The next session of training came sooner than I'd hoped.
After ending Mia's torture—I mean training—the previous day, Isolde, in an unexpected act of mercy, let me go as well. I didn't question it. Just left.
I'd done enough dying for one day.
With nothing much to do afterward, I crashed in bed like a corpse. There wasn't any point in trying to train other skills or techniques when I hadn't even taken the first step: feeling mana.
That was the core issue, really.
The reason Isolde had been throwing me into the proverbial meat grinder with those demonically possessed dummies was simple—mana in this world wasn't always taught. It was felt. Instinctively. Experienced.
And I, being an outsider to this world, had no such instincts.
No inner wellspring of mana awareness.
No childhood memories of light flickering on my palm or energy humming in my veins.
Unfortunately, Isolde's definition of a "push" involved methods that bordered on sadistic. And that push? It was very nearly shoving me off a cliff toward my demise.
After having a light breakfast, sharing a few hollow pleasantries with Lucian and Mia—who, surprisingly, seemed to be in a good mood—I returned to the training field. The place where nightmares were made and bruises were baptized.
Isolde was already waiting, her expression unreadable.
It didn't take long before I was back in hell.
Same setup as before: the wooden dummies stood in eerie formation, their surfaces reinforced with armor plating that seemed far too advanced for mere practice tools.
Then came the threads.
Those infamous violet strands unraveled from Isolde's fingertips like puppet strings, connecting to the lifeless dummies and snapping them to life. Their eyes lit up with a deep crimson glow—the sign of their bloodlust, and my incoming misery.
I barely had time to brace before the assault began.
One dummy kicked me in the head, spinning my vision sideways.
Another tore open skin along my forearm, splinters of wood acting like claws.
One particularly strong bastard struck my right leg with such force, I heard something crack.
Yeah, that was definitely broken.
And yet... I didn't scream. I couldn't even move.
It wasn't because I was trying to act tough—I simply didn't have the strength. Their movements were lightning fast, brutally precise. Each hit came like a sledgehammer wrapped in steel.
I was manhandled. Absolutely wrecked.
Dragged through the mud, tossed around like a rag doll, slammed into the dirt again and again until the world became a hazy blur of agony and darkness.
No spark of mana. No flicker of energy. No internal sensation to reach toward.
Hours passed. I lost track of time entirely.
I'd lost count of how many times I'd hit the ground, how many bones had fractured, or how much blood I'd spat onto the training floor.
When the crimson finally faded from the dummies' eyes, I was lying on the ground like a discarded corpse.
And still... nothing.
I couldn't feel mana. Not even a whisper of it.
Even Isolde looked surprised.
She crouched beside me silently, inspecting my barely-breathing body with a thoughtful frown clouding her face.
Then, without a word, she uncorked a familiar red vial and shoved it into my mouth. I let the liquid flow down my throat, the warm, euphoric sensation engulfing my nerves almost instantly. My muscles mended, bones reset themselves, and my mangled skin started to knit back together.
I gasped, the first real breath I'd taken in what felt like hours.
But even with my body healing... I felt dread. Deep, instinctual dread.
If she could bring me back from the brink of death with a simple potion, then there was nothing stopping her from sending me back to that edge—again and again.
And worse... it didn't seem like she was anywhere near finished.
Her brows remained furrowed as she stared at me, distant, clearly contemplating something bigger than just my lack of progress.
After a long pause, she finally spoke.
"I'm going to change the training method," she muttered, almost to herself. "Take some rest until I return."
And just like that, she vanished—disappeared into thin air without another word, leaving behind only silence and the faint crackle of energy that trailed in her wake.
The dummies, now lifeless once more, stood still—mere wooden constructs once again.
Their eyes had dulled, their threatening aura gone. I was alone.
I considered smashing them to pieces. My fingers twitched, craving petty revenge. But the image of Isolde's smirk if she returned and found them destroyed was enough to keep me in check.
Reluctantly, I flopped back onto the ground, staring up at the sky.
I should have felt something by now. A pulse, a resonance, anything. But there was only silence inside me.
Sure, I had mana affinity. That had been confirmed already.
That last one kept gnawing at my thoughts.
Nothing. What kind of affinity was that supposed to be?
There were no records, no stories, not even obscure legends about an elemental alignment called "Nothing."
It wasn't in any of the books I'd read. Not in the game lore. Nowhere.
Even Leon, the golden boy protagonist of this cursed world, had a rare tri-affinity—Temporal, Space, and Ice. Three powerhouses. But even he didn't have "Nothing."
And if the protagonist didn't have something that ridiculous, then either it was god-tier broken...
...or completely useless.
Knowing my luck, it was probably the latter.
Maybe it wasn't even an affinity at all. Maybe it was just the system's way of telling me, "Hey dumbass, you've got no other affinities. Congratulations on being average."
Then again, those strange dreams I'd been having lately... they were always laced with this creeping sensation of nothingness. That same emptiness I felt in my so-called "affinity."
Were they signs? Warnings? Some kind of twisted prophecy I didn't have the brains to interpret?
I rubbed my temple, trying to shake off the tension coiling in my chest.
No, I decided. 'Screw 'Nothing.' I'll just ignore that bullshit for now and focus on the one thing I understand—lightning.'
Lightning was straightforward. It was real, visceral. You could hear it, see it, feel it. A force of destruction wrapped in brilliant light.
Maybe I just needed to imagine it more vividly. Maybe that was the key.
I settled down on the ground, crossing my legs and placing my hands on my knees in what I hoped was a respectable meditative posture. I inhaled deeply. Then again. And again. Each breath slow, deliberate, calculated.
Breathe in mana, breathe out the rest.
'This world's air... it had to be different from Earth's, right?'
Surely mana would have a presence—some kind of texture, weight, or flavor in the atmosphere. Maybe if I focused hard enough, I'd feel it flow into me, prickling against my skin or humming in my chest.
Inhale. Hold. Exhale.
Inhale. Hold. Exhale.
Time slipped past like water through my fingers. The sun moved. Shadows changed. But inside, there was nothing. No spark. No tremor. Not even a flicker of heat.
Hours must've passed, but all I got for my efforts was a slightly clearer mind and numb legs.
Frustrated, I opened my eyes and sighed, shaking my head. Still nothing. No mana, no lightning, not even a static charge.
At least... at least I felt kind of refreshed.
Standing up and stretching my sore limbs, I took a look around—and then froze.
Isolde was sitting just a few meters away in a sleek wooden chair, nonchalantly filing her nails with a look of absolute calm.
How long had she been there?
Was she watching the whole time?
She glanced up as I moved and flashed me a teasing smile. "You sure took your sweet time."
I scratched the back of my head, sheepish. "Didn't feel even a strand of mana."
She let out a warm, echoing laugh. "If only it were that easy, Cassius."
Her tone was amused, but not mocking. It made me curious.
"How long does it take to feel mana?" I asked, half-serious, half-annoyed.
She placed her hands against her cheeks in mock thought. "Hmm... about one second. Right after birth."
I blinked. Then blinked again. "Wait... what?!"
She giggled. "Yes, that's the norm around here. Most infants are born with the ability to feel mana instinctively. It's as natural to them as breathing."
I stared at her with bulging eyes, nearly choking on my own disbelief. "What the actual hell?! Then why the hell am I taking so long?"
Isolde shrugged with a nonchalant grace only she could pull off. "You're not from here. Your soul doesn't belong to this world, so it takes longer for your body and spirit to attune to its laws."
I let out a heavy sigh, mirroring her shrug. "Yeah... I guess that makes sense. Still hurts my ego, though."
She gave a light chuckle and waved her hand. "Okay, enough brooding. It's time for your next training."
I rolled my neck and bounced on my feet a bit. "Yeah, alright. I'm ready."
But her expression changed.
She exhaled slowly, a little more serious now. "I'd like to ask for an apology in advance... for what I'm about to do."
That immediately sent alarm bells ringing in my head.
Before I could even question her, she snapped her fingers.
A blinding white light burst across my vision like a flashbang. I threw up my arms instinctively—but when I opened my eyes again, I was no longer in the training grounds.
The world around me had transformed.
Dark stone walls rose high around me, ancient and moss-covered. The air was damp and thick with the stench of rot and blood. I stood in a massive underground corridor—twisting, branching like a beast's gullet.
And then, as if to crank up the dread another notch, the system chimed in.
Creator: Isolde Lancaster
Description: Defeat the horde of monsters and navigate through the Labyrinth. Find and rescue Mia Lancaster.
Winning Condition: Feel Mana or Defeat every monster.
Loss Penalty: Death of Mia Lancaster.
Reward: Safety of Mia.
« Countdown Starts Now »
I stared at the floating interface in horror, the words burning themselves into my mind.
And then, I screamed at the top of my lungs—
"FUCK YOU, ISOLDE!!!"
Somewhere far above, I imagined her laughing her elegant ass off.