The days blurred into one endless cycle of pain, sweat, and despair. The training dimension, once just a spacious rocky valley, had become our personal hell, where I served as the merciless taskmaster. The sun here never truly set, only dimmed to a crimson dusk before flaring back into a pale dawn—a perpetual day, devoid of rest and respite. The air was thick with the smell of dust, ozone from Akeno's magic, blood, and… fear. But this fear was different now—not the panicked terror of the inevitable, but a vicious, teeth-clenched determination to survive. To survive my training crucible.
Days 2-5
The first days were the hardest. The Occult Research Club members' bodies, unused to this level of strain and the constant pressure of my power, couldn't hold out. Muscles seized, magical reserves were depleted in mere hours, consciousness clouded with fatigue. Asia worked to the point of exhaustion, her twilight glow of Twilight Healing barely dimming as it flowed from one mangled body to the next. She herself grew paler and thinner by the day, but she stubbornly carried on, knowing that the others' ability to even stand for the next "round" depended on her.
I gave them no slack. My methods remained the same, but the intensity grew with each day.
Issei:
The stone storm I unleashed on him became denser and faster. I threw not just boulders, but sharp rock fragments, forcing him not just to dodge, but to literally dance under a hail of deadly projectiles. I demanded not only survival from him, but speed in building his power. "Boost! Boost! Boost!"—this cry became his mantra, his groan, his battle cry. I forced him to shoot at moving targets (rocks I tossed into the air), at multiple targets simultaneously, to do it while running, while jumping, immediately after a painful blow.
"Partner, a little more! Concentrate! Don't let him break you!" Ddraig roared, trying to support his wielder.
Issei fell, got up, fell again. His body was one massive bruise, but a stubborn fire was kindling in his eyes. Sometimes, at moments of extreme stress, red scales would begin to appear on his arm, beyond the gauntlet, spreading up his forearm. The first signs of the Scale Mail, brought on not by will, but by pain and desperation. That was interesting. It meant the pressure was working.
Kiba:
Our "dance" became more dangerous. I stopped just dodging. I started attacking. Not hard, but enough to be felt. Sharp raps on his hands to knock the sword away, shoves that sent him off balance, leg sweeps that made him lose his footing. I forced him to fight blind, to rely on intuition, on anticipation.
"You're still seeing me with your eyes, Knight!" I yelled, appearing behind him and striking the back of his neck. "Close them! Feel! Where am I? Where will I strike? Your swords are an extension of your will! They must attack not where I am, but where I will be!"
I provoked him, reminding him again and again of his fear of holy power, of his past.
"Use everything! Demonic blades! Holy! Mix them! Create your own style, don't just copy the textbooks! Otherwise, you're just a fast target!"
Kiba silently endured the blows, his face a mask of concentration. But I saw his hands tremble, saw the shadow of old pain flicker in his eyes. He was fighting not just me, but himself. And sometimes, in rare moments, he managed to predict my movement, to place a sword exactly where I was about to appear. These moments were fleeting, but they showed he was learning.
Akeno:
For her, I had become a living nightmare. My speed didn't give her a second to prepare a complex spell. I appeared from nowhere, attacked her defenses, forced her to waste magic on blocking, and then vanished, only to attack from another side a moment later.
"Precision, Priestess of Thunder! Precision!" I yelled, dodging a bolt of lightning that almost grazed me. "Your attacks are powerful, but sloppy! Strike with pinpoint accuracy! Strike fast! Don't give me time to react! Combine! Ice to slow! Fire to burn! Lightning to paralyze! You are a Queen! You must be versatile!"
I forced her to use close-quarters magic—energy blades, shockwaves, defensive fields. Things she rarely used, relying on her long-range power. I saw her elegant mask crack, saw that familiar sadistic spark light up in her eyes, mixed with desperation. She began to strike faster, more viciously; her attacks became less predictable. She still couldn't land a serious hit on me, but she was forcing me to move more actively. That was progress.
Koneko:
The Rook's training was direct and brutal. I found the largest boulders and made her lift them, hold them, and then hurl them with surgical precision at distant targets.
"Control, cat! Control!" I roared, when another boulder she threw shattered to pieces before reaching its target. "Your power isn't just destruction! It's also protection! You must be able to apply it precisely! Focus your Touki! Feel the weight! Feel the trajectory!"
I forced her not just to lift heavy things, but to move with them, to dodge my "accidental" attacks (stray stones or just shockwaves from my movements), all while maintaining control of her burden. I made her use her Senjutsu not just for focus, but to enhance her strikes, to create defensive fields around herself. Her stoicism began to show cracks. Sometimes she would hiss quietly in pain and fatigue, her small body trembling with strain. But she didn't give up. The stubbornness of a Nekomata was stronger than the pain.
Rias:
Our duel continued. Again and again, she attacked me with her Power of Destruction. Again and again, I stood, taking the blow on my palm, forcing her to concentrate her power, to strike with more precision, more speed.
"Is that all Gremory is capable of?!" I yelled, when her latest stream only managed to singe my skin. "Your fiancé Riser will just laugh at an attack like that! Where is the rage?! Where is the power of your house?! Do you want to save your freedom, or just go cry in a corner?!"
I saw her eyes turn bloodshot with fury. How her aura grew thicker, darker, more dangerous. She began to experiment—creating not just spheres, but beams, vortexes, explosive waves of destruction. She tried to strike not just with power, but with cunning, changing the attack's direction at the last second. A few times, she almost caught me off guard. Her control over the Power of Destruction was definitely growing. But so was her fatigue, her desperation. She understood that even her increased power might not be enough.
Asia:
She was the quiet guardian angel of this hellish training. Her hands were almost constantly glowing with a green light. She healed wounds, eased fatigue, restored magical reserves. But she took her share of the abuse, too. I didn't attack her directly, but I created chaos around her. Explosions nearby, flying shrapnel, shockwaves—it all forced her to work under pressure, to not lose concentration even when the ground was shaking beneath her feet. I saw her cry from fatigue and fear, but she continued to heal, her faith and duty proving stronger than her terror. She was growing stronger too, her spirit being forged in this crucible.
Days 6-8
By the middle of the training period, something began to change. The initial shock and despair were replaced by a grim, stubborn resolve. They got used to the pain. They got used to my pressure. They began to adapt.
Issei learned to build his Boosted Gear power much faster, even under a hail of stones. His Dragon Shots became more accurate, more powerful. The scales on his arm appeared more often, now covering his entire forearm—the Scale Mail was trying to emerge, but it wasn't enough, something was clearly missing for a full transformation. He was still clumsy and often took hits, but his stamina and fighting spirit had grown exponentially.
Kiba began to move differently. He was relying less on sight, more on intuition. His swords—both demonic and holy, which he finally began to use more boldly—appeared in the most unexpected places, creating a complex, dangerous web of attacks. He still lacked the speed to catch me, but he had learned to make me be more careful.
Akeno became a true fury. Her attacks were faster, more varied. She learned to switch between elements instantly, to combine lightning with ice, elemental energy with dark spells. She still couldn't breach my defenses, but her magical storm had become truly dangerous to any other opponent.
Koneko gained control. She learned not just to smash, but to direct her power. Her strikes became precise and devastating. She could hurl a multi-ton boulder with a sniper's precision. Her defense became stronger, her use of Senjutsu more confident. She was still silent, but a cold glint of confidence had appeared in her eyes.
Rias… Rias changed the most. Her Power of Destruction became more concentrated, faster, deadlier. She learned to form it not just into spheres, but into blades, shields, and energy traps. She still couldn't break my defense completely, but her attacks became so powerful that I felt real pressure, a real threat. The fury in her eyes was replaced by the cold resolve of a Queen, ready to do anything to protect her clan and her freedom.
Day 9
On the ninth day, I stopped the training earlier than usual. They were lying on the ground, breathing heavily, but without their former desperation. Their eyes showed ultimate exhaustion, but also… readiness.
"The game is tomorrow," I said, my voice even. "Rest today. Recover your strength. Asia, your work isn't finished."
I looked them over. Battered, exhausted, but not broken. They had been through hell. And they had survived. Had they become strong enough to beat Riser? Probably not. But they were definitely ready to give him a fight. A real fight.
"You're tougher," I admitted grudgingly. "You might even have a chance. One in a million. But it's there. Don't waste it."
I turned to leave.
"Izayoi!" Rias called out. I stopped. "Thank you."
I didn't turn around.
"It's nothing," I tossed over my shoulder.
I left the training dimension, leaving them alone with their thoughts, their fears, and their hopes. Ten days of hell had come to an end. The Rating Game was next. And I was curious to see what kind of show they'd put on.