Nathan woke to sunlight stabbing through the curtains.
His body felt like it had been disassembled and put back together by a quack. Every muscle screamed in protest, his left shoulder threatening to unionize. He lay there, studying ceiling cracks, contemplating whether "too sore to move" qualified as a valid reason to cancel training. It wasn't. But the contemplation was nice.
'You slept for just four hours,' Mirko observed from the pillow beside his head, her pink eyes watching with the assessment of a very small, very fluffy military commander. 'That is insufficient for human recovery. I have told you this multiple times. You continue to ignore me.'
"I've survived worse."
'You say that often, Master. I am beginning to doubt its accuracy.'
Nathan dragged himself upright. His combat suit from last night still clung to him. he'd collapsed without changing, and now carried the distinct aroma of exhaustion. He peeled it off as Mirko politely averted her eyes, though he caught the mental equivalent of a smirk.
'Your physical condition is deteriorating. The ice mage will notice.'
"Elise notices everything. It's her main personality trait."
'Then she will notice this too. And she will have words. Cold ones... get it? Ice mage and cold... Hehehe.'
Nathan grabbed a healing potion from his dwindling supply. The bitter, chalky liquid spread warmth through his limbs, dulling the soreness. He checked his reflection—bags under his eyes, wind-tunnel hair, a general aura of exhaustion no potion could fix.
"Perfect. Very inspiring. The team will be thrilled."
'The team will be concerned. There is a difference, Master.'
---
The training facility buzzed with activity when Nathan arrived. Garrett stretched near the entrance, Red sprawled beside him in an advanced state of laziness—all four black eyes closed, crimson wool rising with slow, peaceful breaths. Dillon sat on a bench, polishing his katana with loving attention, his Cloud Serpent floating overhead and occasionally zapping loose dust motes. Elise ran drills alone, her Frost Golem moving through precise combat patterns without acknowledging his arrival.
"Morning, Cross!" Garrett waved, his smile faltering. "You look... uh. Like you got hit by a cart."
"A small cart."
"A cart nonetheless."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence." Nathan rolled his shoulder. The healing potion had helped, but stiffness lurked beneath the surface like a bad memory. "Let's get started."
Mirko materialized beside him in humanoid form. The green light of her transformation drew Dillon's gaze immediately.
"Morning, Mirko! Looking radiant as always. That bodysuit is really working for you. Very... tactical."
"My appearance is irrelevant to my combat readiness, Hmph!"
"I disagree. Your appearance significantly impacts my combat readiness. It's really motivating."
"Dillon." Elise's voice cut across the chamber. "Focus."
"I am focused. On multiple things simultaneously. It's a gift."
Nathan activated the simulation before Dillon could continue. Training constructs materialized—humanoid figures of compressed mana, this time accompanied by environmental hazards: jagged terrain, shifting platforms, simulated crosswinds. The system had analyzed yesterday's session and decided they needed a harder challenge.
The first wave went well. The party moved with practiced rhythm—Mirko anchoring center, Garrett and Red on the left, Dillon flanking right, Elise raining Mana Bolts through gaps. Unstoppable Force built with each successive strike. Constructs fell in waves.
Then Nathan called a target two seconds late.
A small error. Barely noticeable. But a construct slipped past Mirko's left flank and charged directly toward Elise. Nathan pivoted to cover, but his footwork was sluggish, reaction blunted by exhaustion. He fired a Mana Arrow that went wide—wide enough that Dillon's Cloud Serpent had to drop suddenly to avoid being clipped.
"Watch it!" Dillon yanked his summon back. "That's my serpent, Cross, not your target practice!"
"Sorry..." Nathan adjusted, but the damage was done. The formation fractured. Garrett scrambled to cover the gap, Red taking a glancing blow before Mirko could intercept. Elise's Frost Golem absorbed two hits Nathan should have prevented. They cleared the wave, but it was messy. Ugly. The kind of performance that got people killed.
Elise raised her hand. "Stop."
The constructs froze.
She turned to face Nathan. Her expression was calm. Dangerously calm. The kind of calm that preceded an avalanche.
"Nathan. A word."
---
They gathered in the center of the chamber. Garrett caught his breath, wiping sweat. Dillon was uncharacteristically quiet, katana still drawn, Cloud Serpent coiled around his shoulders. Elise stood with arms folded, her icy gaze cutting through Nathan like a blade sharpened for this moment.
"You're exhausted," she said.
"I'm fine."
"You nearly shot my summon," Dillon added, his usual humor absent. "And you're never off-target. Yesterday you were tracking four allies and a dozen enemies simultaneously. Today you almost turned my Cloud Serpent into a kebab. What's going on?"
Nathan hesitated. Mirko stood beside him, silent through the link, letting him choose how much to reveal.
"I've been climbing at night. Solo runs. Short Towers. Pushing for levels."
The silence that followed was deafening.
Garrett's eyes widened. "You've been running double duty? Training with us all day and climbing all night? Cross, that's medically insane. I'm pretty sure there's a potion for that, and it's called sleep."
"I'm aware of what sleep is."
"Could've fooled me."
"Why?" Elise's voice was sharp. Not angry, but intense. "We're making progress. The party coordination is improving. Whatever you're chasing, is it worth running yourself into the ground before the duel even starts?"
Nathan met her eyes. "Yes."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I can give right now."
Dillon broke the silence with a sigh. "Look, I'm all for mysterious brooding. Very Samurai-chic. Very 'lone warrior with a dark secret.' But if you collapse during the duel, we lose. You're our caller. Our eyes. If you're running on fumes, we're all running blind."
"He's right," Garrett said, softer. "I owe you my life, Cross. Literally. You can't help anyone if you're dead on your feet. At least take tonight off. One night. That's all we're asking."
Nathan looked at them—Garrett's earnest concern, Dillon's frustration, Elise's unreadable assessment, Mirko's steady silence. They weren't wrong. Today had proved that. His reaction time was slipping, his accuracy dropping. If he kept pushing, he'd be a liability during the duel.
"Fine. I'll rest tonight. But tomorrow night, I climb again. I don't have a choice."
Elise's expression didn't soften, but something in her posture shifted—less judgment, more acknowledgment. "Then tomorrow, we train harder. So you don't have to carry everything alone."
She turned and walked back to her position. The constructs reactivated. Training resumed.
---
The TCA notification arrived simultaneously on all their interfaces during cooldown.
[Duel Registration Update: Tower Selected.]
[Tower: The Veiled Colosseum - Party Format (4v4)]
[Floors: 10]
[Date: 11 Days Remaining.]
[Public Broadcast: Approved. Viewing access available through TCA network.]
[Opposing Party Registered: Derek Stone (Magic Swordsman), Tyler Vane (Warrior), Reid Halton (Mage), Marcus Kade (Berserker).]
[Note: Marcus Kade is a registered Climber, Level 51, A-Rank. Registered as temporary party member per TCA Duel Regulations.]
Garrett read the notification aloud, his voice rising. "Level 51? Derek hired a Level 51 A-Rank Berserker? That's like bringing a dragon to a sword fight."
"He's spending family money," Dillon said, his tone unusually serious. "The Stones have deep pockets and bruised egos. Marcus Kade is a freelance. Takes duels, escort missions, Tower carries for rich clients. Not cheap. Not subtle. But effective."
Elise nodded slowly. "High durability. Low technique. He relies on overwhelming force and the Berserker passive—damage increases as health decreases. The longer the fight goes, the more dangerous he becomes."
"So we take him out fast," Nathan said. "Burst damage. Coordinated strikes. Don't let him build momentum."
"That's harder than it sounds. Berserkers are designed to survive long enough to become lethal." Elise pulled up Marcus's public stats. "But he has one weakness: he fights alone. His class doesn't have party synergy. He's a hammer. We're a team. Hammers break against coordinated defense."
Nathan absorbed the information. A hired A-Rank Berserker. Derek's party wasn't just his usual lackeys anymore—it was a purchased victory. Old money trying to erase humiliation.
"Then we make sure we don't lose," Nathan said. "The Veiled Colosseum punishes lack of coordination. We've been training for days. If we trust each other, we have an edge they can't buy."
Dillon's grin returned, slightly sharper. "Look at you, being inspirational. I almost believed that."
"Believe it. Or don't. Either way, we fight in eleven days."
"Ominous. I like it."
---
After training, the party dispersed. Garrett clapped Nathan on the shoulder—gently, mindful of the soreness—and headed out with Dillon, who was already speculating loudly about cafeteria food.
"I'm hoping for something with meat. Tower climbing builds appetite."
"Everything builds your appetite. You ate three breakfasts yesterday."
"Three small breakfasts. That's basically one large breakfast, mathematically speaking."
Their voices faded down the corridor. Elise paused at the door, glancing back at Nathan, her expression unreadable. She held his gaze a moment longer than necessary.
"Rest," she said. It might have been an order. It might have been concern. With Elise, the line between the two was always blurred.
Then she left.
Nathan remained in the empty training chamber. The constructs deactivated, environmental hazards dormant, only the faint hum of damage-dampening wards remaining. Mirko stood beside him, still in humanoid form, sword sheathed at her hip.
"You should have told them more," she said quietly.
"They know enough."
"They know you're hiding something. They don't know what, and that gap will fill with doubt. Doubt is dangerous in battle."
Nathan turned to face her. "If I tell them about the system—about the second summon, about what I'm really chasing—they'll have questions I can't answer. Elise already suspects. If she pushes and I refuse to explain, that trust we're building cracks. Better they think I'm just grinding levels than know I'm trying to summon another you."
Mirko's ears drooped slightly. "Another me."
"Another Bunny Girl. Not another Mirko." Nathan's voice softened. He placed a hand on her shoulder. "No one replaces you. You know that, right?"
"I know. I am simply processing. A second summon will change things. Our dynamic. Our tactics. Our..." She paused, ears twitching. "Our bond."
"Is that fear I hear?"
"It is... assessment. Hmph!" But her pink eyes flickered away. "I am your first. Your Knight. I will not be lessened by another's arrival."
Nathan stepped closer, his hand on her shoulder deliberate and gentle. "You could never be lessened, Mirko. You're the reason I've survived this far. Every time I've been about to fall, you've been there. The second summon isn't a replacement—she's reinforcement. She'll be joining our team, not replacing you."
Mirko was silent for a moment. Then she looked up, her pink eyes steady. "You said 'our.'"
"Because it is ours."
A pause. Then, very quietly: "That is acceptable."
She shifted back to bunny form and hopped onto his shoulder. Her warmth was immediate, familiar, grounding. 'You are still dense, Master. But you are also... acceptable.'
"I'm going to take that as a compliment."
'You should. It was one. Mostly.'
---
Nathan returned home to the smell of something burning.
He opened the door to find Lucy in the kitchen, frantically waving a towel at the smoke detector while a pan of what might have once been eggs smoldered on the stove. Mirko immediately hopped onto the counter and made distressed squeaking sounds.
"I was trying to make dinner!" Lucy shouted over the smoke alarm. "You've been working so hard and you always look tired and I thought maybe if I made food you'd be less tired but then the eggs caught fire and I don't know how eggs catch fire but these ones did..."
Nathan reached up and disconnected the smoke detector with practiced ease. He surveyed the damage: eggs beyond saving, pan possibly beyond saving, kitchen smelling like a crematorium.
"How did you manage to set eggs on fire?"
"I added oil! And then I turned the heat up because it was taking too long! And then there was fire!"
"Oil plus high heat equals fire. That's chemistry."
"I hate chemistry." Lucy slumped against the counter. "I just wanted to help."
Nathan looked at the ruined pan, the smoke curling toward the ceiling, his little sister trying so hard to take care of him. He ruffled her hair.
"You did help. Now I know what not to do with eggs. Very educational."
"That's not helping."
"It's helping me. Now move over. I'll make dinner. You're on dish duty."
"Hmph. Deal." She paused. "You look tired again. More than usual."
"I'm always tired. It's my brand now."
"That's a bad brand, brother." She frowned. "Are you okay? Really?"
Nathan hesitated, then crouched to her level. "I'm preparing for something big. A duel. In eleven days. After that, things might be different. People might talk about me differently. About us."
"Bad different?"
"I don't know yet." He met her eyes. "But whatever happens, you're safe. You're fed. You're going to school. Nothing changes for you. That's the important thing."
Lucy studied him with the unnerving perception of a child who'd grown up too fast. "You're going to win, right?"
"I'm going to try."
She considered this, then nodded. "Okay. But if you lose, I'm still on your side. Just so you know."
Nathan felt something tighten in his chest. "Thanks, Luce."
"You're welcome. Now make dinner. I'm starving, and my eggs are dead."
---
Later, with Lucy asleep and the kitchen restored to order, Nathan sat at the table and opened his status panel. Mirko was in bunny form on his lap, a warm weight radiating quiet contentment.
---
[STATUS PANEL]
[Name: Nathan Cross]
[Class: Archer]
[Level: 21]
[Magic Aptitude (MA): F-Grade++ (Effective E-Grade via Leyline Ring)]
[Title: Fast Climber] Slightly increases movement speed and stamina recovery while inside Tower environments.
---
[Skills:]
[Focus Shot Lv.6]
A refined mana shot that drastically amplifies destructive power when charged. Maximum charge: 30 seconds. Current output scales with charge time.
[Hunter's Insight Lv.4]
Greatly enhances vision and weak-point identification. Predicts enemy movement patterns. Tracks mana flow and exhaustion states. Can now maintain tracking on up to 6 targets simultaneously.
[Mana Arrow Lv.3]
Condenses mana into a basic projectile arrow, allowing the user to fire without physical ammunition. Damage scales slightly with magical power. Mana cost reduced from base level.
---
[Second Summon: Locked]
· Condition 1: Reach Level 25 (4 levels remaining)
· Condition 2: Significant emotional resonance event
· Condition 3: Compatible catalyst item from Tower floor boss
---
[Days Until Duel: 11]
---
Eleven days. Four levels. One party learning to trust each other. One mercenary Berserker paid to crush them. One secret growing harder to keep.
He'd promised the party he'd rest tonight. And he would. But tomorrow, the grind resumed. Level 25 was within reach. The second summon was within reach. And once she arrived, the balance of power would shift in ways Derek Stone and his expensive mercenary couldn't anticipate.
'Sleep,' Mirko commanded from his lap, her mental voice drowsy. 'You promised. I am holding you to it.'
"Wouldn't dream of disappointing you."
'You dream of many things. I hear them. Some of them are very—'
"Sleep. You said sleep. We're sleeping now."
'As you wish, Master.' A pause. A mental smirk. 'The dream with Elise was particularly—'
"Goodnight, Mirko."
'Goodnight, Master.'
He closed his eyes. Tomorrow, the climb continued. But tonight, for the first time in days, Nathan allowed himself to rest. The grind could wait. The duel could wait. The second summon could wait.
For now, this was enough.