecloths. Actual silverware. The smell of properly seasoned food.

The server looked skeptical. Three young people in worn clothes. But Mariabel's noble bearing convinced him. They were seated. Given menus with prices that made Raze wince.

"Relax. Enjoy it." Mariabel ordered something complicated. Multiple courses. Wine. "We deserve this. We killed a Master. Cleared a dungeon. Saved children. One expensive meal won't bankrupt us."

The food arrived in stages. Soup. Bread. Main courses. Everything was exquisite. Properly cooked. Seasoned. Nothing like inn fare.

Aslan ate slowly. Savoring each bite. His silver eyes closed. "I forgot food could taste like this. Five years of scraps and stolen meals. This is..."

"Heaven," Mariabel finished. "Pure culinary heaven."

They talked. Actually talked. Not about missions. Not about training. Just talked.

Mariabel shared stories about noble life before the disgrace. The parties. The politics. The endless games of status and influence.

"It was suffocating. Every word calculated. Every gesture measured. One wrong move and your family's reputation suffered." She drank wine. Not too much. Just enough. "When we lost everything. When the disgrace came. Part of me was relieved. No more pretending. No more games."

Aslan shared fragments of his time in hiding. The fear. The loneliness. The desperate hope someone would find a cure.

"I lived in the sewers for two years. Underground. Alone. Only came out at night. Avoided everyone." His hands clenched. "I was so lonely. So afraid of myself. Of what I might do if someone got too close."

Raze listened more than shared. His story was too complicated. Too impossible. Reincarnation. Game knowledge. Stolen futures. He couldn't explain without revealing everything.

But he shared small truths. Sophie. The desperation to save her. The guilt of nearly failing.

"She trusted me completely. Never doubted. Even when I doubted myself." He stared at his plate. "That trust was terrifying. What if I failed? What if she died because I wasn't good enough?"

"But you didn't fail," Mariabel said gently. "She's alive. Healthy. Because you refused to give up."

"We refused to give up," Raze corrected. "All of us. Together."

The meal finished. They left feeling fuller than they had in weeks. Both physically and emotionally.

Next they visited the entertainment plaza. Street performers juggled fire. Acrobats flipped and twisted. Musicians played instruments Raze didn't recognize.

Mariabel watched everything with childlike wonder. The noble facade dropped completely. She laughed. Actually laughed. Genuine and unrestrained.

"Look at that! He's juggling seven torches!" She pointed. "How is that even possible?"

"Practice," Aslan said. Then. "Or maybe magic. Could be magic."

"Does it matter? It's impressive either way."

They watched performers for an hour. Dropped coins in collection plates. Enjoyed the simple pleasure of entertainment.

Then Mariabel spotted something. Her eyes lit up.

"The arcade gardens. Come on."

The gardens were beautiful. Maintained. Flowers from across the kingdom. Trees shaped by cultivation techniques. Paths winding through carefully designed nature.

They walked. No destination. Just walking. Enjoying the peace. The quiet. The absence of danger for once.

"This is nice," Aslan said quietly. "Just existing. No training. No fear. Just being."

"We should do this more often," Mariabel agreed. "Between crises. Between missions. Just remember we're people. Not just cultivators."

They found a fountain. Sat on the edge. Watched water flow. Listened to the sound. Meditative. Peaceful.

Raze felt something unknot in his chest. Tension he hadn't realized he carried. The constant pressure of responsibility. Of knowing too much. Of trying to change fate itself.

For one afternoon. Just one. He let it go. Let himself be seventeen. Young. Alive. Enjoying simple pleasures with friends.

Friends. When had they become that? Somewhere between fighting together and trusting each other. Between shared danger and shared victories.

The Four Stars weren't just a team. They were friends. Family. People who mattered.

The realization settled warmly.

They left the gardens as afternoon faded toward evening. The capital's streets were transitioning. Day crowds giving way to night crowds. Different energy. Different dangers.

"We should head back," Raze suggested. "Kael might be finished. We should check."

They navigated back toward the inn district. Relaxed. Happy. The day had been exactly what they needed.

Then Raze's Combat Reflex screamed.

Danger. Close. Approaching.

He grabbed Mariabel and Aslan. Pulled them into a side alley. "Something's wrong."

"What?" Mariabel's flames ignited instinctively.

"Not sure. Just wrong."

They watched from the shadows. The main street. People passing. Then a group emerged. Different from the crowd.

Guards. But not city guard. Private uniforms. Well armed. Moving with purpose. Searching.

They stopped people randomly. Asking questions. Showing something. A sketch maybe.

Raze's perception couldn't make out details. But his instinct screamed danger. This was connected to them somehow.

One guard stopped a merchant. Showed the sketch. The merchant shook his head. The guard moved on.

The group was systematic. Methodical. Searching for someone specific.

"We need to get back to the inn. Now." Raze kept his voice low. "Stay in the alley. Use side streets. Avoid main roads."

They moved quickly. Carefully. Using their collective skills. Raze's Combat Reflex tracked danger. Mariabel's flames provided occasional light. Aslan's enhanced senses detected guards before they appeared.

They reached the Copper Rest. Slipped in through the side entrance. Up the stairs. To their rooms.

Kael looked up as they burst in. His expression was exhausted. Focused. "You're back. Good. I finished the calculations. We can start Aslan's treatment tomorrow morning."

"That's great but we have a problem." Raze moved to the window. Looked down at the street. "Guards are searching for someone. Private guards. Lord Venn's men probably. They're showing sketches. Asking questions."

"Who are they looking for?"

"I don't know. But my instinct says it's connected to us somehow."

They discussed possibilities. Theories. What could have drawn attention. What rules they'd broken unknowingly.

Then someone knocked.

Thud thud thud.

Heavy. Authoritative. The sound of official business.

They all froze. Looked at each other. Raze moved to the door. Cracked it slightly.

A man stood in the hallway. Guard uniform. Lord Venn's crest. His expression was professional. Dangerous.

"Looking for someone. Young man. White hair. Blue eyes. Recently cleared a dungeon in the southwest district." His eyes found Raze. "That you?"

Raze's mind raced. Calculating. He'd cleared a dungeon recently. This was about him specifically.

"Why?" he asked carefully.

"Lord Venn wants a word. Seems there's a law. Dungeon clearings in city territory require registration. Lord takes sixty percent of all gains. You didn't register. Didn't pay." The guard's smile was cold. "That's theft. From the Lord himself."

Sixty percent. An absurd tax. Highway robbery made legal. But apparently the law.

And Raze had broken it.

The guard's hand moved to his sword. "So. You coming voluntarily? Or do we do this the hard way?"

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