The room remained quiet for a few moments after the conversation shifted away from whatever Layla had almost revealed.
Questions lingered in the air.
Arthur could feel them.
The way Layla occasionally glanced toward Sunny.
The way Sunny seemed unusually careful about the topic.
The way everyone else looked like they knew something he didn't.
Normally, Arthur would have pushed.
Would have kept asking until someone answered.
But right now—
he felt awful.
His body felt heavy.
His muscles ached.
Even sitting upright was becoming increasingly difficult.
The excitement of waking up had temporarily distracted him from it.
Now the exhaustion was returning with a vengeance.
Arthur slowly rubbed his eyes.
"...Yeah."
Everyone looked toward him.
"...I think I'm going back to sleep."
Silence.
Then Lucas immediately nodded.
"Good."
Arthur blinked.
"...Good?"
"You look like a corpse."
"Lucas."
"What?"
"That's not helpful," Kierran said.
"It was accurate."
Arthur sighed.
"...Thanks, Lucas."
"You're welcome."
Alex stepped forward slightly.
"Honestly, he's right."
Tom nodded.
"You shouldn't be awake this long already."
Arthur looked betrayed.
"Whose side are you on?"
"The side where you don't immediately collapse again."
"That's a valid side," Alexi added.
Arthur looked around the room.
Every single person seemed to agree.
Even Sunny.
"Your body is still recovering," Sunny said calmly.
"You were unconscious for over a month."
Arthur groaned quietly.
"I hate when people use logic against me."
Rivien immediately raised a finger.
"Personally, I think you should stay awake and listen to more of my stories."
"No," everyone replied simultaneously.
Rivien looked deeply offended.
"I offer culture."
"You offer headaches," Lucas answered.
Arthur couldn't help laughing again.
A mistake.
Because the laugh immediately turned into a wince.
His chest hurt.
His ribs hurt.
Everything hurt.
Alexi noticed instantly.
The smile disappeared from her face.
"...Arthur."
"I'm fine."
"You just made a face."
"I always make faces."
"That one looked painful."
Arthur sighed.
"...Okay, maybe a little."
"A little?" Tom asked.
"You got stabbed, beaten half to death, overloaded your resonance, and fought a corrupted demon."
Arthur considered it.
"...When you list it like that, it sounds bad."
"Because it was bad."
Layla crossed her arms.
"Go to sleep."
Arthur looked at her.
"...Are you ordering me?"
"Yes."
"...That's rude."
"Sleep."
"...Fine."
A small smile appeared on Layla's face.
Victory.
Arthur slowly settled back against the bed again.
The movement alone made him realize how tired he truly was.
His eyelids felt heavy.
The room felt warm.
Safe.
For the first time in a long while.
As he looked around one last time, he saw everyone still there.
His mother.
Layla.
Kierran.
Lucas.
Tom.
Alex.
Rivien.
Sunny.
Alive.
All of them.
The sight eased something inside him.
"...Goodnight," he muttered.
"Goodnight," Alexi replied softly.
The others echoed similar responses.
Even Lucas.
Though his sounded suspiciously like:
"Don't die."
Arthur rolled his eyes weakly.
Then closed them.
And within minutes—
sleep claimed him once more.
This time, however—
it wasn't the cold endless darkness of before.
It was simply rest.
While around him, the people who had waited over a month for him to wake up finally allowed themselves to relax.
Night settled over Greenmire.
Not that Greenmire looked much different at night.
There was no moon.
Bright stars clearly visible .
soft silver glow stretching across the forest.
Only the endless dark sky above and the strange shifting weather that never seemed completely natural.
Inside the shelter—
everyone slept.
Mostly.
Lucas and Kierran had finally stopped arguing.
Tom and Alex were recovering.
Arthur slept again.
Layla had eventually gone to her room after pretending she wasn't worried.
Rivien had somehow fallen asleep in a chair sideways.
And Alexi remained in Arthur's room.
But outside—
someone was awake.
Sunny stood alone in a clearing a short distance from the shelter.
The air was cold.
Quiet.
His hoodie moved slightly with the wind.
In front of him—
resting atop a black stone pillar—
was a clock.
Not a normal clock.
No metal.
No gears.
No batteries.
It had been made entirely by Sunny.
A circular construct formed from compressed creation resonance and stabilized matter shaping.
Clean.
Simple.
Its hands moved perfectly.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Midnight.
Sunny looked at it once.
Then looked away.
"…Good enough."
Weeks ago, he made it mostly because Greenmire had terrible time perception.
People were sleeping randomly.
Training randomly.
Eating randomly.
Rivien somehow claimed breakfast happened four times in one day.
So Sunny built one.
Problem solved.
Now—
training.
Sunny stepped into the clearing.
No audience.
No commentary.
No showing off.
He raised one hand.
Nothing happened.
Then—
the ground beside him shifted.
A spear formed.
Then another.
Then a sword.
Then a hammer.
Then they dissolved.
Again.
Spear.
Hammer.
Shield.
Dissolve.
Again.
His expression remained calm.
Precise.
Controlled.
No wasted motion.
Unlike Arthur.
Unlike Alex.
Unlike most people.
Sunny's training wasn't explosive.
It was repetition.
Efficiency.
Creating.
Destroying.
Creating again.
Minutes passed.
Then hours.
Slowly—
the objects became more complex.
A blade with moving parts.
A chain.
A segmented weapon.
Then—
a chair.
Sunny stared at the chair.
Silence.
"…Why did I make a chair."
The chair dissolved.
Training continued.
Then—
his movements slowed.
He looked down at his hand.
Opened it slowly.
Closed it again.
His expression shifted faintly.
Almost thoughtful.
His gaze moved toward the shelter.
Toward where Arthur slept.
Toward where Layla had almost spoken earlier.
Sunny looked away again.
Then quietly muttered:
"…Too early."
Silence.
The clock ticked beside him.
Sunny raised his hand again.
This time—
he created something different.
A black cube.
Small.
Perfectly smooth.
No details.
No flaws.
He stared at it.
The cube trembled slightly.
Then—
without warning—
a tiny crack appeared across its surface.
Sunny's eyes narrowed.
The cube immediately dissolved.
His expression remained calm.
But quieter now.
"…Not yet."
He looked up at Greenmire's endless sky.
Then resumed training.
Like nothing happened.
Night continued swallowing Greenmire.
The strange forest remained still beneath the endless black sky while the shelter slept quietly in the distance.
Only the soft ticking of the crafted clock echoed through the clearing.
Sunny stood alone.
His earlier creations had dissolved already.
Now the clearing was empty again.
Cold.
Silent.
Sunny stared at his hands for a moment.
Then exhaled quietly.
"…Again."
He stepped forward.
Raised his right hand.
Aether gathered.
Unlike most people, Sunny's power didn't explode outward.
It assembled.
Tiny fragments of black matter appeared in the air.
Condensing.
Compressing.
Layering.
Until—
two objects slowly emerged.
Daggers.
One hovered beside each hand.
Their design was simple.
No decorations.
No unnecessary details.
Slim black blades with smooth matte surfaces that absorbed what little light existed.
But despite their size—
the pressure they gave off felt wrong.
Dense.
Sharp.
Like they had been created with one purpose only.
Efficiency.
Sunny reached out and caught them.
The weight settled perfectly into his grip.
No adjustment needed.
He tested them.
A short movement.
One slash.
The air split softly.
No dramatic explosion.
No visible energy.
Just—
precision.
Sunny looked at the blades quietly.
"…Too balanced."
The daggers dissolved immediately.
He started again.
This time—
more aether gathered.
Longer.
Narrower.
The pressure changed.
The black matter stretched downward slowly until a third weapon formed.
A sword.
Long.
Thin.
Far thinner than what looked practical.
Its blade was straight with almost no width at all.
Elegant.
Minimal.
But the moment it appeared—
the atmosphere shifted.
The pressure coming from it was heavier than the daggers.
Not overwhelming.
Just concentrated.
Like all its power had been compressed into an impossibly narrow edge.
Sunny reached out and grabbed it.
His hand closed around the handle.
The sword vibrated once.
Then became still.
Sunny held it casually.
Yet the blade looked like it could split stone if swung correctly.
He studied it.
Then—
moved.
One step.
One slash.
Nothing happened.
For a second.
Then—
fifty meters ahead—
three trees silently separated.
Their upper halves slowly tilted—
and collapsed.
No explosion.
No shockwave.
Only a clean cut.
Sunny stared.
Then looked at the sword.
"…Too much."
The blade dissolved instantly.
Silence returned.
Sunny looked at his empty hand.
Thought quietly for a second.
Then nodded once.
Two daggers.
One long sword.
Fast.
Light.
Minimal.
Enough.
He raised his hand again.
This time—
the weapons returned.
One dagger in each hand.
The thin black sword floating behind him.
And beneath the endless dark sky—
Sunny resumed training.
Night stretched quietly over Greenmire.
The shelter remained mostly asleep.
Mostly.
Inside Arthur's room—
the silence broke.
Arthur Ravenheart slowly opened his eyes.
No endless void.
No crimson eyes.
No ancient voice.
Just darkness.
Real darkness.
And the faint sound of…
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Arthur blinked slowly.
His body immediately reminded him he was injured.
His chest hurt.
His shoulders hurt.
Everything felt heavy.
But compared to before—
this felt real.
He looked around.
The room was dim.
Alexi had fallen asleep sitting beside his bed, one arm resting near the blanket.
Arthur stared quietly for a moment.
Then looked away gently.
His eyes shifted toward the window.
And paused.
There was movement outside.
Arthur frowned slightly.
Slowly—
carefully—
he sat up.
Instant regret.
Pain.
A lot of pain.
"…Terrible idea."
He stayed still until it settled.
Then looked outside again.
Far away in the clearing—
someone stood alone.
Arthur narrowed his eyes.
It was Sunny.
Arthur quietly reached over and moved the curtain slightly.
Outside—
Sunny stood beneath the black sky.
And Arthur watched.
At first—
nothing happened.
Sunny simply stood there.
Still.
Calm.
Then—
matter appeared.
Not summoned.
Not explosive.
Created.
Two black daggers formed.
Clean.
Simple.
One in each hand.
Then—
behind him—
a thin black sword appeared.
Long.
Elegant.
Its edge looked almost invisible.
Arthur stared quietly.
No dramatic aura.
No wasted energy.
Sunny moved.
One step.
A short turn.
A dagger strike.
A sword movement.
Controlled.
Precise.
The weapons dissolved and reformed repeatedly.
Sometimes the sword.
Sometimes both daggers.
Sometimes combinations.
No flashy techniques.
No shouting.
No overwhelming force.
Just efficiency.
Arthur frowned slightly.
"…That's weird."
Not the weapons.
The style.
Sunny fought differently from everyone Arthur knew.
There was no excess.
Every motion looked intentional.
Like he already knew exactly how much force he needed.
Arthur watched silently.
Then—
Sunny stopped.
Very suddenly.
Without turning—
he spoke.
"…You should be asleep."
Arthur blinked.
Caught.
"…How did you know?"
Sunny still didn't turn around.
"You're staring loudly."
Arthur stared.
"…That's not a thing."
Sunny looked over his shoulder finally.
"…It is now."
Arthur was quiet for a second.
Then—
"…Can I watch?"
Sunny looked at him briefly.
Then turned back toward the clearing.
"…Do what you want."
Arthur took that as permission.
He quietly got out of bed.
Immediately regretted it again.
Walked to the doorway.
Then sat outside near the entrance instead because standing sucked.
Sunny glanced once.
"…You look terrible."
Arthur nodded.
"I feel terrible."
Sunny accepted that.
Training resumed.
Arthur watched.
Minutes passed.
Eventually Arthur spoke again.
"…Those weapons."
Sunny paused.
"What about them?"
Arthur looked toward the thin sword floating behind him.
"…You made them?"
Sunny nodded once.
Arthur stared.
Then looked back at the sword.
"…That's cool."
Sunny blinked.
That wasn't the response he expected.
"…Thanks."
Silence again.
Then Arthur quietly added—
"…You train a lot."
Sunny looked at the daggers in his hands.
"…Someone has to."
Arthur looked at him quietly.
Then smiled faintly.
"…You and I are gonna spar someday."
Sunny looked at him.
Then at Arthur's current condition.
Then back at him.
"…Recover first."
Arthur nodded.
Fair enough.
Then both looked back up at Greenmire's endless black sky—
one training.
One watching.
Neither realizing this was probably the calmest moment they'd had in a long time.
The night remained quiet.
The clock ticked softly nearby.
The clearing stayed empty except for the two of them.
Sunny continued training while Arthur Ravenheart sat near the shelter entrance wrapped in a blanket he absolutely did not admit he needed.
At first Arthur was only watching the weapons.
The daggers.
The thin sword.
The way Sunny created and dissolved them.
But gradually—
his attention shifted.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
Because something felt…
off.
Sunny raised his hand.
Aether gathered again.
Arthur watched quietly.
Then frowned.
The aether around Sunny looked normal.
Controlled.
Stable.
Nothing unusual.
But—
Arthur instinctively looked inward.
Toward himself.
Toward the flow inside his body.
Immediately—
he froze.
His expression changed.
Very slightly.
Arthur slowly lowered his gaze toward his own hand.
Opened it.
Closed it.
Then concentrated.
Aether responded.
And the moment it did—
Arthur's eyes widened.
The flow was different.
Not larger physically.
Denser.
Cleaner.
Like impurities had been removed.
Arthur frowned deeper.
He focused harder.
Carefully tracing the flow through his body.
His chest.
His core.
His pathways.
Then—
he realized something.
His breathing stopped for a second.
The amount.
Compared to before he slept—
it had increased.
Not slightly.
Not naturally.
It felt…
close to double.
And more than that—
it felt purified.
Refined.
Like the aether had been compressed and reconstructed.
Arthur stared quietly.
That wasn't normal.
Absorbing aether while unconscious happened.
Healing happened.
But not like this.
Not this much.
Not this clean.
Arthur looked at his hand again.
A small flame appeared.
Normally—
his fire flickered slightly.
Tiny instability.
Tiny imperfections.
Now—
the flame burned smoother.
Calmer.
Even the color looked clearer.
Arthur extinguished it immediately.
Sunny noticed.
Training stopped.
"…Something wrong?"
Arthur looked at his hand quietly.
"…No."
A pause.
"…Maybe."
Sunny raised an eyebrow.
Arthur stayed silent for a second before asking:
"…When someone sleeps…"
Sunny looked at him.
"…That's a broad question."
Arthur ignored that.
"…Can aether improve by itself?"
Sunny thought.
"…Not usually."
Arthur looked back down.
Sunny noticed the expression immediately.
"…What happened?"
Arthur concentrated again.
This time drawing a tiny amount.
Black.
Cold.
Dense.
Only for a moment.
Then he released it immediately.
Sunny's eyes narrowed slightly.
Arthur looked at his hand.
Then quietly said—
"…I think I got stronger."
Silence.
Sunny stared.
Then looked at Arthur properly.
Not joking.
Not dismissing him.
Because Arthur didn't look excited.
He looked confused.
Arthur looked toward the dark forest.
Then quietly muttered—
"…But I didn't train."
And for some reason—
the memory of endless blackness returned briefly.
That voice.
"You must master Absolute Black."
Arthur's chest tightened slightly.
Sunny watched him quietly.
Then looked away.
"…Maybe sleep agrees with you."
Arthur stared.
"…That's not helpful."
Sunny shrugged.
"…You were unconscious for over a month."
Arthur looked back at his hand.
Still feeling the refined flow.
Still feeling something unfamiliar.
And for some reason—
deep inside—
he had the strange feeling this wasn't healing.
It felt like preparation.
Arthur stayed outside for a little longer.
Not speaking.
Just sitting quietly while the strange feeling inside him slowly settled.
The refined aether.
The increase.
The unnatural purity.
And that place—
that endless black place.
He still remembered parts of it.
Enough to know it wasn't a dream.
But not enough to understand it.
Nearby, Sunny continued training.
Two daggers.
One thin black sword.
Create.
Dissolve.
Repeat.
No wasted movement.
Arthur watched for another minute.
Then exhaled quietly.
"…I'm going back to sleep."
Sunny didn't stop training.
"Good idea."
Arthur looked offended.
"You say that like I'm eighty."
Sunny created another dagger.
"You got stabbed, fought a corrupted demon, collapsed, slept for a month, woke up, then came outside."
Arthur considered it.
"…Okay when you say it like that…"
Sunny nodded once.
Arthur stood slowly.
Immediate regret.
Everything hurt again.
Sunny glanced over briefly.
"…You need help?"
Arthur looked insulted.
"No."
He took one step.
His legs nearly disagreed.
Sunny stared.
Arthur pointed.
"Don't say anything."
Sunny looked away.
"…I said nothing."
Arthur slowly walked back inside.
Before entering—
he paused.
Then looked back.
"…You train every night?"
Sunny kept practicing.
"…Most nights."
Arthur nodded once.
"…Don't overdo it."
Sunny looked at him for a second.
Then resumed training.
"…You too."
Arthur smiled faintly.
Then headed back inside.
---
Morning came quietly.
Greenmire's mornings were pretty much normal.
There was sunrise.
golden light.
the shift in atmosphere that somehow told everyone the night had ended.
Inside the shelter—
everything was peaceful.
Too peaceful.
Which meant Rivien was still asleep.
That alone confirmed morning hadn't fully started.
The first person to wake up was Layla.
She sat up slowly.
Blinking.
Stretching.
Then froze.
Her eyes widened slightly.
Arthur.
She immediately got out of bed.
Not because she was panicking.
Absolutely not.
She just—
wanted to check.
That's all.
Completely normal.
Layla quietly walked through the hallway.
The house remained silent.
She reached Arthur's room.
Opened the door slowly—
And stopped.
The room was quiet.
Arthur was asleep.
But—
not where she expected.
Arthur Ravenheart was asleep sitting slightly sideways in his bed.
His head tilted.
Blanket wrapped around him.
And beside him—
Alexi Ravenheart had fallen asleep sitting in the chair again.
One arm resting near the bed.
And—
there was a blanket over her shoulders.
Layla blinked.
Looked at Arthur.
Looked at Alexi.
Looked at the blanket.
Paused.
Then looked back at Arthur.
Her expression softened immediately.
Because she knew.
Arthur had done that.
He woke up.
Saw her asleep.
And covered her.
Layla quietly stepped into the room.
Trying not to wake either of them.
She stood there for a second.
Then smiled faintly.
"…Idiot."
She wasn't sure which one she meant.
Arthur.
For waking up injured and going outside.
Or Alexi.
For falling asleep there again.
Layla carefully closed the door halfway.
Then quietly sat near the window.
And for a little while—
she just watched.
Not because she was worried.
Just because after everything—
seeing them both asleep peacefully felt… nice.