Chapter 213: Time begins to pass.

The night fell differently the next day.

There was no cheerful song of the insects at the beginning, nor the usual constant rustling of the leaves. The forest seemed… restrained. As if it were watching back.

Damon realized this even before reaching the training spot.

The sky was clear, but moonless. The stars appeared timidly, distant, and the darkness between the trees was deep enough to swallow shapes and sounds. He felt everything—not as numbers yet, but as a diffuse presence, a gentle pressure against his perception.

Esther was already there.

Alone.

The spear remained stuck in the ground, but, unlike the mornings, she wasn’t motionless. She walked slowly among the trees, touching trunks, pushing aside branches, like someone rearranging a space before a ceremony.

“Lily didn’t come,” Damon commented as he approached.

“I know,” Ester replied, without looking at him. “I asked her not to come.”

This made Damon frown.

“Why?”

Esther stopped. She turned to him.

In the dim light, her face looked harder, older. Not tired—alert.

“Because what we’re going to do today isn’t an exercise,” she said. “It’s a test.”

Damon felt a chill run down his spine.

“Of what?”

She walked to him and pulled the spear from the ground with a sharp movement.

“Of limits.”

She made a brief gesture with her hand.

“Sit down.”

Damon obeyed, crossing his legs on the cold ground. The dampness of the earth seeped through the fabric of his clothes, but he barely noticed. Esther stood before him.

“Don’t draw the spear,” she said. “Don’t defend yourself physically. Today, you won’t fight.”

“Then what do I do?”

“Survive,” she replied.

Ester closed her eyes.

For a moment, everything was too quiet.

Then, the forest changed.

It wasn’t a sound. It wasn’t a clear movement. It was as if the space around them had taken a deep breath. Damon felt his Qi react reflexively, expanding, searching for references.

“How many?” Ester asked calmly.

Damon opened his mouth… and stopped.

Not because he didn’t feel anything.

But because he felt everything.

The night brought layers that the day hid. Creatures that only moved under the protection of darkness. Predators that avoided light. Things too small to be noticed before, now vibrating like points of heat in his perception.

“I…” he swallowed hard. “I don’t know where to begin.”

“Then you’ve already started wrong,” Ester said. “You don’t start by counting. You start by filtering.”

Damon closed his eyes.

He breathed.

He tried to remember what he had learned in the previous days: noise is not a threat, presence is not intention, intensity is not size.

He let part of his perception go.

“Sixty-something…” he began. “No. That’s noise.”

Ester walked slowly around him, her steps almost inaudible.

“What do you ignore?” she asked.

“Small insects. Chaotic movement. Things that don’t react to my presence.”

“And what do you keep?”

Damon frowned.

“Reaction,” he replied. “Rhythm. Focused attention.”

The world thinned out.

As if someone had turned an invisible knob.

“Thirty-four,” he said, now more firmly. “Nineteen small ones. Eleven medium ones. Four large ones.”

Ester stopped behind him.

“Where are the large ones?”

Damon hesitated.

“Two to the northeast. One…” he took a deep breath. “One is very close.”

The silence weighed heavily.

“Where?” Ester insisted.

Damon opened his eyes slowly.

He didn’t look ahead.

He looked behind him.

Between two trees, a few meters away, something was moving.

It wasn’t advancing. It wasn’t retreating.

It was observing.

The Qi of that presence was dense, irregular. Not aggressive—alert.

“There,” Damon said. “It’s not hostile. Yet.”

“Yet,” Ester repeated.

She stepped back a few paces, giving space.

“Do nothing,” she ordered. “Just hold.”

Time passed strangely after that.

Seconds stretched out. The air grew colder. Damon felt sweat trickling down the side of his face, not from physical exertion, but from pure tension.

He noticed when another large one approached, coming from the west.

Then another, further away.

“They’re moving,” he murmured.

“Why?” Esther asked.

Damon closed his eyes again.

“Because I’m here,” he replied. “Because I’m too alert. My perception is… drawing attention.”

“Exactly.”

Esther planted the spear forcefully in the ground.

The impact reverberated through the ground like a deep bell.

Everything reacted.

Small creatures fled in disarray. Medium-sized predators changed course. The large ones… hesitated.

Damon felt his count crumble.

“Focus!” Esther ordered.

“I’m trying!”

“Don’t try to control everything,” she said. “Choose.”

Damon took a deep breath, feeling the Qi vibrate chaotically within him.

He chose.

Not numbers.

Intentions.

The nearest presence shifted.

He sensed when she decided to back away.

“A big one is moving away,” he said, his voice trembling. “The closest one.”

“Why?”

“Because…” Damon swallowed hard. “Because it realized it’s not worth the risk.”

Esther smiled slightly.

“Very well.”

But then, something went wrong.

Damon felt it.

It wasn’t coming from the forest.

It was coming from within.

A strange pressure, as if something in his Qi was trying to expand beyond what he could sustain. His vision darkened for a moment.

“Ester…” he murmured. “Something’s wrong with me.”

She approached immediately.

“Describe it.”

“My perception… it’s not shutting off. No matter how much I try to filter it. It’s like…” he breathed heavily. “Like I’m marked.”

Ester was silent for a second too long.

“This isn’t from the forest,” she said finally. “It’s yours.”

Damon opened his eyes, startled.

“Mine?”

“Your nature,” Ester replied. “You’re not just learning to perceive. You’re starting to emit.”

She knelt before him.

“Incubi aren’t just social predators,” she said softly. “These are points of reference. The world reacts to you, whether you like it or not.”

Damon felt a chill.

“So… these things…”

“They’re sensing you,” Ester confirmed. “Just like certain humans will sense you. Just like certain creatures… and certain people.”

She stood up.

“That’s why Lily didn’t come,” she said. “You needed to face this without distraction.”

Damon was breathing heavily now.

“What if I can’t switch off?”

“Then you learn to carry on,” Ester replied. “Because there will be no choice.”

She held out her hand.

“Stand up.”

Damon accepted her hand, staggering as he stood.

The forest seemed more distant now. Not silent—respectful.

“Today,” Ester said, “you haven’t won anything.”

She looked him in the eyes.

“But you haven’t been consumed either.”

Damon chuckled weakly.

“Is this the standard for success now?”

“For someone in your position?” Esther turned, already walking away. “Yes.”

She paused for a moment.

“Tomorrow, we’ll see if you can do this… in your sleep.”

Damon stood there alone for a few seconds after she left, feeling the echo of the night still clinging to his skin.

And for the first time since the beginning of the training…

He wondered if the world would ever seem silent again.

…

The morning was still cool when Damon crossed the mansion’s inner courtyard.

The sun had barely broken through the walls, and the golden light reflected on the damp stone floor. That’s when he saw her.

Morgana was exercising in the center of the open space, wearing light workout clothes, the fabric clinging to her skin with sweat. Her movements were fluid, precise—stretches, slow rotations, controlled breaths. Every gesture seemed calculated… and yet, too natural to be just an exercise.

She was truly beautiful.

Not despite the sweat.

Because of it.

Damon paused for a moment before approaching.

“Morgana.”

She turned her face toward him, a few strands of hair clinging to her forehead. A slow smile formed on her lips.

“Good morning,” she said. “You came early today.”

“Are you alright?” Damon asked sincerely. “I’ve seen you… less.”

She raised an eyebrow as she stretched her arms above her head, stretching slowly.

“I’m great,” she replied. “You’re the one who’s been missing.”

Damon frowned, confused.

“Me?”

“You,” she confirmed, turning her neck from side to side. “Training all the time. Morning, afternoon, night. Forest, spear, perception…” She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “And forgetting about me.”

There was something about the way she said it. Not an accusation—a provocation.

Damon laughed, scratching the back of his neck.

“That wasn’t my intention. I promise to make it up to you.”

“Oh, really?” Morgana tilted her head, assessing him. “Make it up to you how?”

“Any way you want.”

She didn’t answer immediately.

She just turned completely to face him and took a few slow steps toward him, stopping too close to be casual.

“Then help me stretch.”

Damon blinked.

“Help… stretch?”

“Yes,” she said, too innocently to be real. “Intense exercise requires care. I don’t want to end up sore afterward.”

She turned her back to him and lowered herself slightly, resting her hands on her knees.

“Hold my arms.”

Damon swallowed hard.

He obeyed.

When he touched her, he felt the immediate warmth of her body, the firm muscles beneath her still-damp skin. Morgana let out a low sigh as he helped her extend her arms behind her.

“Like this,” she murmured. “Slowly.”

Damon tried to focus on the movement.

He tried.

“You’re tense,” Morgana commented, looking over her shoulder, her eyes shining. “Overtraining does that.”

“You’re not helping,” he replied, laughing nervously.

She smiled.

“I think I’m helping exactly as I want to.”

She straightened up a little more, reducing the distance between them even further, her tone too soft to be a coincidence.

“It’s been a while since we’ve been like this.”

Damon felt his heart race.

“Morgana…”

“Relax,” she said, finally letting go and turning to face him. “For now, it’s just stretching.”

Her smile said otherwise.

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