Chapter 11: Practicals
"Haah...!"
Ilya abruptly opened his eyes, drawing in a breath as consciousness returned to him. The first thing he noticed was the familiar sensation of freezing water surrounding his body, and it took only a moment for him to realize he was once again submerged inside the ice bath.
Still sitting in front of the bathroom sink, Vera glanced at him through the mirror.
She appeared to be calmly applying a skincare cream to her face. Catching his gaze in the reflection, she raised an eyebrow.
"You’re awake?"
"...Uh."
Still trying to gather his thoughts, Ilya lowered his gaze to inspect his body. After everything he had endured during the training, he fully expected to find bruises, cuts, and swollen injuries covering him from head to toe.
But contrary to his expectations, his skin was almost completely unblemished, leaving no trace of the punishment he had suffered only a short while earlier.
Was it all a dream?
"No. You weren’t dreaming."
She casually continued applying the cream across her cheek.
"The water is infused with restorative enchantments designed to accelerate the body’s natural healing while stimulating the mana pathways. It repairs physical injuries remarkably well, although the backlash caused by your Domain is an entirely separate matter."
Ilya stared at the water surrounding him before another memory resurfaced.
"When I froze that boulder... it shattered. Did I...?"
"Sorry to burst your bubble," Vera interrupted. "I destroyed it at the very last second."
She glanced at him through the mirror.
"Did you honestly think I’d let you die? Just what kind of person do you take me for?"
"...It’s not exactly a far-fetched assumption."
"Hm. You’re not wrong."
After finishing her skincare routine, she put the container aside, walked over to the bathtub, and lowered herself onto the floor beside it.
Taking a cigarette from her pocket, she lit it before exhaling a stream of smoke into the cold air.
"For now, your priority is conditioning your body."
Ilya quietly listened.
"I barely managed to stop the frost before it completely consumed your body," Vera continued. "The frostbite had already spread farther than I would’ve liked. Until we find a way to suppress or contain the backlash, every time you force your Domain into reality, you’ll be gambling with your own limbs."
She glanced down at his hands under the icy water, taking another slow drag.
"If we fail to control it, you’ll be discussing amputation before you even turn seventeen."
"...."
"I won’t be able to get rid of the frostbite if you keep making me soak in this ice bath..."
Vera shook her head. "You’re thinking about it backwards."
She tapped the edge of the bathtub with one finger.
"Right now, your body treats every trace of frost as an enemy. I need to condition it until it no longer distinguishes between the cold produced by this bath and the cold produced by your Domain."
She looked directly at him.
"The day your body can remain submerged in this bath from night until morning without developing so much as a hint of frostbite... that’s the day your Domain will stop freezing you to death every time you use it."
Another stream of smoke drifted into the cold air.
"More importantly, today gave me exactly what I needed."
"...What do you mean?"
"I finally found your limit."
She answered so matter-of-factly that it almost sounded mundane.
"Until now, I had no way of knowing how much of your Domain your body could tolerate before it began failing. Today, I pushed you right up to that threshold."
"...."
"Now that I know your upper limit, I can work backward from it. We can gradually determine how much exposure your body can safely withstand, what accelerates the frostbite, what slows it, and exactly where the line between survivable and fatal lies."
She extinguished the ash from her cigarette with a light flick of her finger.
"Only after identifying your limits can we begin expanding them."
For some reason, Ilya couldn’t shake the feeling that she was treating him like a research specimen.
Oddly enough, he wasn’t even sure whether he disliked that.
As he settled deeper into the ice bath, allowing the fatigue to slowly wash over him, silence filled the bathroom once again.
After a moment, Ilya leaned slightly toward Vera and gestured for a cigarette.
"...."
Without saying a word, Vera took one from her pack, placed it between his lips, lit it for him, and returned to smoking her own.
"Hooo..."
The two quietly smoked together, letting the cold air mingle with the tobacco smoke.
After a while, Vera slowly turned her head.
"You never question my intentions, do you?"
Ilya turned to meet her gaze.
"You’ve never once asked why I’m helping you, whether I expect something in return, or whether I’m lying to you. You just accept whatever I say without resistance."
Vera took another slow drag from her cigarette before exhaling into the cold air.
"You must not have any expectations of other people anymore."
A small smile found its way onto Ilya’s face as he exhaled a stream of smoke.
"Do you know, Ilya?" Vera continued. "Every single day, you look like someone who’s already halfway dead, drifting wherever life carries you, like a small boat abandoned in the middle of an endless sea."
"...."
"And yet, the moment death truly looms before you, the light returns to your eyes."
As long as one continued walking, no abyss could truly claim them.
"You’re far more human than you believe yourself to be."
Perhaps no one was ever truly defined by how far they had fallen, but by whether they continued walking after the fall itself.
"So, it’s not too late for you."
After all, even a fallen angel had managed to find the strength to walk through hell.
* * *
Half-drunk and thoroughly intoxicated, Anastasiya hurled her wine glass across the room.
Shatter——!
It struck the wall and exploded into countless fragments, crimson wine splashing across the floor as the events of earlier that day replayed in her mind.
"That ungrateful...!"
She clenched her fists.
For some reason, Ilya’s eyes, which had always been so dull and lifeless, had burned with a strange conviction when he spoke. She felt as if he truly would have slit his own throat in front of their entire family if she had forced him to return home.
That terrifying disparity between the brother she thought she knew and the one standing before her then had shaken Anastasiya so much that, for the first time in years, the only thing she could think to do was run away.
"Fuck..."
...Where had it all gone wrong?
That ungrateful brat had grown up with every opportunity to become the greatest. Despite being an illegitimate child, he had received a love that Anastasiya sometimes felt should never have belonged to him in the first place.
To say she had never envied him while growing up would have been a lie.
Even then, however, Anastasiya had long buried those feelings, reminding herself that she was the heir to House Belozersky, the legitimate daughter, and that Ilya’s very existence would never ever threaten her.
"Even so...!"
Despite all that, she had chosen to rise above those childish emotions.
She had cast aside her jealousy and did everything within her power to pull him back onto the path he had abandoned.
No matter how harsh her methods became, no matter how many times he cursed her or refused to listen, Anastasiya had convinced herself that enduring his hatred was a small price to pay if it meant one day seeing him stand back on his own feet.
And yet, after everything she had done, after every lecture, every reprimand, and every attempt to correct him, the only thing her younger brother had given her in return was a promise that he would rather die than go home.
Staggering toward the bed, Anastasiya let herself collapse onto its edge before burying her face in her hands.
Only then did her eyes slowly drift toward the unopened letter atop the desk across the room.
It had been delivered from the Northern Duchy several days ago, yet she had never found the desire to open it.
After a long silence, she slowly stood.
Walking over to the desk, Anastasiya picked up the envelope and ran her thumb across the familiar wax seal embossed with the crest of House Belozersky, the proud wolf that had represented their family for generations.
Without another thought, she broke the seal and unfolded the written letter inside.
———
My dearest Anastasiya and Ilya,
I hope this letter finds you in good health. Your father and I have been well, and the estate has remained as lively as ever, though it has grown a little quieter without the two of you around.
It has been far too long since I last saw my precious children, so I have decided to visit in person rather than wait for another letter. I look forward to seeing how much both of you have grown, and I expect the two of you to make time for me once I arrive.
Until then, please take good care of yourselves, remember to eat properly, and try not to overwork yourselves.
With all my love,
.
.
———
"...Ah."
It was a letter from their mother.
"This is bad..."
* * *
Every evening followed the same routine.
The moment Ilya returned to Vera’s apartment, training began. Calling it training, however, was being generous.
Most of the time, it felt more like a prolonged beating, with the occasional lesson woven in among the bruises.
"This is abuse, Senior..."
"We still need you to pass your examinations. I happened to glance over the Knight Department’s practical schedule. The very first day evaluates Iron Reinforcement, which, unfortunately for you, happens to be your weakest area."
"...."
There was no arguing with that. Ilya had to endure until every muscle in his body tore and every bone felt as though it had been struck by a hammer.
Only after Vera was satisfied did she toss him back into the ice bath.
Between studying during the day and training every night, Ilya somehow found himself reviewing lecture notes while submerged in freezing water, carefully balancing a notebook on the edge of the tub as wisps of cold mist drifted around the pages.
"My notes are going to get wet... Can’t I bathe later...?"
"You won’t be needing them anyway."
"These are just the midterms. I’ll still need them for the finals unless I want to kiss transferring departments goodbye. Besides, you’re a teaching assistant. Shouldn’t you be encouraging students to study instead of making it harder?"
"I am."
"Really?"
"Mhm."
"Is that why you banned me from cigarettes?"
"That’s right. You’re only allowed one after finishing a Chapter."
And the following day, it was the beating all over again.
The moment Ilya returned from the academy, Vera would drag him to the open field, hand him his sword, and begin pelting him with boulders, forcing him to maintain Iron Reinforcement without allowing him even a moment’s rest.
"Again."
Bang——!
"It still hurts regardless..."
"Then stop giving it reasons to hurt."
Another boulder rose into the air.
"Too slow."
"Fuck..."
"I didn’t take you for such a whiner. Is this truly all you can amount to?"
"...."
"There are only two acceptable outcomes," Vera continued. "Either your Iron Reinforcement never falters, or your body becomes durable enough that it doesn’t matter when it does. Until then, stand."
With a pained groan, Ilya slowly forced himself back onto his feet.
The boulder floated into the air once again.
"Again."
There was never any praise when he managed to endure an attack, no sympathy whenever he failed, and certainly no reduction in the intensity of her training.
Vera simply repeated the same command over and over again, forcing him to circulate his mana under constant pressure until maintaining Iron Reinforcement gradually stopped being a conscious technique and became an instinct ingrained in his body through sheer repetition.
But according to Vera, that was the point.
Iron Reinforcement consumed mana just like any other technique, and if she were ever going to teach him actual magic, then his control over mana had to become second nature long before that day arrived.
At least, that was the explanation she gave every time Ilya questioned why her idea of "training" looked suspiciously similar to attempted murder.
"I might die today..."
"That’s great."
Between studying during the day, enduring Vera’s brutal training every night, and fulfilling everything expected of him throughout the written examinations, the days went by in a flash before Ilya even had the chance to notice.
Before he knew it, the day had finally arrived.
For Ilya, it marked the beginning of what he considered the most dreadful examination the Knight Department had to offer.
"Today’s examination is simple. A knight whose body fails easily is nothing more than dead weight. Before we evaluate your swordsmanship, your judgment, or your resolve, we will first determine whether your body is worthy of being called a knight’s."
Standing at the front of the training grounds, the supervising instructor looked around the assembled first-years before speaking in a firm voice.
"The first examination for today is Iron Reinforcement Endurance. You will continuously circulate Iron Reinforcement while marching around the designated track. Every ten minutes, the instructors will gradually increase the magical pressure bearing down upon your bodies. The moment your Iron Reinforcement falters, you will be eliminated from the examination."
"It’s exactly as she said..."
Ilya couldn’t help but recall Vera’s words from several nights ago.
She hadn’t even tried to be subtle about it, admitting that she had taken a look at the Knight Department’s practical schedule before proceeding to tell him exactly what the examinations would be.
By any reasonable standard, that alone should have been grounds for dismissal.
"Whoa. You don’t look so good."
"Huh?"
Ilya turned his head. Standing there with her hands tucked behind her back was Helene.
Among everyone in their little group, she was the only one in the same class as him, which naturally meant she witnessed the full extent of his increasingly miserable appearance every morning.
"Your eye bags are awful," she said as she leaned in for a closer look. "What happened? Were you so nervous about today’s practical that you couldn’t sleep?"
She scrutinized his face for another moment before slowly shaking her head.
"...Actually, no. You’ve looked like a walking corpse since last week. I mean, you’ve always looked like a mess, but it’s somehow even more obvious now."
Ilya touched the dark circles under his eyes.
"...Really?"
"Yes, really. Forget the practicals. At this rate, you’ll fail because the examiners might mistake you for a patient who wandered out of the infirmary."
"I’ve just been a little busy..."
"I can see that." Helene gave him a small wave as she stepped back into line. "Well, good luck to both of us."
"You too."
A little later, the practical examinations officially began.
Monday’s examination was categorized under Body, the very first of the four pillars by which the Knight Department evaluated its students.
"Begin!"
Iron Reinforcement Endurance.
Hundreds of first-year students simultaneously circulated mana throughout their bodies before marching around the enormous training track.
At first, the exercise seemed almost laughably easy. Students chatted with one another with confident smiles, clearly believing the academy had gone easy on them for the opening examination.
Then ten minutes passed.
———!
A wave of magical pressure descended upon the field.
The conversations immediately died.
Ilya felt his shoulders grow heavier as though an invisible weight was pressing against his entire body.
Every step demanded more effort than before, forcing him to circulate additional mana to reinforce his muscles and bones.
Around him, several students gritted their teeth as the pressure continued mounting, adjusting their breathing in an attempt to conserve their mana.
Another ten minutes passed.
———!
The pressure intensified once more. A student several rows ahead suddenly stumbled.
"Adel Libreich! Eliminated!"
An instructor immediately escorted the exhausted student away.
One after another, more students began dropping out.
"...."
Ilya, meanwhile, remained silent.
Compared to having boulders repeatedly smashed into him while being forced to maintain Iron Reinforcement, this constant pressure felt merciful.
"...Huh."
Vera’s idea of "training" was actually paying off.
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