Rin stared at the ruined throne room, at the younger version of Malachar seated before him. The demon lord looked almost human in this form, perhaps in his thirties, with the same burning eyes but less rage in them. More sorrow.
"This is your mindspace?" Rin asked.
"Part of it. When you bonded with me, fragments of my memories became accessible through our connection." Malachar stood, descending the throne steps. "This is the last day I was truly alive. Before the betrayal. Before the fall."
The throne room shimmered, and suddenly they weren't alone. Phantom figures appeared, soldiers in crimson armor kneeling before the throne. A woman in elegant robes stood beside Malachar, her hand on his shoulder.
"My queen," Malachar said softly. "Elara. She believed we could unite the realms through strength, create a lasting peace enforced by power."
"What happened to her?"
"She died defending me during the final battle. Threw herself in front of the hero's blade." Malachar's fist clenched. "I was so focused on the enemy I didn't see the traitor behind me. My own general, Valdris, drove his sword through my back. The hero finished what Valdris started."
The scene shifted. Now Rin saw a massive battle, armies clashing on a scorched plain. He saw Malachar, in full demonic form, fighting against a shining warrior who could only be the hero. Magic and steel collided with apocalyptic force.
Then the betrayal. A blade emerging from Malachar's chest. His roar of rage and pain. The hero's final strike, a beam of pure light that pierced the demon lord's heart.
"I don't show you this for sympathy," Malachar said as the vision faded. "I show you this so you understand. I was a king. A conqueror. A leader of armies. And I was brought low by trust misplaced and enemies underestimated."
"Why tell me now?"
"Because tomorrow you face your first real test." Malachar turned to face him fully. "That boy Marcus is nothing. His golem is powerful but stupid. We'll crush him easily. But after that? More challenges will come. Stronger opponents. Students who see you as a threat or a stepping stone."
He moved closer, and Rin fought the urge to step back.
"You need to understand what I am, Rin Eldraven. I'm not a pet. I'm not a tool. I'm a warrior with centuries of combat experience, tactical knowledge that won wars, and power that reshaped continents." His eyes burned brighter. "But right now, you can barely manifest me for ten minutes without exhausting yourself. You don't know how to direct me in combat. You don't understand the capabilities I possess."
"Then teach me," Rin said, finding his courage. "Isn't that why you brought me here?"
A smile crossed Malachar's face. The first genuine smile Rin had seen from him.
"Perhaps you have potential after all." He gestured, and the throne room transformed into an open arena. "First lesson: our bond is bidirectional. You can access my power, but I can also sense your intentions. When we fight, you don't need to shout commands like other summoners. Just think clearly about what you want, and I'll interpret."
"That simple?"
"Simple in theory. Difficult in practice." Malachar summoned his sword. "Your thoughts are chaotic, boy. Filled with doubt and fear and a thousand worries. In combat, that creates interference. You need to learn mental discipline."
He pointed the sword at Rin. "So we're going to practice. I'm going to attack you, here in the mindspace. You're going to direct my phantom to defend you. No words. Only thoughts."
"Wait, attack me? But this is in my head, right? I can't actually get hurt..."
"Can't you?" Malachar's smile turned predatory. "Pain is just a signal, Rin. And signals exist in the mind as much as the body. If you fail here, you'll wake up with the memory of every wound. Enough memories of pain, and the mind breaks."
Before Rin could protest, Malachar charged.
Rin's instinct was to run, but there was nowhere to go in the empty arena. He focused desperately on the connection, trying to summon a defense.
A phantom version of Malachar appeared beside him just in time, blocking the sword strike. The impact sent shockwaves through Rin's mind, and he gasped.
"Better!" the real Malachar called, circling. "But too slow. In real combat, you'd be dead. Again!"
He attacked from a different angle. Rin concentrated, imagining the phantom moving to intercept. It did, but clumsily, its sword positioning all wrong. Malachar's blade slipped past and tapped Rin's shoulder.
Pain exploded through his arm. Not real, but the memory of being cut, sharp and burning.
"Focus!" Malachar commanded. "Don't just think 'defend me.' Think specifically. Where's the attack coming from? What's the optimal counter? What's my positioning?"
They continued for what felt like hours but was probably only minutes in real time. Attack after attack, with Rin slowly learning to direct the phantom more efficiently. His thoughts became clearer, more precise. The phantom moved faster, its strikes more accurate.
Finally, Malachar held up a hand. "Enough for tonight. You're learning, but you're also mentally exhausted. Push too hard and you'll damage the bond."
Rin was breathing hard despite not having moved his physical body. "How do I get better faster?"
"Practice. Meditation. Mental exercises." Malachar dismissed his sword. "But also trust. You're still afraid of me, afraid of what I represent. Until you truly accept me as your partner, there will always be hesitation in our bond."
"You were a conqueror. A demon lord who killed thousands."
"Yes. I was also a king who protected millions. A husband who loved his queen. A leader who inspired loyalty." Malachar's expression softened slightly. "People are complicated, Rin. Even demons. Especially demons."
The mindspace began to fade.
"Tomorrow, we fight Marcus," Malachar said as the throne room dissolved. "Let's show this academy what a true demon lord can do."
Rin woke in his bed, dawn light streaming through his window. His body ached like he'd spent the night training, and his mind felt stretched and exhausted.
But when he looked at his summoning mark, it glowed brighter than before. The connection felt stronger, more stable.
He'd survived his first lesson with a demon lord.
Many more would follow.