Rain continued falling across the incomplete dimension, washing over corpses and blood-soaked mud, the chemical drops creating patterns in pools of mixed human and creature blood.

Thunder rumbled distantly, a constant reminder that this place rejected their existence.

Around one hundred seventy students sat scattered across the battlefield in various positions of meditation, their breathing synchronized unconsciously, all of them focused on the same desperate task.

Recovering Aura.

Refilling reserves that had been depleted to nothing during the battle, during the terror and during the desperate struggle to survive against overwhelming numbers.

The silence was profound.

It was not the oppressive quiet that had preceded the creature attack and not the stunned shock that followed Damian’s demonstrations of power, but something approaching peace – the calm of people who’d accepted their situation and chosen to face it with determination rather than fear.

Nobles sat beside commoners without complaint.

Imperial heirs meditated among all students without maintaining distance.

The division hadn’t disappeared – centuries of social conditioning couldn’t be erased by one speech – but it had been suppressed, pushed down by the understanding that survival required unity rather than hierarchy.

Damian sat cross-legged in his chosen spot, his breathing exercises pulling microscopic amounts of ambient Aura from the atmosphere, the process excruciatingly slow but steady.

His reserves were still nearly empty despite the time spent recovering, the Channel Shot technique having drained him so completely that full restoration was taking a lot of time.

But his external appearance showed none of this.

Just calm meditation, controlled breathing, the image of someone powerful and unbothered by the carnage surrounding them.

After what felt like hours – though time was difficult to track in this place where the sky never changed – Damian opened his eyes.

His crimson eyes swept across the battlefield, assessing, calculating and noting positions and conditions.

’At least no one’s causing trouble anymore.’

The thought emerged with something approaching satisfaction as he observed students maintaining formation even in meditation, some watching the perimeter despite exhaustion, others helping injured teammates without being asked. 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

’It seems the speech worked. Fear of what I’ll do to them if they betray each other is keeping them cooperative. Good. Fear is simpler than trust and far more reliable in crisis situations.’

His eyes continued scanning, noting the Imperial heirs had positioned themselves at cardinal points around the formation – Cassius north, Jonathan south, Ben east, Raymond west – creating a defensive perimeter even while recovering.

Smart and professional.

The kind of tactical thinking that suggested they were taking this seriously now rather than treating it like an extended training exercise.

William Greene sat among commoner students, his face showing determination mixed with exhaustion, his hands still occasionally clenching into fists as residual rage from Damian’s speech continued burning.

Edrin had positioned himself where he could observe the entire formation, his mind probably running scenarios even while meditating, calculating survival odds and resource management.

Zavier sat closest to where Lysa should have been, his spear across his lap, ready to move despite his depleted state.

But Lysa wasn’t there.

Damian’s eyes found her standing alone at a distance from the group, her back turned toward everyone, her small frame silhouetted against the dark grey sky.

She was looking into the fog where thunder rumbled and lightning crackled horizontally, rain soaking through her combat uniform, her brown hair plastered to her head and neck.

Just... standing.

Lost in thoughts that isolated her from the others despite being surrounded by so many people.

Damian stood up silently, his movement making no sound despite the mud, his approach completely soundless.

But Lysa’s sensory skill detected him anyway – the subtle shift in air currents, the displacement of rain, the familiar Aura signature that she’d learned to recognize instantly.

She didn’t flinch and didn’t turn.

Didn’t even acknowledge his presence with any visible reaction.

Just continued staring into the distance like she was trying to see something beyond the fog and rain.

Damian stopped beside her, standing shoulder-to-shoulder though she was shorter, both of them looking into the oppressive grey expanse of this hostile dimension.

For a long moment, neither spoke.

Just stood together in the rain, two people sharing space without needing to fill it with words.

Then Damian’s voice emerged quietly, conversational despite the thunder.

"Are you sad?"

The question was direct, lacking the gentle phrasing most people would use when asking about emotions.

But somehow the bluntness made it more sincere.

Lysa’s lips curved into a smile that carried no joy, just bitter acknowledgment of something she’d been trying to hide.

"Is it that obvious?"

Her voice was small, barely audible over the rain, carrying weight that suggested the sadness ran deeper than surface observation could detect.

Damian smiled slightly, the expression invisible to her since she wasn’t looking at him.

"Not really. Your mask is better than most people realize. But if there’s something I understand the most, it would be negative emotions."

The words seemed to carry certainty born from experience, as if from someone who’d spent a lifetime reading people’s fears and using them.

Lysa stayed quiet, her eyes still fixed on distant thunder.

Then–

"Ow!"

She flinched as Damian’s hand moved with casual speed, plucking a single strand of her brown hair and pulling gently but deliberately.

Her hand came up to rub the spot, confusion breaking through her melancholy.

"Why did you do that?"

Damian’s fingers played with the hair strand, twirling it absently, his voice carrying amused patience.

"Well... out with it. Why are you sad?"

Lysa sighed, shaking her head slowly, rain running down her face like tears.

"You wouldn’t understand."

PINCH.

Damian’s hands shot out, grabbing both her cheeks and pulling them outward with the casual cruelty of someone playing with a younger sibling.

"Ow! Boss!"

Lysa’s protest emerged muffled through stretched cheeks, tears forming in her eyes from the sudden pain mixed with indignation.

"What are you doing?! Why are you treating me like a child?!"

Damian continued stretching her cheeks, his smile widening with genuine amusement.

"Well, because you are a child."

"I’m the same age as you!"

Her voice came out distorted, the words barely comprehensible through her manipulated face, her hands coming up to try and pry his fingers away.