Silas examined him quietly, his expression unreadable.
"I didn't expect much," he said at last, voice calm as ever, "but you did good. Considering your condition… I now have a good grasp of how much strength you truly possess."
Akira tried to lift his head, but his neck refused to obey. His fingers twitched weakly, scraping against the stone floor.
He wanted to speak — wanted to yell, curse, ask why — but all that left his throat was a hoarse, broken rasp.
Silas crouched down beside him, eyes cold but focused.
"You survived longer than I thought. Your body gave out… yet your will kept you moving. Hence, you are still conscious."
It was praise.
It didn't sound like praise.
Silas let out a quiet breath before slipping his arms under Akira and lifting him off the ground as if he weighed nothing.
Akira's body hung limply, every muscle trembling without his permission. His vision blurred in and out, but even through the haze he felt the sudden shift in air as Silas began walking.
The forest canopy passed above them in uneven shapes. Each step jostled Akira's battered body, sending dull shocks of pain through him, but he couldn't even flinch.
Silas glanced down at him once.
"You're still maintaining mana circulation in this condition," Silas said, tone low.
Akira couldn't understand what Silas said. His eyes drooped, heavy and unfocused.
Silas shifted his grip slightly, stabilizing him.
Branches parted as they reached the forest edge. The castle's distant towers rose against the darkening sky.
Akira's vision finally faded into darkness as Silas carried him the rest of the way.
Akira jolted upright with a sharp, ragged breath.
For a moment he didn't know where he was — only the lingering echo of pain, the forest floor beneath him, Silas's voice, the crushing exhaustion still stuck in his bones.
His chest rose and fell in uneven, angry heaves.
Then he felt it.
Softness.
A mattress. The ceiling above him was familiar.
His room.
In the castle.
I'm back…?
His jaw tightened.
Silas brought me here.
Rage surged through him, hot enough to burn away the lingering fog in his mind.
He swung his legs off the bed, nearly stumbling as his weak muscles protested — but he forced himself upright.
Pain flared.
He welcomed it.
Because it reminded him of exactly why he was furious.
"That bastard…" Akira muttered under his breath, teeth grinding.
He stormed toward the door, shoved it open—
—and froze when he nearly ran straight into Sebastian.
He gave Akira one slow look, from head to shaking toes.
"You're awake," Sebastian said evenly.
Akira's glare could've cut stone. "Where is Silas?"
Sebastian blinked once. "I see your mood has improved."
"Where. Is. He." Akira growled, stepping closer.
Sebastian didn't move. If anything, he seemed slightly amused.
"He's in the training grounds sparring."
Akira stepped past Sebastian.
Sebastian followed casually behind him. "Do try not to collapse on the way there," he commented.
Akira ignored him. Servants he passed stared in confusion.
He was furious.
And that fury dragged him through the halls until he reached the open-air training grounds.
The moment he stepped outside, the crisp wind brushed across his face. The clashing sound of metal rang through the air.
Akira's eyes locked onto the figure at the center of the training grounds.
Silas.
Sparring with two knights at once, moving with effortless precision. Not even winded. Not even trying.
Akira's teeth clenched.
His vision tunneled.
"SILAS!!"
He didn't think — he charged, sprinting across the arena, but he never reached Silas.
One of the knights — a bulky man with cropped dark hair — stepped in his path, annoyed at the interruption. His fist shot out before Akira could even react.
"Outta the way, kid."
WHAM.
The punch slammed into Akira's stomach, launching him backward. His body skidded across the dirt, choking as the air was ripped from his lungs.
He curled slightly, coughing, vision spinning.
"What the—" the knight scoffed. "Who's this little twerp running around screaming?"
Akira tried to push himself up, rage burning hotter than the pain.
Before the knight could step closer, Silas raised a hand.
"Stop."
The knight froze instantly.
Silas turned to Akira, his cold silver eyes locking onto him with a measured, almost clinical curiosity.
"So," Silas said, sheathing his blade with a soft click, "you came running at me the moment you woke up."
Akira glared up at him, trembling with fury.
Silas took a step closer.
"If it's a fight you want…"
His expression didn't change — but something sharp flickered behind his eyes.
"…I'll indulge you."
He dropped into a ready stance, one hand resting lightly on the hilt of his blade.
"Stand up, Akira," Silas said. "Let's see what that pathetic rage of yours can actually achieve."
The air grew heavy.
The knights stepped back.
And Akira pushed himself to his feet, ready to take on Silas.