The Gremory mountain training facility looked like someone had carved a military compound into the side of a cliff.
Stone buildings clung to the mountainside, connected by walkways that offered nothing between you and a very long fall. Training grounds occupied every flat surface. Obstacle courses. Sparring rings. Magical wards that crackled with barely contained energy.
Isolated. Intense. Perfect.
"This is where my family has trained for generations," Rias said as we arrived via magic circle. "No distractions. No interruptions. Just work."
I looked around at the peerage. Everyone wore the same expression - determination layered over exhaustion. Last night's confrontation with Riser had left its mark. The arrogant Phoenix, his dismissive sneer, his fifteen-woman peerage standing behind him like trophies. The way he'd looked at Rias like she was already his.
Ten days. That's what we had.
Ten days to prepare for an opponent with a power level of 85 and apparent immortality.
Ten days to save Rias from a marriage she never wanted.
The Fragment stirred.
"Insufficient time. Insufficient resources. Insufficient power." A pause. "This should be entertaining."
Not helping.
"I rarely am."
Baseline assessments came first.
Grayfia had remained behind to oversee the preparations - neutral ground, she'd called it, though nothing about her presence felt neutral. She stood at the edge of the primary training ground, silver eyes tracking everything.
"Power levels first," Rias said. "I need to know exactly where everyone stands."
One by one, we demonstrated our capabilities. Kiba's sword forms, fluid and deadly. Koneko's raw strength, shattering training dummies with casual ease. Akeno's lightning, crackling with power that made my hair stand on end. Asia's healing, steady and reliable.
Then me.
I cycled through my abilities. Light Lance. Stealth Mode. Flight. The Fragment's gifts, displayed for measurement and analysis.
When I finished, Rias studied the readings with a frown.
"Power level 52," she said. "That's good progress since your reincarnation. But Riser is at 85."
A gap of 33 levels. The number sat in my chest like a stone.
"What about the others?" I asked.
"Kiba is at 48. Koneko at 45. Akeno at 52." Rias paused. "And I'm at 65."
Still twenty levels below Riser. And that was before accounting for his peerage, his experience, his regeneration.
"We're outmatched," I said. Not a question.
"Significantly." Rias didn't sugarcoat it. "Riser has been fighting for centuries. His peerage is trained and coordinated. And his Phoenix regeneration means we can't simply overwhelm him with damage."
"Then what's the plan?"
Her smile was thin but determined. "We train. We strategize. We find weaknesses and exploit them." She met my eyes. "And we don't give up."
First session: Combat fundamentals with Kiba.
The Knight had selected a clearing away from the main compound, ringed by ancient trees that had seen centuries of similar training. Wooden practice swords lay in a neat row. The message was clear.
"You've improved," Kiba said as we faced each other. "Your footwork is Knight-influenced now. But you lack fundamentals. Proper form. Efficient movement."
"I've been copying what works."
"That's exactly the problem." He raised his sword. "Copying gets you this far. Mastery requires understanding."
The first exchange lasted three seconds. His blade found my throat before I could complete my counter.
"Again," he said.
Second exchange. Two seconds. Blade at my heart.
"Again."
Third. Fourth. Fifth. Each time faster. Each time more brutal. I couldn't land a single hit.
"You're thinking too slowly," Kiba observed. "By the time you process my attack, it's already landed. You need to react without thinking."
"Easy for you to say."
"Not easy. Trained." He lowered his sword. "Let's continue."
We continued. Ten exchanges became twenty. Twenty became fifty. By the end, my body ached and my pride was thoroughly demolished.
I couldn't beat Kiba. Couldn't even come close.
And Kiba was weaker than Riser.
The Fragment chose that moment to speak.
"You're struggling. Excellent."
How is that excellent?
"Struggle precedes growth. Pain precedes strength. You cannot improve from comfort." A pause, almost pleased. "Would you like to improve faster?"
I knew that tone. The negotiating voice. The price-and-power voice.
What are you offering?
"Combat Speed. The ability to process and react faster than thought. Currently dormant. Available for activation."
The cost?
"Minimal. A memory. Something small. A lazy Sunday from your childhood. Nothing significant. Nothing you'll miss."
I thought about Kiba's blade at my throat. About Riser's power level. About the gap that seemed impossible to close.
Do it.
The system display flickered.
[FRAGMENT NEGOTIATION]
[ABILITY: Combat Speed]
[STARTING PROFICIENCY: 35%]
[PRICE: Memory - Lazy Sunday afternoon (trivial)]
[CONTENTS: Childhood afternoon, no specific events, general contentment]
[ACCEPT?]
[CONFIRMED]
[ABILITY ACQUIRED: Combat Speed]
Effect: Enhanced reaction time and movement processing
Current Proficiency: 35%
The memory slipped away like sand through fingers. I couldn't even feel what was lost, just a vague sense of absence where something comfortable used to be.
But Combat Speed surged through me. The world didn't slow, exactly. I just... processed it faster. Saw the patterns. Understood the movements before they completed.
Kiba noticed immediately.
"Again?" he asked, raising his sword.
I raised mine.
The exchange lasted eight seconds this time. I blocked three of his strikes before his blade found my shoulder.
Kiba's eyes widened, just slightly. "Better. Much better." His smile was genuine. "Once more."
We continued.
By the end of the session, I was lasting almost fifteen seconds per exchange. Still losing. Still outmatched. But improving.
The Fragment observed silently, satisfied.
Evening meal was a quiet affair.
We gathered in the facility's common room, exhausted and sore. Asia moved between us, her healing light washing away the worst of the damage. Koneko had claimed the corner nearest the kitchen, methodically working through a plate of sweets. Akeno nursed tea with an expression that suggested she was already planning tomorrow's torture sessions.
Rias sat at the head of the table, papers spread before her. Strategy documents. Riser's known tactics. His peerage's capabilities.
"The key," she said, "is sustainability. Riser's regeneration makes him nearly impossible to defeat through direct damage. But regeneration has limits."
I thought about Phoenix Analysis. About the knowledge the Fragment had gifted me.
"Everything that heals draws from something," I said. "Finite pool. Depletes under sustained damage."
Rias looked at me sharply. "How do you know that?"
I hesitated. The Fragment's gifts weren't exactly public knowledge.
"Observation. Theory." Not technically lies. "If regeneration were truly infinite, Phoenixes would be gods. They're not. So there must be limits."
She studied me for a long moment, then nodded. "You're right. Phoenix regeneration is immense but not infinite. Sustained damage faster than he can recover will eventually exhaust him."
"So we need to overwhelm him."
"Yes. Which brings us to the problem." She gestured at her papers. "To damage Riser faster than he regenerates, we need significantly more power than we currently possess. At minimum, we need to increase our collective output by thirty percent."
Thirty percent. In ten days.
"What's our realistic target?" Kiba asked.
"Individual increases of fifteen to twenty percent. Improved coordination. Better tactics." Rias's expression was grim. "It won't be enough to guarantee victory. But it might be enough to give us a chance."
The table fell silent.
I did the math in my head. Power level 52, plus twenty percent, meant roughly 62. Still twenty-three levels below Riser. Still insufficient.
Fragment.
"Yes?"
How much stronger can I get in ten days?
"Define stronger."
Power level. How high can I push it?
A pause. Calculations happening in spaces I couldn't perceive.
"With optimal training and strategic acquisitions? Eighty, perhaps. Ninety if you're willing to pay significantly."
What would that cost?
"Memories. Important ones. Things you value." The Fragment's tone was matter-of-fact. "Power is never free, little thief. You know this."
I thought about the lazy Sunday I'd just sacrificed. About the hole where that contentment used to be.
I'll think about it.
"Do. Time is limited."
Later, as the others prepared for sleep, I found myself on one of the compound's walkways, staring at the stars.
Day one. Nine more to go.
My body ached everywhere. Kiba had put me through hell, and tomorrow promised more of the same. But Combat Speed hummed through me, new and sharp. A tool I hadn't possessed twelve hours ago.
Progress. Small, but real.
"Contemplating?"
Calculating. I watched a shooting star streak across the sky. How much stronger do I need to be? Can I really close a thirty-three level gap?
The Fragment was silent for a long moment.
"Insufficient."
What?
"Your current trajectory. Insufficient to guarantee victory." A pause that felt almost sympathetic. "But amusing to watch you try."
Thanks for the encouragement.
"Encouragement is not my function. Truth is." The Fragment stirred. "Sleep now. Tomorrow will be worse."
I stayed on the walkway a while longer, watching the stars and running numbers.
Thirty-three levels. Ten days. Three memories paid so far - two trivial, one major. How many more would it take? How much of myself would I have to sacrifice to save Rias?
The answer came without the Fragment's input.
However much it takes.
I went to bed.