Cragar's Manor, Underworld.
The air was thick and still, almost intangible. The training hall was a vast expanse of black stone, lit only by spectral torches burning with a greenish flame, casting flickering shadows across the walls.
Dahlia stood at the center of the room, her breath already heavy. In front of her, Cragar remained motionless, his tall and imposing figure seemed fused with the surrounding darkness. The god had not taken a single step. She had sparred with Marina many times before, but this was an entirely different kind of lesson.
Her father merely observed her, arms crossed behind his back. There was no hostility in his gaze—only calm.
"Attack," he finally said, his voice low and steady.
Dahlia clenched her teeth. She was ready. Or at least, she thought she was.
With a swift leap forward, she thrust the metal staff toward the god's chest. But before it could even graze her target, the ground beneath her feet shifted. A wall of rock rose between them, separating her from the dark god and forcing her to stop abruptly.
"Too predictable," Cragar's voice echoed beyond the barrier in a chastising tone.
Dahlia lunged to the side, but the floor split beneath her. In an instant, the ground became a heap of unstable rubble, ready to swallow her whole. She pushed herself with all her strength toward a more solid rock, narrowly avoiding disaster.
She took a deep breath.
The immediate necessity is to anticipate him—so I must force myself to find a solution.
The girl dashed forward again, this time aiming for a quicker approach. She unleashed a series of precise strikes, but none found their mark. The air vibrated, the earth hidden beneath the floor responded to Cragar's silent command, forming barriers that materialized around her, forcing her to remain ever alert.
Every move she made was neutralized before it could be completed.
And he still hadn't moved.
Frustration burned beneath her skin. It didn't matter how hard she tried to strike—the god of the underworld didn't even need to move. His dominion over metal and earth allowed him to control the entire battlefield with minimal effort. The worst part was knowing he wasn't even taking her seriously.
She knew her father's powers. And she was aware he wasn't using them to his advantage. He was merely making her fight a duel against the entire environment. Why was he acting that way? It was humiliating.
"Physical strength isn't enough, Dahlia," Cragar said, his tone as composed as ever. "You need to understand when and how to use your true potential."
Her true potential.
Spectral Travel.
That was the core of the training—the ability to transport oneself through the Interworld, to vanish in an instant and reappear elsewhere. It was a peculiar ability of all Cragar's children, one she had always possessed, but had yet to master.
A spear of metal rose from the ground. Dahlia noticed it only a moment before it was hurled toward her.
Her heart quickened.
Instinct pushed her to activate Spectral Travel.
She felt it surge within her, the familiar darkness enveloping her.
But then, at the last moment, something stopped her.
She stepped aside, dodging the attack with a traditional maneuver.
The weapon froze mid-air and remained suspended.
Cragar tilted his head. "Why did you stop?"
Dahlia tensed. She didn't know what to say.
"You could've done it, but you were afraid. You were about to," the god took a step closer, his gaze as impassive as ever. "I see when you tap into your pathway, Dahlia. I know you drew on the mana to use Spectral Travel."
She looked away.
Cragar stopped in front of her. "Are you afraid of your own power?"
The girl bit her lower lip. It wasn't fear—not exactly. It was more like a mental block. Something was holding her back, keeping her from using it naturally.
Maybe because she knew how dangerous it was, because Shirei had explained how easy it was to lose oneself in it.
The god remained silent for a few seconds, then sighed. "Use it now."
Dahlia looked up.
"Transport behind me."
The girl inhaled quietly.
I have to do it.
She closed her eyes and let go.
The darkness wrapped around her instantly, like a cold and familiar embrace. She felt her body dissolve, become a shadow in a turbulent sea, a whisper drifting through the void.
She found herself on the other side—behind Cragar.
A shiver ran down her spine as she regained form, her feet once again touching solid ground. It had worked.
The dark god turned, the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. "As you can see," he began, "you are perfectly capable."
The girl nodded, still shaken by the sensation.
"Now," the god continued, "you'll need to learn to do it in battle. It might save your life."
She knew that—but putting it into practice was another story. "I understand," she finally said, her voice steadier. "Thank you for the lesson."
Cragar regarded her for a moment, then gave a nod of approval. "Shall we resume the training?"
Dahlia ran a hand through her hair, trying to steady her heartbeat. Then, with a faint smile, she returned to a combat stance. "Thank you, Father. It would make me very happy."
The king of the Underworld didn't need to be asked twice. He turned slightly and summoned new weapons from the ground with a wave of his hand.
The real training had just begun.