Mornings didn't exist in Lust Ring only a shift in the neon haze from loud to less loud, bright to comfortably dim, depravity to exhaustion. I woke before everyone else. Not because I was rested.
Because I never truly stopped cultivating.
The Third Ring hummed inside my chest, refining scraps of SIN that saturated the air like invisible dust.
Even in dreams it worked, turning the ambient chaos of this district into cleaner Echo that strengthened my body grain by grain. Whenever I sat still, it cultivated. Whenever I walked, it cultivated. Whenever I observed, breathed, or existed, it cultivated.
Quiet. Constant. Patient.
The moment consciousness returned, the resonance circled through my veins in a slow pulse, a second heartbeat made of vibration and intent.
Today that heartbeat felt sharper more aware. I exhaled steadily, letting the pulse settle deeper.
Because today, for the first time, I would direct my cultivation toward someone else.
Alastor stirred in my mind, stretching out like a shadow waking from a pleasant dream. "Up you get, boy," he purred. "Your little soldiers won't sculpt themselves."
I rose from the mattress. Around the club, my recruits were beginning to rouse Liza rubbing sleep from her eyes, Skit rolling over like he'd fought with gravity all night, the nameless imp trying to fold the blanket into a perfect square and failing miserably. Dreg, unsurprisingly, was already awake, cracking his knuckles by the door like he'd slept with one eye open.
Quill leaned on the bar with his arms crossed, watching me with a lingering suspicion he never tried to hide.
He would notice things today things he wasn't supposed to but that was inevitable.
I adjusted my coat, inhaled, and let the Third Ring settle into a low vibration.
Active Resonance.
Alastor's voice curled through my mind with amusement. "Do keep it subtle. If they explode, you'll lose all the charm you've built."
I ignored him.
Formation, I said. Line up.
They scrambled into a row on the dance floor awkward, uneven, but trying. Trying mattered.
I walked in front of them, drawing in a slow breath.
This was it.
The first test.
I gathered the resonance in my chest not enough to reveal anything dramatic, but a thin, controlled pulse and let it spread outward as I spoke.
First: breath control. Follow my pace.
They inhaled.
And I released the faintest ripple into their lungs, aligning it with their breath. It was subtle so subtle they shouldn't have noticed, but I knew the moment it reached them.
Liza eyes widened slightly.
Dreg's muscles relaxed in a way that hinted at improved balance.
Skit blinked in confusion.
Even the unname imp stood a little straighter.
But Quill… Quill's tail flicked.
He didn't sense the resonance it was far beyond what demons could detect
but he felt the results.
"What are you doing?" he asked sharply.
Breathing exercises, I replied evenly.
"That's not how demons breathe during exercises."
"Maybe no one ever taught them properly."
Quill narrowed his eyes but didn't argue. Good.
Again.
They inhaled.
I resonated.
Their breaths synchronized in a rhythm that would feel impossible to any demon watching.
Alastor hummed in satisfaction. "Beautiful. They're harmonizing."
We moved to stances.
Feet apart. Weight balanced. Lower your posture.
Liza wobbled, Skit fell immediately, the imp froze in panic, and Dreg took to it naturally like a predator remembering its instincts.
I walked through them, adjusting their posture with controlled movements. Each time I corrected them, I released another wave tiny, intentional, guiding their bodies toward efficiency.
Their muscles adjusted.
Their balance improved.
Their breathing steadied.
Lira gasped softly. "It feels warm… like my chest is loosening."
Skit rubbed his arms. "My legs feel weirdly light."
Dreg frowned, flexing his hand. "Something's happening."
Quill stepped forward again. "Okay. Enough. What are you doing?"
I looked at him. Calm. Controlled.
Training.
"That's not training."
"Do you want stronger teammates or not?"
He hesitated. "…yes."
Then trust my method.
He huffed but stepped back.
That was enough.
The door creaked open, and a wiry demon with purple horns peeked inside nervous, twitchy, eyes darting everywhere.
Donnie.
Quill called him in. "He's the boss," he said, pointing at me.
Donnie straightened awkwardly. "S-sir! Are you hiring?"
Yes, I replied. Stable pay. Real training. A future. And safety if you earn it.
"Safety?" he repeated skeptically.
"Relatively."
Dreg snorted.
Donnie hesitated, then shuffled over to join the line.
We resumed training.
Breath.
Stance.
Balance.
Movement.
And through it all, my resonance soft, steady slid beneath their skin, stabilizing their heartbeats, encouraging their muscles to adapt, aligning their internal rhythms to a pattern I controlled and evolve their physique
Three hours passed.
Three brutal, unrelenting hours.
They sweated through their clothes.
They trembled.
They cursed.
They nearly collapsed.
And yet
They didn't break.
Liza completed a full set of stance holds.
Dreg pushed past limits he didn't know he had.
Skit held a balanced pose for eight seconds longer than at the start.
The imp stopped shaking entirely.
Donnie groaned loudly, wheezing through half-sobs:
"I hate it. I love it. I hate it. I think I love it."
Quill watched them really watched them.
Their movements.
Their reactions.
The small but undeniable physical improvements.
Finally he said, almost against his will:
"…this shouldn't be possible."
Not impossible, I corrected quietly. Just new.
He stared at me.
Suspicious.
Curious.
Maybe even impressed.
When training finally ended, all of them collapsed onto the floor but not in despair. They were exhausted, aching, trembling… and smiling.
For the first time, they believed they could change.
Alastor's whisper curled through my mind like a satisfied sigh.
"Well done. Thirty percent efficiency gain, I'd estimate. Tiny improvements, but real. And repeatable. This is the beginning, boy."
I looked at my recruits broken yesterday, stronger today, growing tomorrow.
The path forward had just opened.
And I would lead them step by step.
With resonance. discipline. intent.
This was only day one.