The training began in earnest the following morning. Jace had secured a more permanent location, a half-collapsed warehouse on the outskirts of the industrial district. The structure was technically condemned, which meant no one would bother them. The vast, empty space gave Kiri room to move, to test the limits of her newly restored body.
Jace sat cross-legged on a broken crate, his breathing laboured, his Constitution of 40 making every sustained effort feel like drowning in thick mud. He'd spent the last hour pushing his meagre Spirit stat to its absolute limit, feeding Kiri precise commands through their bond while simultaneously maintaining the contract's stability. The forced feedback was a constant, throbbing ache behind his eyes, a warning that he was operating dangerously close to Spirit collapse.
But the results were undeniable. Kiri moved through the warehouse like liquid light, her Speed stat of 295 translating into movements that blurred and refracted in the dusty air. She wasn't just fast. She was beginning to understand how to weaponize that speed, how to convert velocity into devastating striking power.
Jace watched her through half-lidded eyes, his Insight of the Tactician talent still dormant but his royal knowledge providing constant, instinctive feedback. Every movement Kiri made was analysed, catalogued, optimized. He could see the inefficiencies in her footwork, the wasted energy in her strikes, the hesitation in her transitions. But he could also see the raw, terrifying potential.
"Again," Jace commanded, his voice hoarse. "Target the support beam. Low strike, then high. Minimum energy expenditure, maximum impact transfer."
Kiri didn't respond verbally. She simply moved. Her form became a streak of celestial light, closing the distance to the rusted support beam in less than a second. Her first strike, a low sweep aimed at the beam's weakest structural point, connected with a sharp crack. The second strike followed instantly, a rising uppercut that transferred all her momentum into a single, focused point.
The beam shuddered, groaned, and then buckled. Not completely, but enough to demonstrate the effectiveness of the technique.
System: Beast Stats Updated
Beast: Kiri (Wingless Seraph)
Condition: High Rare Tier, Optimal Training State
Stats: Power 290, Spirit 295, Constitution 285, Speed 300
Jace's eyes widened. She'd broken through. Her Speed stat had hit the theoretical Rare Tier ceiling of 300. With the Royal Stat Floor's 20 to 30 percent advantage, her effective Speed was now somewhere between 360 and 390. She was moving at Low Epic speeds while still technically classified as a Rare Tier beast.
The forced feedback hit him like a hammer. The sudden stat increase created a violent spike in the contract's spiritual load. Jace gasped, his vision tunnelling, his entire body going rigid as the bond strained to accommodate Kiri's breakthrough. His Spirit of 45 was being crushed under the weight of sustaining a beast that was now performing far above its designated tier.
Kiri sensed the distress immediately. She stopped mid-movement, her form blurring back to Jace's side in an instant. "Master!"
Jace raised a trembling hand, forcing himself to breathe through the pain. The Prince's discipline was the only thing keeping him conscious. "I'm fine," he managed, though his voice was barely a whisper. "This is expected. Your stats are capped now. We can't push any further without triggering a rank-up, and I'm not strong enough to survive that process yet."
Kiri knelt beside him, her golden eyes filled with concern and something else. Guilt, perhaps. "You're hurting because of me. Because I'm growing stronger."
"That's how the contract works," Jace said, his breathing slowly stabilizing. "The stronger you become, the more strain it puts on my Spirit. But it's not a flaw. It's a feature. It means we're linked, truly linked. Your growth is my growth, eventually. I just need to catch up."
He pulled himself upright, every muscle in his body screaming in protest. His Constitution was woefully inadequate for this kind of sustained effort. He needed to improve, needed to push his own stats higher, or the next training session would kill him.
"We're done for today," Jace declared, more to himself than to Kiri. "You've hit the Rare Tier stat cap. Any further improvement requires me to increase my Spirit and Constitution significantly. That means forced cultivation and nutrient enhancement for me, not you."
Kiri studied him carefully. "And the Academy trials? How will we succeed if you're this weak?"
The question wasn't cruel. It was practical, clinical even. But it stung nonetheless. Jace met her gaze, allowing the cold fire of the Prince's pride to surface. "We succeed because I know exactly what the trials will test, and I know exactly how to exploit their weaknesses. Your raw stats are enough. My tactical knowledge will be enough. Together, we're more than enough."
He stood slowly, his legs unsteady. "But you're right to be concerned. I am weak. Pathetically weak. And that needs to change. The next three days are going to be dedicated to improving my stats, specifically my Spirit. I need to reach at least 60 to pass the first trial, and ideally closer to 70 to give us a buffer."
"How?" Kiri asked. "You said cultivation and nutrient enhancement. What does that involve?"
Jace's expression darkened. "Pain. A lot of pain. The Spirit stat is the most difficult to improve because it's tied directly to the soul's capacity. Forcing an expansion requires breaking down the existing spiritual channels and rebuilding them stronger. It's agonizing, dangerous, and there's a non-zero chance it could cripple me permanently if done incorrectly."
"Then don't do it," Kiri said immediately, her voice carrying an edge of command that surprised them both. "If the risk is that great, find another way."
Jace shook his head. "There is no other way. Not in the time we have. The Academy trials are in five days. I either push through the pain and succeed, or we both fail. And failure means conscription, debt slavery, and the end of everything we're trying to build."
He looked at her directly, his gaze unwavering. "I told you I wouldn't abandon you. That I'd get you your wings back. But that promise is only as strong as my ability to keep us both alive and moving forward. So yes, I'm going to risk permanent injury. Yes, I'm going to endure pain that will make the forced feedback feel like a gentle breeze. Because the alternative is giving up, and that's not an option."
Kiri was silent for a long moment. Then, slowly, she reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. The gesture was simple, but the intent behind it was profound. "Then I will protect you while you do this. If the pain becomes too much, if you begin to fail, I will be there to pull you back."
Jace felt a warmth spread through his chest, cutting through the cold tactical analysis of the Prince's mind. It was trust, freely given, without calculation or reservation. He'd earned this Seraph's loyalty not through dominance or coercion, but through shared suffering and honest intent.
"Thank you," Jace said quietly. "That means more than you know."
Kiri nodded once, then stepped back, her posture straightening into something more formal. "Then tell me your plan. What do you need me to do?"
Jace allowed himself a small, grim smile. "For now? Rest. Conserve your energy. Tomorrow, I begin the Spirit cultivation. It's going to take three days of sustained effort, and I'll need you to monitor my condition. If I start to destabilize, if the forced feedback threatens to collapse the contract, you need to sever the bond temporarily. It'll be painful for both of us, but it'll keep me alive."
"Sever the bond?" Kiri's expression shifted into alarm. "That could kill you. Or leave you unable to form contracts ever again."
"Only if done incorrectly," Jace countered. "But I'll teach you the proper technique. It's an old royal method, designed specifically for emergency situations where a summoner is about to be killed by their own contract's strain. My ancestors used it during critical battles when they needed to temporarily drop a dying beast to focus on survival."
He reached into his satchel and pulled out a small, leather-bound journal. It was one of the few possessions Jace had inherited from his previous failures, a mostly empty notebook meant for recording beast observations. Jace began sketching a complex diagram, his hand steady despite his exhaustion.
"This is the spiritual pattern you need to recognize," he explained as he drew. "If you see my aura start to fracture in this specific way, it means my Spirit is collapsing under the load. At that point, you need to pull your own spiritual energy back through the contract bond, creating a temporary buffer. It'll feel like tearing off a limb, but it'll stabilize me long enough for recovery."
Kiri studied the diagram carefully, committing it to memory. "And if I fail? If I'm too slow?"
"Then I die, you go feral from the sudden contract break, and we both end up as cautionary tales for desperate summoners." Jace's tone was matter-of-fact, devoid of drama. "But you won't fail. You're a Seraph. Your spiritual control is instinctive, bred into your very existence. You'll sense the danger before I do."
He closed the journal and handed it to her. "Keep this. Study the diagram tonight. Tomorrow, we begin the real work."
Kiri took the journal, holding it carefully as though it were a sacred text. "I will not fail you, Jace. I swear it on what remains of my wings."
The vow hung in the air between them, heavy with meaning. Jace felt the contract bond pulse with renewed strength, a reflection of Kiri's absolute conviction. She wasn't just agreeing to help. She was binding herself to his survival with the same intensity she'd bound herself to the goal of reclaiming her wings.
"Good," Jace said softly. "Then let's get some real rest. Tomorrow, the suffering begins in earnest."
They left the warehouse as the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the industrial district. Jace's body ached, his Spirit felt like shredded silk, and his Constitution was barely holding him upright. But for the first time since waking in this weak, debt-ridden shell, he felt something other than rage and shame.
He felt hope. Small, fragile, but undeniably real. The Seraph walking beside him wasn't just a weapon. She was proof that even the most broken things could be made whole again, given the right knowledge and the will to endure.
The Academy trials awaited. And Jace was determined to pass them, no matter the cost.