Pain.

  Not unbearable—just everywhere.

  Like I wasn’t even a body anymore, just a collection of bruises, stiff joints, and aching muscles. My ribs felt tight, like something inside had shifted the wrong way.

  I tried to breathe.

  Tried to move.

  Tried to think.

  Something was… wrong.

  The air was too thick. The stone beneath me was too cold. My arms felt like they didn’t belong to me.

  Where—?

  “seven minutes.”

  The voice cut through the fog in my head, sharp and unimpressed.

  Rhyzar.

  I blinked. My eyes barely opened, vision still swimming, but I saw him—standing there with his arms crossed, looking at me like I was something he’d found under his boot.

  “Well,” he muttered, tilting his head, “I guess I have to lower my expectations.”

  His words hit harder than I wanted to admit.

  I pushed myself up onto my elbows, breath coming in ragged gasps. My body hated me, my ribs screaming in protest. I ignored them.

  “What…” My voice cracked. I swallowed. “What is this place?”

  Rhyzar didn’t even blink. “A Broken Tower.”

  I frowned, trying to clear the fog from my brain. “A what?”

  “A true Tower,” he said, voice slow and deliberate. “But broken.”

  Not the answer I was expecting.

  I dragged myself further upright, sitting against the cold stone wall. My limbs were weak, my mind still piecing things together. “So you brought me to a Tower?”

  The shift was instant.

  Rhyzar’s arms uncrossed. The smirk vanished. His voice dropped, low and sharp.

  “Did you forget your promise?”

  I stiffened.

  He took a step forward.

  “Did you forget your father?”

  Another step.

  “The Abyssal Tower?”

  My jaw clenched.

  “Your father’s curse?”

  A weight settled in my chest.

  “Didn’t you promise to free him?” His voice was quiet now—cold, cutting. “Didn’t you promise to face what’s coming?”

  I swallowed hard.

  He exhaled sharply, shook his head. “Did you think this was a joke?”

  The air felt heavier.

  “Games?”

  I looked away.

  “Did you think all the time I’ve spent training you was a waste?”

  Silence.

  “You can leave,” he said, voice eerily calm. “Go home. Play with your little sister. Drink tea, prop your legs up, help your parents in their enclosure. Live a leisurely life.”

  My fingers curled into fists.

  “But if you want to walk this path…” His eyes locked onto mine. “You’d better come correct.”

  The words hit harder than any physical blow I had taken.

  “You think I didn’t see your face?” Rhyzar said, voice sharpening. “Your attitude? The way you complained, the way you whined, the way everything became a bother?”

  I grit my teeth.

  He knew.

  Of course he knew.

  Yesterday, I’d been annoyed. Frustrated. Tired. Every part of me hated the training, wanted to toss Rhyzar off a cliff.

  And now?

  Now I’d been left for dead in a fight I should have survived.

  My stomach twisted.

  I exhaled sharply. “So you did this on purpose.”

  Rhyzar didn’t hesitate. “Somebody needed a reality check.”

  Anger flared in my chest. I pushed myself up further, ignoring my ribs’ protests. “So you knew I’d fail?”

  His lips curled slightly. “Oh, I knew.”

  I clenched my fists. “Then why—”

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  “But not like this.”

  The air went still.

  I froze. I had expected him to be smug, to rub it in, to smirk and say he told me so.

  But he wasn’t smirking.

  He just… looked at me.

  Flat. Disappointed.

  “You weren’t even close,” he said. “You panicked. Got sloppy. Let the fight control you instead of controlling it yourself.”

  My jaw tightened. “There were hundreds of them—”

  “And?”

  One word that cut through my excuse like a blade.

  I shut my mouth.

  Hundreds of brittle, low-level bones.

  Hundreds of weaponless, mindless, stupid undead.

  Hundreds, yes. But not hundreds of the elite forces trained by the Raiven family, not hundreds of Abyssal monstrosities you’ll soon be facing.

  “You don’t even realize it, do you?” Rhyzar studied me like a puzzle missing half its pieces.

  I swallowed. “Realize what?”

  “You had everything you needed to win.” His voice was quieter now. “But you didn’t.”

  The truth of it settled deep in my bones.

  I knew he was right.

  I hadn’t lost because I was weak.

  I’d lost because it didn’t go the way I wanted. Because I hadn’t treated the fight like life or death. Because I relied too much on my abilities, on my commands, on things going my way.

  And the moment they didn’t—

  I broke.

  Rhyzar’s eyes flickered with something unreadable. “Get up.”

  I tensed. “What?”

  “Get up.”

  Every muscle in my body screamed no. But I grit my teeth and pushed against the stone. My legs wobbled. My ribs throbbed.

  But I stood.

  Rhyzar tilted his head. “Again.”

  I barely processed the word. “Again?”

  “You think you’re done?” His gaze was cold. “That first time was the test. This time, it’s the real challenge…”

  My stomach twisted. “You’re throwing me back in?”

  His smirk returned, razor-sharp. “Oh, no.”

  He turned, gesturing toward the cavern’s depths. I followed his gaze—and froze.

  Because standing there—waiting—wasn’t just another wave of skeletons.

  It was something worse.

  Larger. Stronger. Darker.

  Not just a undead skeleton.

  Something evil.

  Something watching.

  Something that wouldn’t let me walk away this time.

  The air turned thick. My heartbeat pounded in my ears.

  Rhyzar exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “I’m not throwing you in; you need to get out. This protection spell will hold for fifteen minutes,” he said, barely glancing at me. “After that, have fun.”

  I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to stand straighter. My body still ached, my ribs still protesting, but I wasn’t about to let him see weakness. Not again.

  He tossed a small package onto the ground between me and Bobo. It landed with a soft thud.

  “Eat,” he said. “Recover.”

  He turned to leave, but paused. “Four more hours of training to go.”

  I stared at him, anger pulsing—maybe at him, maybe at myself.

  Rhyzar’s voice was quiet. “Now…” He stepped back. “Let’s see if you break again.”

  My breath came slow and steady. I clenched my fists and stepped forward.

  My heart felt ashamed, but my eyes burned with defiance.

  He smirked once more, then vanished.

  I exhaled sharply.

  Bobo let out an exhausted, wheezing noise and collapsed onto the ground next to me. I hadn’t even realized he was there, but I was relieved he was alive.

  We were alive.

  I looked down at the package. Carefully, I unwrapped it, and inside—

  High-grade provisions.

  Two flasks—one deep red, the other a translucent blue. Recovery potions: one for stamina, one for mana.

  Well, I guess he thinks I can heal myself.

  Another flask, faintly glowing—a speed enhancement potion. I’d heard of them but never actually seen one.

  And the food.

  Thick cuts of cooked meat. Not just any meat—prime bronze-rank beast flesh that could boost vitality, reinforce the body, and accelerate healing.

  For Bobo, an assortment of rare, high-nutrient fruits. Each glowed faintly with residual mana—the kind you’d only find in beasts’ territories.

  This was more than mere recovery food.

  It was a trove of treasures.

  Bobo pounced on the fruit, peeling one apart with practiced speed, tail flicking happily.

  I grabbed a piece of meat, biting in without hesitation. It was tender, rich with energy, each chew sending heat through my veins.

  Every bite of beast meat burned in my stomach, my body processing pure energy. I activated Adaptive Growth for both of us, forcing every cell to absorb as much as it could.

  Bobo devoured his meal, his fur regaining its sheen, his muscles practically humming with strength—growing taller.

  I uncorked the stamina potion first.

  The moment it touched my tongue, relief flooded me. Not just refreshment—like fire in my blood, reigniting every tired muscle.

  I ate more.

  Drank more.

  Then activated Vital Surge.

  My body absorbed the nutrients instantly, repairing itself at an accelerated rate. Every second of rest counted.

  I drank the mana potion next.

  The heaviness, the drained feeling, the fog in my mind, all lifted.

  I ate again.

  Activated Vital Surge again.

  More recovery. More energy.

  I wasn’t just returning to normal—

  I was surpassing it.

  By the time we were done?

  I didn’t just feel better.

  No pain. No stiffness.

  Better than ever.

  I felt sharper.

  Stronger.

  Bobo let out a satisfied huff, stretching. His fur had regained its luster; his muscles no longer trembled. He’d grown at least six inches taller, looking at me with a grin.

  He was ready.

  I checked the spell’s barrier.

  Ten minutes left.

  It still held.

  I still had time.

  Time to think.

  I wasn’t making the same mistake twice.

  No more going in blind.

  My father’s words echoed in my mind:

  “Know your enemy, and the path to victory will reveal itself.”

  This wasn’t an army of enemies this time—it was just one.

  I inhaled deeply, steadying myself.

  I clenched my fists, letting out a slow breath.

  I turned to Bobo. “We’re doing this right.”

  He met my gaze—no hesitation.

  I gave him the speed potion.

  No fear.

  As he drank it, his muscles refined, his body changed. The mark on his forehead shone with radiant power, and light emanated from his entire body. Bobo rose to a new height. I channeled all my skills to help him, taking some time, but finally—he stepped into mid-tier common rank.

  Now he stood at least twenty-five inches taller than before.

  But I saw no celebration.

  Only readiness.

  We locked fists.

  Then—

  I activated the Divine Eye of Origin.

  Everything shifted.

  The tunnel was still pitch-black, but the creature beyond the barrier—

  Was no longer just a shadow.

  I saw it.

  And my blood ran cold.

  The air was wrong.

  Thick, heavy, almost like it was pressing down on my lungs.

  I forced myself to breathe evenly, gripping my grimoire tighter. Seven minutes before the barrier dropped.

  Bobo crouched low beside me, golden fur bristling. His tail flicked, tension humming through his muscles.

  He felt it too.

  The name came to me:

  The Dreadbone Sentinel.

  Through the Divine Eye, I focused on it.

  It stood at the far end of the passage, motionless, slightly hunched. Its skull gleamed in the dim light, riddled with cracks. Three twisted horns curled from its crown, their tips dull and fractured.

  Its ribs expanded and contracted—not as if breathing, but like bones settling into place.

  Elongated arms hung at its sides, clawed fingers twitching in slow, deliberate motion. Whip-like tendrils sprouted from its back, curling and uncurling, testing the air.

  Deep, empty sockets glowed faintly with ember-like light.

  It wasn’t alive. But it was aware.

  Waiting.

  The barrier shimmered around me, keeping it at bay for now.

  But once it fell?

  It would move.

  I had to be ready.

  My grimoire pulsed, feeding me information.

  The Dreadbone Sentinel wasn’t just another undead.

  It was a guardian. A wall.

  It didn’t chase. It didn’t retreat. It stood its ground—a relentless force that wore down anyone foolish enough to challenge it.

  No heart to pierce, no flesh to wound.

  It didn’t care about injuries.

  It wouldn’t stop unless broken apart piece by piece.

  And even then—it wouldn’t stay down.

  I scanned its skills, piecing together a plan:

  Resistant to Slashing & Piercing

  Weak to Blunt Force, Fire, and Holy Magic

  Methodical, slow approach—but fast reactions

  Uses Bone Eruption to punish aggression

  Harrowing Gaze weakens resolve over time

  Will keep fighting, even with shattered limbs

  I frowned. Fire and holy magic were out. I had neither.

  That left blunt force.

  I exhaled slowly.

  If I fought recklessly, I’d be impaled.

  If I played too defensively, I’d be cornered.

  I had to control the fight—not Bobo.

  I had to discover a way to guide him. Show him, let him find his own flow.

  I had to dictate the pace—not the battlefield.