Isolde curled her lips into a devilish smile, the kind that made you question whether she had ever been sane to begin with.
"I might have just made your training hard enough to make you want to kill yourself," she said with a honeyed voice, "but since you two don't have the luxury of time, I need to make it hellish."
Not even slightly reassuring.
Even Mia, who had been doing a decent job pretending to be brave, turned to glance at me—eyes wide with dread and lips slightly parted as if to say, Are we seriously going through with this?
Then, as if trying to find an escape hatch, she turned to Isolde and gave her best angelic smile, a cheeky sparkle in her eyes. "Mother, I really don't enjoy physical training all that much. Studying was more my thing. So, how about I sit this one out, hmm? I'll be a good support from the sidelines."
'You traitor.' My eyes twitched.
This little gremlin was really going to leave me here to die alone? After everything? No way in hell.
Isolde raised a brow, looking momentarily thoughtful. For a second, I feared she might actually agree and let Mia off the hook.
That wouldn't do. No, as her dutiful younger brother, it was my solemn responsibility to drag her down with me.
I casually slid my hands into my pockets and sauntered toward them with an easygoing grin plastered on my face. "Miss Isolde," I began, projecting sincerity, "Mia was actually a top-tier scholar back in our world. Genius-level intellect, photographic memory, obsessive about perfection. I mean, if we really want to maximize the Lancaster family's strength, we should double her training."
Mia immediately shot me a death glare that could peel skin. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides.
Isolde, who'd looked like she was about to go soft a moment ago, turned to Mia with renewed mischief in her eyes. That familiar wicked spark danced in her gaze.
"Is that so?" she asked, placing a firm hand on Mia's shoulder. "Then, naturally, we'll have to craft a training regimen tailored specifically for such a prodigious mind. But even then she needs the mana training."
Mia's eyes widened, her face paling like she'd just been served a death sentence.
It was a beautiful moment.
A grin spread across my face before I could stop it. Blissful, pure, and utterly smug.
Before I could revel in the glorious euphoria of my small victory, Mia struck.
A swift, poorly executed kick to my shin.
Of course, her tiny legs didn't pack nearly enough power to do any real damage. I didn't even flinch. In fact, I leaned forward slightly and raised an eyebrow. "That tickled," I whispered just loud enough for her to hear.
Her glare intensified.
Isolde clapped her hands then, the sharp sound snapping us both to attention. "Okay, enough, you two madlads."
I stepped away from my tormented older sister and turned toward Isolde, posture straight, expression serious.
"Now," she announced, her voice filled with gleeful malice, "it's time for your training."
Both Mia and I nodded, though I could feel the tension crawling through my bones like a thousand tiny needles. Something told me that whatever she had planned, it was not going to be fun.
Mia asked the inevitable. "How exactly are we going to train?"
Isolde's eyes sparkled with delight—the kind that belonged on a sadist in a dungeon. "Simple," she said. "You're going to survive the dummies."
"…Survive?" I echoed, not liking the sound of that one bit.
"Of course," she repeated sweetly. "You will face off against them."
With that final, ominous declaration, Isolde raised her hands, her fingers glowing with that same eerie violet hue. Thin, glimmering threads unraveled from her palms like spider silk and shot forward, embedding themselves into the wooden dummies scattered across the arena. The threads pulsated, twitching like veins carrying mana-infused blood. One by one, the dummies jerked upright.
Their joints cracked. Wood groaned. And then—they looked at us.
Eyes—amethyst eyes—lit up on their carved faces, glowing with a faint malice that made my spine itch.
Isolde's voice rang out, soft yet commanding, echoing through the air like a god delivering judgment.
"Survive."
No other instructions. No handholding. Just survive.
The moment she said that, I instinctively moved, pushing Mia behind me with one arm as I braced myself. The nearest dummy lunged forward without hesitation, its wooden limbs unnaturally fast. I crossed my arms to shield myself—just in time.
CRACK.
The impact slammed into me like a sledgehammer made of stone and hatred.
A full-body shockwave ran through me, rattling my bones and knocking the air from my lungs. My feet left the ground before I even registered the force.
I was tossed like a sack of potatoes, flipping mid-air before landing hard, tumbling across the arena floor.
Dust filled my vision. Pain buzzed in my ribs.
"Ugh—damn it…" I coughed and tasted blood.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mia.
She was standing frozen, eyes wide, one hand clamped over her gaping mouth.
"M-Mia, move—!"
Too late.
Another dummy charged at her, its posture precise like a martial artist in mid-routine. It drove a wooden fist straight into her gut. Her eyes went wide, and she let out a strangled gasp before she was launched into the air like a kicked doll.
She sailed a few meters, limbs flailing helplessly, before crashing onto the stone floor with a thud that made me wince.
I pushed myself up with a groan, wincing as my muscles protested. Dirt clung to my clothes and blood trickled down my lip.
Despite it all, I turned toward Mia, pointed a trembling finger, and did the most brotherly thing I could think of in that moment:
I laughed.
A sharp, wheezing bark of a laugh. "Pfft—Hahaha! Look at you—got folded like a lawn chair!"
She was curled on the ground, hands still clutched around her stomach, groaning in pain. Even through her agony, she managed to glare at me like she was preparing my funeral arrangements.
Before she could respond, Isolde's voice sliced through the air like a whip.
"No distractions."
Her words held weight. The kind that promised punishment if disobeyed.
And right on cue—three dummies moved at once.
I turned, barely in time to see them sprinting toward me with alarming coordination. Their formation was tight, one flanking from the side while the other two went airborne, spinning with brutal momentum.
I raised my hands, ready to guard, but they struck like falling stars.
The first one landed a roundhouse kick square on my chest, the second caught me under the jaw with a rising knee, and the third axe-kicked me down from above.
I was lifted clean off the ground—again—and launched into the air like a goddamn beach ball.
Mid-air, time seemed to slow.
My body twisted, limbs trailing behind as I prepared for impact. But I wasn't going to let myself get ragdolled again.
[Physical Enhancement!]
Mana surged through me, pooling into my limbs. My skin glowed faintly as a membrane of raw energy wrapped around my body like reinforced armor. My muscles tensed, fueled by the buff.
I roared, bringing both feet down for a powerful air kick to slow my fall.
BOOM!
I hit the ground, my enhanced legs slamming into the arena tiles with force strong enough to leave spiderweb cracks.
Unfortunately—
It didn't work.
The shock didn't slow me—it just rebounded straight through my body.
Pain exploded in my shins.
"Aaagh—motherfu—!"
I crumpled onto my side, clutching my leg and grinding my teeth. All that flair. All that buildup.
And I just made it worse.
From the floor, I saw Mia still writhing where she'd fallen, glaring at me with watery eyes that screamed you deserve this.
Isolde, meanwhile, stood at the edge of the arena with her arms folded and a faint, amused smirk playing on her lips. "You two are doing wonderfully," she said, voice practically purring with wicked delight.
"Now…" She clapped her hands once.
"Let's increase the difficulty."
Ten more dummies stirred from their resting spots—taller, bulkier, and coated with faint armor plating. Their eyes didn't glow amethyst now.
They glowed crimson.
I glanced at Mia.
She glanced at me.
"…We are so dead," I muttered.
She just nodded in silent agreement.