Samael slowly opened his golden eyes.
He was still in his female form.
For a few moments, he remained motionless inside the Dreamscape Pod, staring at the capsule's white ceiling while trying to organize his emotions.
Or rather…
Trying to survive them.
His mind was absolute chaos.
Euphoria.
Happiness.
Bitterness.
Sadness.
Frustration.
Everything mixed together suffocatingly inside his chest.
The images of the fight against Mongrel continued replaying endlessly in his head.
The monstrous pressure.
The brutal dance of the black odachi.
Shadow Step.
The terrifying sensation of facing someone who evolved in the middle of battle.
Samael closed his eyes for a brief moment.
—I wanted to win…
His voice came out low.
Almost bitter.
The silence inside the capsule seemed to grow even heavier after that confession.
After a few seconds, Samael let out a long sigh and slowly pushed open the pod's lid.
He stepped out of the capsule in silence.
The truth was simple.
He had bought that pod for a single reason.
Sunny.
Or rather…
Mongrel.
—It wasn't that bad either…
A small smile appeared on his lips.
—Sunny was absurdly badass…
Even while saying that, his fists remained tightly clenched.
So tightly that his nails nearly pierced his own skin.
And his expression…
Was far more exhausted than he realized.
The defeat had left a bitter taste inside him.
Not just because he had lost.
But because he had clearly realized the monstrous distance that still existed between them.
Samael slowly walked toward the house's training room.
Although he trained frequently, he wasn't someone obsessed with growth.
In fact…
He didn't even like training.
To him, training had never been enjoyable.
It was simply necessary.
An unavoidable obligation to survive in that world.
Even so—
That night, he needed to relieve the crushing weight pressing against his chest.
Fragments of essence began to shine around his body.
His elegant silver armor appeared first.
Then came the rusty sword.
And finally the spear.
Samael took a deep breath.
Then moved.
BOOM!
His body shot violently across the hall.
The sword sliced through the wind in a brutal arc.
The spear followed immediately afterward, piercing through empty space with deadly speed.
Footsteps echoed across the metallic floor.
Slash.
Spin.
Step.
Thrust.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Samael danced alone against an invisible enemy.
But in his mind…
He was still in the Coliseum.
Still facing Mongrel.
The black odachi seemed to appear before him repeatedly, crushing his defense over and over again.
CLANG!
The rusty sword collided against the spear during a rapid weapon transition.
Fragments of essence vibrated around his hands.
Samael forced soul essence through his body as he increased the speed of his movements even further.
His control had improved considerably over the past few days.
But it was still insufficient.
The essence still felt like sand slipping through his fingers.
Unstable.
Slippery.
Difficult to control.
However…
Now he was finally beginning to grasp that escaping sand.
Little by little.
Step by step.
Even if it was frustrating.
Even if it was slow.
Even if he was still far from the level he wished to reach.
Sweat slowly streamed down his face as his movements became increasingly violent.
The entire room was filled with the sharp sound of weapons tearing through the wind.
Samael wasn't training because he enjoyed it.
He was training because he hated the feeling of helplessness.
Because he hated realizing he wasn't strong enough.
Because he hated that bitter taste of defeat.
CLANG!
The spear slammed heavily into the ground.
Samael finally stopped.
His chest rose and fell heavily.
Golden hair clung to his face from sweat.
And his golden eyes…
Trembled slightly.
He remained motionless for a few seconds before slowly clenching his fists.
—…I need to become stronger.
This time, there was no excitement in his voice.
No idolization.
No happiness over having met Sunny.
Only determination remained.
And the bitter frustration of having lost.
Hours passed like that.
Strike after strike.
Step after step.
Even his body eventually began protesting from the excessive strain.
In the end, Samael was forced to stop.
Breathing heavily, he walked toward the kitchen to drink water.
His Flaw had begun transitioning once again.
An invasive sensation slowly spread through his mind and body, like something foreign trying to infiltrate his thoughts.
Samael closed his eyes for a moment while resting his hands against the sink.
'…Perfect.'
As if the frustration of defeat wasn't already enough.
Now he also had to deal with that irritating curse.
Cold water slid down his throat as he tried to recover some of his composure.
Then—
The sound of the front door echoed through the house.
Samael slightly raised an eyebrow.
Someone had entered.
He slowly left the kitchen and walked into the living room.
There, he found Elizabeth sitting on the couch while petting Lord Fool, who looked absurdly comfortable in her lap.
Samael leaned against the wall and crossed his arms.
—Do you need something?
Elizabeth didn't even look at him.
—No. I had nothing to do, so I came to see if you were still alive.
Samael let out a small tired sigh.
—I see. As far as I know, I'm still alive.
Then he walked back to the kitchen to get more water.
Behind him, Elizabeth slightly tilted her head.
—What were you doing? You don't usually train this early in the morning.
She had clearly expected to find Samael sprawled across the couch watching something random or sleeping.
Not destroying a training room in the middle of the night.
Samael took another sip of water before answering:
—I fought against an absurdly strong guy.
His eyes lit up slightly.
The frustration vanished for a moment.
—You needed to see how badass he was… he wore this insane demonic mask.
Samael had completely returned to Sunny fanboy mode.
—Just don't fall in love. He's already taken.
Elizabeth finally looked at him with a strange expression.
—…Right.
Then she casually asked:
—So? Did you win?
The question struck directly at the wound.
Samael's smile slowly disappeared.
He remained silent for a few seconds before answering without turning around:
—I never had a chance.
His voice came out quieter this time.
—Honestly… I didn't even enter that fight expecting to win.
Elizabeth remained quiet for a moment.
Then shrugged.
—You'll win next time.
Samael widened his eyes.
For a brief moment, he felt genuinely emotional.
'She's… comforting me?'
But then Elizabeth continued:
—After all, you're part of my cohort. If you keep losing, it makes me look bad.
Samael fell silent.
Then let out a long tired sigh.
'…Now that sounds more like her.'
A small bitter smile appeared on his lips.
While watching Elizabeth absentmindedly play with Lord Fool, Samael couldn't help but think:
'What rock bottom…'
Needing comfort because of a defeat in a game.
That really was pathetic.