The next morning, the cavern was alive with the faint glow of moonlight, casting silver streaks across jagged stone and tangled roots. I woke to find Yukihime standing silently nearby, stick in hand, her massive shadow stretching unnaturally across the floor. She hummed a tune, soft and lilting, but there was a sharp edge to it, like a lullaby sung by a creature who might devour you if you dared yawn.
"Ah, child," she rasped, tilting her head as her molten eyes gleamed. "Bright-eyed and foolish. Today, your body shall learn obedience." She tapped the stick against the stone, and the echo rolled like distant thunder. "Hands up, shoulders squeak, push, squat, run, stones, bend, breath, all at once."
I blinked. "A-at… once?" My voice cracked.
"Yes," she replied, ignoring my protest. Her shadow swirled like mist across the floor as she began pacing, circling me with the stick, poking my shoulders, abs, thighs, even the backs of my knees. A muttered note accompanied every poke, scribbled in tiny, precise handwriting with her miniature glasses perched on the tip of her snout.
"Too soft here… flabby there… breathe wrong, and your heart will fall behind your lungs. How can you be a starlight wielder if your body is so… pliable?"
I forced myself onto my hands, wobbling precariously, and tried a shaky handstand. Yukihime crouched beside me, scrutinizing my form as if I were some rare specimen under a microscope.
"Good, good! Not dead yet. But hands must straighten, arms must obey. Leg muscles must sing like wind through bamboo. Bend! Bend like the moon bends the tide. Run! Run from shadows until your lungs laugh… or cry… whichever comes first."
With a flick of her claw, shadows erupted from the cavern floor, twisting and writhing like smoky serpents. I took off, sprinting after them, dodging and weaving as if my life depended on it. Which, in some sense, it did. Every time I stumbled, Yukihime's stick tapped against my spine.
"No, no, no… spine weak, spine weak… must hold the heavens," she murmured, jotting more notes. Then, as if remembering something, she glanced at the far corner of the cavern. A soft golden shimmer pulsed in the shadows—her portal, slowly taking shape. Streams of silver moonlight arced into the form of a swirling doorway.
"Ah," she said absently, "while you suffer, I shall prepare your return. Do not thank me yet. Your gratitude must be earned… after surviving the next hour or two."
I groaned, feeling my arms tremble and my legs quiver, but I obeyed. Hands pressed against stone, legs shaking in a horse stance, I ran, bent, lifted, held still, and bent again. Every breath was fire and ice battling in my chest.
Yukihime didn't stop. She hummed, poked, scribbled, muttered, and occasionally chuckled. "Your abs are pathetic. Your flexibility… laughable. And yet… promising." She tossed a shadow-wolf at me. I bolted, nearly crashing into the jagged roots, as she observed from the corner, continuing to twirl her stick.
Minutes became hours. My body screamed. My lungs begged for mercy. But through the blur of sweat and exhaustion, I caught glimpses of the portal. Yukihime worked steadily, moving between swirling moonlight and flickering shadows, occasionally muttering, "Yes… a child must have somewhere to go after torment. He may need it… very soon."
Finally, she stepped back, folding her massive arms, eyes glittering like molten silver. "Not perfect. Not even close. But you survived the first day. That is… marginally acceptable." She plucked a glowing fruit from a skeletal branch and tossed it toward me. I caught it, sticky honey-sweet juice dripping onto my trembling fingers.
"Eat. Recover. Tomorrow, we do it again—and I will add a few… enhancements," she said with a grin that was all fangs and warmth at the same time. "And remember… if you complain, the shadows will teach you silence. If you succeed, maybe… just maybe… you will not be useless in the Final Battle."
I sank to the floor, fruit in hand, heart hammering. The portal shimmered behind her, a silent promise of home waiting once I survived her bizarre, terrifying, and strangely loving training.
And yet, even as I ate, even as the fruit warmed my chest and restored some small measure of strength, a cold thrill ran down my spine. Tomorrow, I would endure it again. And the day after that.
Yukihime's eyes gleamed in the moonlight, and I realized something. This "granny doctor" monster, terrifying and infuriating as she was… she believed in me.
And maybe, just maybe, that was scarier than the Shadow Warg herself.
I sat on the cold stone floor, still catching my breath. The honeyed fruit had done its magic, easing the ache in my muscles and filling me with a warmth I hadn't realized I'd been missing. Yukihime reclined against a nearby root, the stick resting lazily across her massive forelegs, her eyes still molten with that unreadable gleam.
"You are… interesting," she murmured, tilting her head. Her voice had lost none of its rasp, but there was curiosity behind it now, something softer, almost human. "Most children struggle just to hold starlight steady. And yet… you—" she waved a claw at me, as if dismissing the air itself—"you wield Astralis as if it were part of your body. Not weak, not scattered… refined. Why?"
I swallowed, still tired but curious. "I… I don't know. I've practiced, I guess. Maybe… I just understand it differently?"
Yukihime snorted softly. "Practice? Hmph. Mere practice does not create that kind of resonance. Astralis is… temperamental, fragile, unforgiving. And yet you… it listens to you. Like it trusts you." Her tail flicked lazily, shadows twisting around it. "Tell me, child… what did you feel when you first held it? Before all the lessons, before anyone told you what you could or couldn't do?"
I closed my eyes, thinking back to that quiet night in the old library, when I first touched the solid Astralis core. A warmth had spread through me, a calm certainty unlike anything else. I'd felt… right, in a way that went beyond skill or training. "I… felt like it was supposed to be mine. Like it was waiting for me."
Yukihime's ears twitched, and for a moment, she looked almost thoughtful. "Hmph. Interesting. Not many can feel the essence before their mind even grasps the shape. Most wrestle. Most fail. Most are… unworthy." She paused, her molten eyes boring into mine. "But you… you are different. You do not just wield it. You embrace it. That is rare, child… frighteningly rare."
I felt my pulse quicken under her gaze. "Do… do you think I'm ready for the Final Battle?" I asked, voice barely a whisper.
She tilted her head again, a grin spreading across her sharp features. "Ready? Hmph. You will never be fully ready. Not for him. Not for what is coming. But… you may survive it. That is what matters. Survival is the first lesson of a wielder of starlight… of Astralis."
The cavern was silent except for the faint hum of her portal in the corner, moonlight spiraling and casting rippling shadows across the floor. I could feel it calling me, promising safety… for now.
Yukihime shifted closer, tapping the tip of her claw on the stone beside me. "Tell me, child… why do you not fear me? You should. I am a Shadow Warg. I could tear you apart in an instant. Yet… you do not tremble. Curious. Very curious indeed."
I swallowed, staring at her. "I… don't know. Maybe because you're helping me. I think… I trust you. Somehow."
Her fangs glinted in the dim light as she chuckled softly. "Hmph. Trust… dangerous thing. But… perhaps necessary. Very well, child. Rest now. The stars will not wait forever, and neither will your training. But for this moment… we talk. And talk is… rare between a goddess and her pupil."
I nodded, feeling a strange sense of calm. For the first time since meeting her, the monster who had terrified me felt… almost like a mentor. Almost like someone I could rely on.
And yet, deep down, I knew that her true test—the one that would measure me beyond training, beyond skill, beyond even survival—was still to come.
After that, I talked to Yukihime about my fears and worries.
Are my parents ok? Is Elara alright? Those bandits should have died.
However, Yukihime reached out a claw to my forehead.
Flick.
"Ow! What was that for?" I groaned, clinging to my forehead.
Yukihime picked me up, setting me on her lap. She said in a soft but pained voice, "Kawa, perhaps you are indeed right that those bandits deserve death. But do not let your heart be clouded by hatred or revenge. In life, not all things are fair. Sometimes you have to embrace it. Walking down the path of vengeance is a tough road."
"I know that." My voice awfully soft. Memories of my past life gushed back to me as I remembered the miserable hatred I had in my heavy heart. And all that revenge, for what? To fulfil my heart's desire? Walking the path of hatred and revenge is something I'm too familiar with.
Silence.
There was silence as we both immersed ourselves in thoughts of the past. She must have been so disappointed, knowing that her life was a lie. That was something I could sympathise with.
"I suppose, as talented as you are, I could teach you this," Yukihime broke the silence.
The room was bathed in a soft, silver light that made every dust mote sparkle like tiny stars. Yukihime got up and stood in the center, her movements almost too graceful to follow.
"Moonlight Walk," she said softly, her voice like the whisper of wind through leaves. "It lets you move like a ghost."
I raised an eyebrow. "A ghost?"
She nodded. "Your steps leave no trace—no sound, no disturbance. People might feel a presence… but they won't see you clearly. To do it, you channel Astralis into your legs, letting it lift you slightly off the ground. You float rather than walk."
Before I could ask more, she crouched lightly, and I saw a faint silver shimmer wrap around her feet. Then, she moved. One step, two steps… she glided across the room like water flowing over stone. The floor beneath her looked untouched. No sound, no vibration, nothing. It was as if she had never been there at all.
I swallowed. "That… that's incredible."
Yukihime's gaze met mine. "Now it's your turn. Feel your Astralis. Focus it into your legs. Imagine the energy lifting you, dispersing your weight. You don't run. You don't tiptoe. You float."
I closed my eyes and let the flow of Astralis rise through my limbs. A warm tingling spread from my feet up through my legs. I could feel it… it felt like my body was lighter, almost disconnected from the floor.
"Let it merge with your rhythm," she said beside me, voice calm but insistent. "Your presence should fade… not vanish entirely, just enough to blur perception. Watch me again."
I opened my eyes just in time to see her glide across the room again, slower this time. Every step was smooth, silent, almost like she was moving through water. I mimicked her motions, concentrating on the strange lightness beneath my feet.
"Not bad," Yukihime said after a few tries, tilting her head. A small, approving smile curved her lips. "But remember… it's as much about mindset as technique. You must believe you are not there. Doubt or hesitation will leave traces."
I nodded. "Then I'll practice until I move like the moonlight itself."
Her smile deepened. "Good. But be careful… don't let anyone see you practising yet."
I could feel the excitement building in my chest. Ghostlike, untouchable… the thought of moving like the moonlight itself sent a shiver down my spine.
____________________________________________________________________________
Meanwhile, in a realm drowned in shadow—where darkness stretched without end, where hours dissolved and eternity felt both too close and too far—
A throne of thorns loomed at the heart of the hall. Upon it reclined a figure, one leg crossed with effortless poise. In one hand, he cradled an empty wineglass; in the other, he idly shuffled a deck of cards, the faint snap of paper breaking the silence. His midnight-blue hair was tied in a loose half-up bun, the remaining waves cascading across his shoulders. Shadows clung to him, sculpting a face of cruel elegance that the light dared not reveal.
Soft footsteps echoed against the stone. A girl approached, her chestnut-brown hair brushing her shoulders, a jug of wine steady in her hands. Her hazel eyes, once filled with warmth, now stared ahead with lifeless emptiness. She halted before him, pouring crimson liquid into his glass; the splash rang unnaturally loud. Without a word, she withdrew into the gloom.
The figure swirled the wine, watching its surface ripple as moonlight spilled through a cracked windowsill. He lifted the glass to his lips, taking a slow sip. A smirk curved across his mouth—dark, deliberate—while the rest of his features remained hidden, as if even the night itself dared not reveal what lay beneath.
The silence deepened. He leaned forward, eyes faintly gleaming within the dark.
With a devilishly composed smile, he whispered, "Moonlight, I sense your presence once more."
His words carried the unhurried ease of a man convinced fate itself bent to his will, each syllable drawn out like a velvet blade. His voice was smooth, almost gentle, yet steeped in mockery—softness far too delicate for the malice beneath. And his smile, calm and unshaken, felt less like a greeting… and more like a curse.