The next day arrived with one immediate improvement.
G6 finally had something decent to wear.
Inside the secured I.W.A.S. storage room behind the Royal Collegium library, she stood before the wall mirror and finished fastening the clothing she had claimed the day before.
A black, long-sleeved top fitted closely through her torso, its high collar sitting comfortably against her throat. The trousers were equally dark, practical enough to move in without fabric gathering around her legs, while the sturdy black boots had been tightened with considerably more care than she had ever given Reise's decorative heels.
The garments were not modern.
The stitching was different. The materials belonged entirely to this world, and there was nothing tactical about them in the military sense G6 knew.
But the design understood movement.
That alone made them familiar.
G6 crouched slightly and tested the give of the trousers.
She rotated one shoulder.
Then the other.
Nothing pulled. Nothing threatened to tear.
She adjusted the belt next.
Rather than letting it sit uselessly around her waist, she arranged the straps in the harness-like configuration she preferred, tightening the small buckles until everything sat securely against her body.
Her motions were automatic.
Boots. Fabric. Straps.
Range of motion.
Nothing ornamental entered the process.
This was not dressing.
It was preparation.
She straightened before the mirror.
For once, the woman reflected there wore something G6 recognized.
Reise Worthon's face remained unchanged.
Rose-gold hair. Grey eyes. Pale skin.
The same delicate features that had greeted G6 since waking in this world.
But stripped of elaborate noble gowns and decorative styling, the reflection felt less foreign.
G6 gathered the heavy rose-gold length behind her head.
The hair still reached exactly to her waist when loose, which was far more material than she wanted flying around during training.
She twisted it upward and secured it into a messy, firm knot.
Loose enough not to pull painfully against the scalp.
Tight enough to stay in place.
More importantly, the arrangement concealed the small chained-rose tattoo hidden behind her right ear.
The final addition was a pair of simple utilitarian clip earrings.
No jewels hanging against her neck. No flowers. No glittering nonsense.
G6 regarded the result.
A faint satisfaction settled across her expression.
"Now this does not feel strange."
That was enough.
She picked up her Professional Card and tapped it against the secured panel.
The hidden door released with a quiet mechanism.
When G6 stepped out, four people were waiting.
Tina looked first.
Then Edmund.
Then Lilia.
Brenda was standing slightly farther back.
For several seconds, no one spoke.
Not because G6 had somehow transformed into another person.
She had not.
The same rose-gold hair remained pinned above the same unmistakable Worthon face.
But the clothing changed how she carried herself.
Nothing restricted her stride.
Nothing forced her shoulders into decorative posture.
There was a practical ease to her movements now, sharpened by the cold, unreadable expression that had become increasingly familiar over the last several days.
Brenda blinked.
Then blinked again.
"My… my lady," she stammered before correcting herself. "Lady Reise. You look… remarkably suited."
Her attention stayed a fraction too long.
G6 noticed.
Of course she did.
The previous day had already given her enough information to recognize what happened whenever Brenda encountered the Worthon face with the wrong amount of confidence attached to it.
G6 offered a brief, calculated smile.
Useful reactions were worth reinforcing.
"The attire suits you exceedingly well, Lady Reise," Edmund agreed.
Unlike Brenda, his response carried more open appraisal than embarrassment. His gaze moved over the boots, trousers, and fitted top as though reconsidering several assumptions about what exactly Lady Reise intended to do inside the Bastion.
Tina adjusted her glasses.
Her eyes traveled from the harnessed belt to the securely tied hair.
Then she gave one slow nod.
Approval.
Lilia tilted her head.
"Lady Reise! You look so good! You look… beautifully handsome?"
G6 let out a short, amused scoff.
"Then let us go."
She was already moving when she paused near Brenda.
G6 glanced over her shoulder.
The faint smirk returned.
"See you around, Bre."
Brenda's composure slipped for just a second.
G6 continued walking.
Behind her, Tina looked toward Brenda.
Then at G6.
Then wisely decided not to involve herself.
「BASTION OF PHALANX」
The Bastion was already active when G6 arrived.
Some knights moved between corridors with reports tucked beneath their arms. Clerks carried sealed documents between adjoining offices. Uniformed personnel crossed the main receiving hall in small groups, some already dressed for duty while others appeared to be finishing the administrative work that preceded whatever training or assignment waited for them.
G6's arrival drew attention.
Not enough to bring the entire department to a halt.
But enough.
A few conversations faltered.
Several heads turned.
One knight wearing bronze plating looked twice.
Another whispered something to the clerk beside him.
"Is that Lady Reise?"
"I heard a rumor…"
"Those are training clothes?"
"That is a Worthon?"
G6 ignored them.
The clothing itself was apparently enough to cause scandal.
Predictable.
"Where is the training ground, Edmund?"
Edmund stepped forward.
"This way, my lady."
A habitual slip.
His expression changed immediately.
"Lady Reise. The stairwell leads to the open arena."
G6 gave him a brief look but did not bother correcting him further.
He was trying.
Good enough.
Edmund led them through one of the Bastion's interior corridors toward a broad stone archway away from the administrative rooms.
Beyond it, the architecture changed.
A descending staircase cut downward beneath the building's ground level.
The air grew cooler as they followed it.
Then daylight appeared ahead.
G6 slowed.
The stairway opened onto the upper edge of an enormous sunken arena.
For the first time since entering the Bastion, genuine interest sharpened her face.
The Training Arena stretched below like a military amphitheater carved into the earth.
A vast oval floor of pale, packed sand occupied the center, wide enough for formations of knights, large-scale sparring, combat drills, and destructive magical practice without immediately turning the entire space into rubble.
There was no roof.
Open sky stretched above the arena.
Stone tiers rose around the sunken floor, forming multiple levels of elevated bleachers overlooking the grounds from nearly every side. Several access stairs cut between the seating sections, descending toward the sand.
Nothing about the place suggested administration.
No offices. No decorative lounges. No unnecessary civilian traffic.
This place existed for training.
That, G6 understood.
She looked across the broad empty ground.
They were early. Very early.
Two hours before the higher-ranked personnel were scheduled to begin using the arena.
Perfect.
This was not a social call.
She had an objective.
Establish the body's limits.
Learn what this world considered combat.
Then improve.
G6 turned toward the others.
"Lilia, Tina. Return to the office. Edmund stays."
Tina's expression changed immediately.
"But, my lady—"
"Do not make me repeat myself."
The words were flat.
Final.
Tina stopped.
Lilia, sensing that resistance would accomplish nothing, gently touched Tina's arm.
"If that is your wish, we shall prepare refreshments for your return."
Her attempt at diplomacy earned a brief glance from G6.
Edmund inclined his head.
"Do not worry. I shall ensure our lady wants for nothing."
Tina looked between the two of them.
She clearly disliked the arrangement.
But after several days with G6, she had begun learning when an argument was merely an argument and when a decision had already been made.
"Very well."
She gave a curt bow.
Lilia waved before following her back toward the stairway.
G6 watched until both disappeared beyond the upper arch.
Then she turned toward the arena floor.
No hesitation. No ceremony.
She descended the remaining steps and stepped onto the sand.
The surface shifted beneath her boots.
Stable enough.
G6 rolled her shoulders.
Then began stretching.
Neck. Arms. Wrists. Back. Hips. Legs.
Every movement was practiced and deliberate.
The body responded.
But not well.
There was stiffness where Akira's body would have given easily.
A faint pull through muscles that should not have considered basic mobility particularly demanding.
G6 ignored the irritation and rotated one wrist again.
"So, Edmund."
Edmund, who had remained a respectful distance away, straightened.
"Yes, Lady Reise?"
"Where did you really go when you vanished from the villa?"
Edmund froze.
The question struck without warning.
G6 looked at him.
No smile. No accusation.
Just that cold, unreadable stare that gave the uncomfortable impression she had already reached a conclusion and was waiting to see whether he would insult her by lying.
It is as though she already knew the answer, Edmund thought.
"Uhm… whatever do you mean?"
G6 continued stretching one shoulder.
"You told me most adventurers are proficient in PhyEn, no?"
"Y-yes…"
"Are you an adventurer, Edmund?"
His expression shifted.
G6 stopped stretching.
"When we first met, you may appear clean. But your calluses and scratches are obviously from a fight."
She crossed her arms.
"You used my seclusion as an excuse to slip away and enjoy your… filtered life."
Edmund stared at her.
His mind immediately returned to the first time she had properly looked at him.
The scratches.
His hands. His movements.
He had assumed none of it mattered.
Apparently, she had catalogued everything.
G6 watched his silence.
She did not know every detail.
She did not need to.
The physical evidence had been enough to form the suspicion.
His reaction was enough to strengthen it.
"I will keep it a secret."
Edmund's eyes narrowed slightly.
He was not naïve enough to interpret that as generosity without cost.
"What is the condition, Lady Reise?"
A slow smile formed on G6's lips.
"You will know. When the time is right."
Edmund stared.
That was somehow worse.
Was this why she sent the others away? Edmund thought.
He had spent days assuming Lady Reise had barely noticed him.
Instead, she had apparently been watching closely enough to identify a private life he had deliberately kept out of palace conversation.
That was unsettling.
And impressive.
G6 turned away.
Their conversation is finished.
Without another word, she began to run.
Not quickly.
Not at first.
The arena was too large for stupidity.
She settled into a controlled pace around the perimeter of the sandy ground, testing stride length and breathing rather than attempting to prove anything to herself.
Her form remained efficient.
That was the frustrating part.
The knowledge was there.
Posture. Breathing rhythm.
Foot placement. Weight distribution.
Years of conditioning had taught G6 exactly how to conserve energy.
But this body had not lived those years.
After enough distance, her breathing began deepening sooner than it should have.
Heat gathered beneath her skin.
The legs remained obedient, but the effort required to keep them that way annoyed her.
Edmund remained near the arena entrance, watching her pass.
Her stride was not especially powerful.
Not yet.
But it was disciplined.
Every step looked intentional.
No wasted motion.
No confusion about how to pace herself.
Nothing about it resembled the casual exercise of a noblewoman who had suddenly decided she wished to become healthier.
What exactly are you? Edmund thought as G6 continued along the perimeter.
He received no answer.
❈.❈.❈
Lord Keith entered the Bastion nearly an hour earlier than necessary.
He whistled as he crossed the first-floor hall, greeting familiar personnel with easy nods.
"A full hour early. Perfect."
He was rarely enthusiastic about arriving early for anything.
Today was different.
Reise had promised training.
Technically, she had demanded information and then thrown him out of her office.
But Lord Keith had chosen to interpret that as partnership.
It sounded better.
"Wonder if she is here."
He changed direction toward G6's office.
The door opened beneath his hand without so much as a knock.
Tina and Lilia immediately looked up.
Both were seated on the couches.
Tina had a tray beside her while Lilia was arranging cups and food with far too much concentration for someone her age.
For a moment, the room went silent.
Lord Keith looked at them.
They looked at him.
Then Tina stood so quickly that Lilia copied her by reflex.
"Good morning, Lord De Lune. Lady Reise is already at the training ground."
Lord Keith blinked.
"Already?"
A wide grin spread across his face.
"Ah. Later, then."
He closed the door.
Tina stared after him.
Lilia slowly sat down again.
Neither commented.
Lord Keith was already walking toward the arena access.
❈.❈.❈
The internal staircase descended beneath the Bastion.
Lord Keith took the steps quickly.
By the time daylight opened ahead, he could already hear movement from the arena below.
At the upper archway, he found Edmund standing off to one side.
"Edmund! Where is she? Sitting around waiting for me?"
Edmund gave him a look.
Then gestured toward the training floor.
Lord Keith followed the motion.
His smile faded into surprise.
G6 was on the sand.
She was finishing a set of push-ups.
Sweat had darkened portions of the black training top and dampened loose strands of rose-gold hair around her temples. The secure knot remained intact despite the exercise.
But that was not what caught his attention.
Her form did.
There was no uncertain shifting of weight.
No shaking beginner's elbows.
No awkward attempt to imitate movements taught by an instructor.
Every repetition followed the same controlled line.
Hands planted correctly.
Core stable.
Breathing timed.
The problem was not knowledge.
The problem was endurance.
He could see the strain beginning to appear despite how carefully she controlled it.
"Is that… her?"
His voice came out lower than usual.
G6 completed the repetition and sat back on her heels.
Sand clung to the knees of her trousers.
She did not care.
Edmund walked toward her carrying a towel and water.
Lord Keith followed.
"Lady Reise."
Edmund offered the towel.
"Thanks."
G6 wiped the sweat from her face.
Then she noticed Lord Keith.
"Oh, you are here."
The greeting was so casual it might as well have been five minutes since their last conversation.
Lord Keith looked her over.
The words came out before judgment arrived.
"You look hot… I mean, hot, in those clothes."
He grinned.
G6 continued wiping her face.
"I know I am hot."
Flat. Completely unapologetic.
Lord Keith's grin widened.
There was no way to tell whether she had deliberately interpreted him incorrectly or understood perfectly and simply refused to care.
Probably both.
He sat directly on the sand near her, drawing one knee upward.
He had heard enough warnings about Reise's new personal-space habits to know better.
Naturally, that made him curious.
"So? Are we starting?"
G6 turned.
Their faces ended up far closer than Lord Keith had anticipated.
Edmund's expression tightened.
"I am…" G6 whispered.
Lord Keith waited.
G6 leaned forward.
Her forehead struck his.
Not hard.
Just enough.
Lord Keith yelped and fell backward onto the sand.
"…not too close, perv."
G6 stood.
She handed the towel back to Edmund and took the water bottle.
One long drink.
Then she pointed it toward the two men.
"You two. Spar. Show me."
Edmund blinked.
"Pardon, Lady Reise?"
"It is not a problem, right?"
It was phrased as a question.
Nobody present mistook it for one.
Edmund released a quiet breath.
Then removed his watch.
He loosened his tie and rolled his shoulders.
Lord Keith climbed back to his feet, brushing sand from his clothing.
The teasing expression remained, but something brighter had entered his eyes.
Interest.
"Edmund, practice swords are in that closet."
While Edmund went to retrieve them, G6 lowered herself onto one of the stone benches near the arena edge.
Her lungs were still recovering from exercise she would once have considered barely worth mentioning.
Fuck. In my old body, this would have been a warm-up.
This body is pathetic.
She leaned forward slightly, forearms resting over her thighs.
The irritation was not emotional.
It was technical.
She knew exactly what she should be capable of.
The body disagreed.
Lord Keith approached.
This time, he stopped at a respectful distance.
Progress.
"Hey."
G6 glanced up.
Lord Keith's expression had changed.
The joking was still there, but subdued beneath genuine observation.
"Those moves… that is not standard noble training. Where did you learn that?"
G6 stared at him.
He is more observant than he acts.
Good. A stupid partner is a liability.
The question was direct.
A bad lie would only invite another.
She took another drink.
Play it off. Not a lie, but not the truth.
Something they can swallow.
"Where does anyone learn discipline?" she finally said, her voice cool. "From being bored out of your mind for eighteen years in a gilded cage. You find ways to pass the time."
She gestured toward the arena.
"This just happens to be more productive than arranging flowers or sighing over portraits."
Lord Keith studied her.
It was plausible.
Reise had spent years trapped beneath expectations, isolated within noble estates and palace residences, surrounded by etiquette severe enough to turn rebellion into a private hobby.
It explained enough.
Not everything.
Lord Keith's expression softened into a smile.
His curiosity remained.
"Well, it is a hell of a way to pass the time."
Edmund returned carrying two practice rapiers.
G6 stood.
"Do not be impressed yet."
She looked toward the weapons.
"Save it for when you show me something that actually impresses me."
Her gaze moved toward the open center of the arena.
"Now, get to it. I do not have all day."
❈.❈.❈
Edmund accepted the practice rapier.
Its weight settled naturally into his hand.
Lord Keith took the other.
They moved several paces apart over the packed sand.
The joking atmosphere disappeared almost immediately.
Edmund adjusted his footing first.
One foot forward.
Shoulders squared.
Rapier aligned toward Lord Keith's centerline.
Lord Keith took a looser stance, weight resting lightly through the balls of his feet, blade angled rather than presented directly.
"Do not hold back, Edmund. The lady wants a show."
"I would not dream of it, my lord."
Edmund inhaled.
Mana moved.
There was no theatrical explosion of light.
Instead, the change appeared through his body.
His posture strengthened.
The sand compressed beneath his boots as tension gathered through his legs and torso.
"Full-Body Enhancement." Edmund.
G6's eyes sharpened.
Lord Keith followed.
His own enhancement concentrated differently.
Less emphasis on brute reinforcement.
More through the legs, arms, eyes, and reaction pathways needed for speed and precision.
"Speed and Focus." Keith.
G6 leaned slightly forward.
There.
Different applications.
Same system.
The two men moved.
Edmund attacked first.
His rear foot drove hard into the sand.
Distance vanished.
The rapier thrust directly toward Lord Keith's center with explosive force.
"Piston Drive!"
Simple. Linear. Fast.
Lord Keith did not contest it head-on.
He pivoted off the attack line, body turning just enough to let the thrust pass while his rapier snapped across Edmund's blade.
Wood struck wood.
CRACK!
The deflection redirected the thrust rather than stopping its momentum.
Lord Keith followed the motion.
His wrist rolled.
The blade circled back toward Edmund through a tight returning arc.
"Rippling Counter!"
Edmund recovered quickly.
He stepped through.
Another thrust.
Lord Keith shifted.
Parried.
Countered.
The sand beneath them scattered with every sudden acceleration.
Their weapons cracked repeatedly through the open arena.
Edmund pressed forward.
Lord Keith yielded ground without truly retreating, turning each defensive movement into preparation for the next counter.
G6 did not move.
Her eyes followed everything.
Foot placement. Shoulder tension.
Blade angle. Recovery time.
Mana use. Breathing.
Subject: Edmund.
Style: overwhelming force. Physical Enhancement applied broadly. Strong acceleration. Direct attack patterns.
Another exchange.
Edmund lunged.
Lord Keith barely cleared the line.
Recovery opens after committed thrust.
Predictable when pressured.
Her attention shifted.
Subject: Keith.
Duelist. Enhancement favors speed, reaction, precision.
Lord Keith pivoted beautifully around Edmund's blade.
Economical when serious.
Then he added an unnecessary flourish while creating distance.
G6's eyes narrowed.
Still wastes movement when showing off.
Not weaknesses carved permanently into stone.
Patterns. Current openings.
Enough.
She had watched.
Now she needed to know whether her own principles survived contact with this world's magic.
G6 stood.
Something responded inside her.
<
There was no visible transformation.
No glowing aura.
No surge that anyone watching could identify.
The change was subtler.
Her breathing corrected first.
Then posture.
Balance.
The tiny physical compensations she had been making for Reise's underconditioned muscles reorganized themselves into more efficient patterns.
Nothing became stronger.
Nothing healed.
The ache from training remained.
But waste disappeared.
Every trained instinct G6 had spent years engraving into herself suddenly translated more cleanly through the unfamiliar body.
The result was dangerous precisely because the body could now be driven with far greater precision than it had ever been conditioned to endure.
G6 noticed immediately.
Every detail of the spar became clearer.
Not magically known.
Readable.
A tremor in Lord Keith's wrist before he redirected.
The distribution of Edmund's weight before another committed thrust.
The delay between force generation and recovery.
G6's gaze cooled.
Useful.
The spar ended seconds later.
Edmund drove forward.
Lord Keith shifted outside the thrust.
His blade slipped around the guard and tapped Edmund cleanly against the ribs.
Edmund stopped.
Lord Keith stepped back.
"A fine match, Edmund!"
He was breathing harder now but still grinning.
Edmund lowered his practice weapon and inclined his head.
"Indeed. Your skill is as sharp as ever."
They turned toward the bench.
Empty.
Lord Keith's smile faded.
G6 stood several paces away.
A third practice rapier rested in her hand.
Neither man had seen her retrieve it.
Her grip drew Edmund's attention first.
No decorative noble stance.
No tentative fingers.
The weapon sat naturally in her hand, aligned as though she had spent years learning exactly how much pressure was required to turn a blade into an extension of the wrist.
"My turn."
Lord Keith stared.
"Reise, these can still bruise—"
"I am aware of their function."
She looked toward Edmund.
"Edmund. You first."
Edmund visibly recoiled.
"My lady, I must protest—"
"Your protest is noted. Now, attack me. Use your Piston Drive."
Edmund stopped.
His eyes widened.
She had remembered the name.
Of course she had.
He glanced toward Lord Keith.
Lord Keith's expression had gone serious.
Edmund swallowed.
"Very well."
He reset his stance.
He had no intention of using the technique at full force.
A controlled version would be enough.
He stepped.
Mana reinforced his movement.
"Piston Drive!"
Edmund surged forward.
<
G6 moved.
Not backward.
Forward.
Her lead foot cut diagonally inside the line of his thrust.
The rapier passed beside her instead of through her.
For a fraction of a second, Edmund's arm was extended and his wrist exposed.
G6's blade moved.
One precise tap.
Right against the nerve cluster.
Edmund's fingers opened involuntarily.
The practice rapier dropped into the sand.
THUD.
He stared at his hand.
Numb.
Then at G6.
She had not overpowered him.
She had barely used force at all.
Timing had done the work.
G6 turned her head.
"Keith."
Lord Keith's playful smile was gone.
"Your Rippling Counter. Now."
He did not argue.
He raised his weapon.
Moved.
His first attack was deliberately deceptive.
A straightforward approach that folded into the same returning arc he had used against Edmund.
<
G6's perception sharpened.
Time did not slow.
Lord Keith remained fast.
But information arrived faster.
The rotation beginning through his shoulder.
The angle changing through his wrist.
His center of gravity shifting as the counter committed.
To G6, the movement seemed stretched enough to read.
She did not block.
Reise's body had no business absorbing Lord Keith's enhanced strike directly.
Instead, G6 leaned backward.
The practice blade passed within millimeters of her nose.
Lord Keith's own momentum carried him forward.
G6 stepped once.
A short movement.
Nothing dramatic.
When Lord Keith recovered, the blunt tip of G6's practice rapier rested against his throat.
He froze.
The entire exchange had taken less than two seconds.
Silence settled over the arena.
G6 lowered the weapon.
Analytical satisfaction replaced the intense focus in her eyes.
<
The consequence arrived immediately.
Fatigue struck through her body like a system failure.
Her legs weakened.
The muscles through her shoulders and back suddenly felt far heavier than they had moments before.
Her pulse accelerated.
G6 locked her knees.
Neither man noticed.
Good.
"I see," she said, almost to herself.
She looked down at the practice sword.
"The principles are transferable."
Then she dropped it into the sand.
G6 looked at Edmund and Lord Keith.
"Thank you for the demonstration. That will be all for today."
Lord Keith stared.
"That is—"
G6 was already turning away.
Conversation over.
❈.❈.❈
Her heart was hammering.
Not from the short exchanges themselves.
Something deeper had gone wrong.
The moment Perfect Assassin Form and the other skills disappeared, the body seemed to understand exactly what G6 had forced it to do.
Every muscle felt overworked.
Not injured.
Worse.
Drained.
A hollow weakness spread through her limbs, turning each movement heavier than the last.
Shit.
She kept walking.
It does not drain mana; it burns through the body's fuel.
The difference mattered.
Mana was still there.
She could feel it.
The enormous reserve had not vanished.
But the physical structure carrying it was failing.
This body is junk. Cannot handle the software.
G6's jaw tightened.
Annoying.
Very fucking annoying.
But useful information, now she knew.
The skills could translate Akira's training.
They could optimize it.
Push it.
Sharpen execution beyond what Reise's conditioning should reasonably allow.
But they could not erase the fact that the muscles, lungs, tendons, and nerves underneath all of it had never been trained for that output.
She had essentially driven a pristine weapon system through a frame that had never survived field testing.
Wonderful.
G6 reached the edge of the sandy arena.
The internal access stairs waited ahead.
She did not look backward.
Weakness was information.
Information could be exploited.
Lord Keith and Edmund were not getting any.
Not today.
She began climbing.
One step.
Then another.
The sunken arena fell gradually beneath her as she forced herself toward the Bastion entrance above.
Her breathing remained measured.
Mostly.
By the time she passed beneath the upper archway and reentered the Bastion building, the weakness had spread into her hands.
Her fingers felt distant.
G6 flexed them once.
Response delayed.
This is bad
She continued.
The first-floor corridor stretched ahead.
Farther than it had earlier.
She crossed into the main hall.
Personnel moved around her.
A clerk passed.
Two knights turned.
G6 did not acknowledge either.
Her expression remained flat.
Controlled.
Nothing to see.
The world tilted slightly.
Then corrected.
Her vision blurred at the edges.
Grey static.
She focused ahead.
The grand staircase leading to the Bastion's second-floor office wing stood across the hall.
Her office waited above.
Private. Door. Couch.
Extraction point.
Hold on until I reach the goddamn office.
She reached the first step.
The staircase looked considerably taller than it had yesterday.
G6 gripped the cold stone railing.
One foot upward.
Then another.
Her legs obeyed because she ordered them to.
Halfway up, a wave of dizziness struck hard enough to erase the next step from her vision.
Her knee buckled.
G6 tightened her hand around the railing.
Missed.
Her fingers slipped.
This is so uncomfortable.
The thought surfaced with almost insulting understatement.
Something about the sensation felt familiar.
Childhood training.
Being pushed until muscle stopped responding.
Standing because falling had never been considered an acceptable option.
But this was different.
Back then, Akira's body had eventually adapted.
This one had barely begun.
G6's balance disappeared.
She fell backward.
Before her body could strike the staircase, strong arms caught her.
The movement stopped instantly.
G6 registered fragments.
Black fabric. Heat.
A faint scent she could not place through the dizziness.
Her head was too heavy to lift.
The last of her strength vanished all at once.
For the first time that morning, her expression lost its disciplined neutrality.
Not because she chose to relax it.
Because there was no strength left to maintain anything.
Her body went limp.
Consciousness disappeared.
And whoever had caught her was left holding the full dead weight of Reise Worthon in their arms.
—To Be Continued…—