Year 1372 of the New Calendar. Autumn. Lonia was thirteen years old.
The third basement level of the training grounds at the Catori main residence.
Lonia knelt on one knee in the center of the shattered stone tiles, clutching the gray shortsword her sister had given her. Most of her jet-black hair had fallen loose from her high ponytail, the sweat-soaked strands clinging to her neck and collarbone.
At thirteen, she was nearly a head taller than she had been at eight. Her shoulders had transitioned from their soft, rounded childhood shape into the slightly narrower, defined contours of a young girl.
Within her body, mana was surging.
The barrier leading to Rank Five had shattered.
Her total mana volume nearly doubled the moment she broke through. Lonia pushed herself up from the ground. Her knees wobbled slightly, but she steadied herself.
She lifted her left hand, staring at the spiderweb-like cracks on the shortsword. This blade had accompanied her from Rank Three all the way to Rank Five.
Rank Five.
Five years.
From eight to thirteen years old, from Rank Three to Rank Five.
Eight hours of physical training every day, actual combat sparring three times a week, and occasional extra training sessions.
Finally.
Lonia sheathed the shortsword back at her waist and wiped the sweat from her face with the sleeve of her training uniform.
She walked out of the training grounds and made her way up the underground corridor.
The study door was open, and Eliza was sitting behind the desk.
Five years had passed, but her appearance had not changed in the slightest. Once a pureblood vampire reached adulthood, their aging process slowed to a near-complete halt.
Her deep black hair draped over her chest, brushing against her hands.
She held a letter in her hands, the edge of the paper sealed with the dark gray wax unique to Gloom Castle.
Lonia stopped at the doorway.
“...Sister.”
Eliza did not look up. Her fingertips pinched the corner of the letter as her gaze scanned down the paper, line by line.
“Did you break through?”
“Yes. Rank Five. Just now.”
“How long did it take you?”
“...Three years.”
Eliza's fingers paused for a moment. Then, she resumed reading the letter.
Lonia leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed over her chest. The cuffs of her training uniform were still damp.
“A letter from Fina?”
“A report from the Ten Courts Joint Conference.”
Eliza placed the letter on the desk and tapped her finger twice against the paper.
“That friend of yours attended the Ten Courts Joint Conference last month on behalf of the Demon King.”
Lonia's eyelashes fluttered.
“...I know. She told me.”
“What else did she tell you?”
“She said she was very nervous, and that all the Court Heads were incredibly powerful, which made her admire them.”
“She didn't tell you what she did at the conference?”
Lonia tightened her arms slightly against her chest.
“...What did she do?”
“The territorial dispute between the Flame Demon Court and the Shadow Demon Court had dragged on for two years without a resolution. She proposed a partition plan at the conference, and both sides accepted it. It took less than an hour.”
Lonia remained silent.
“I voted in favor of the proposal. The demarcation of every single boundary line was backed by historical documents and geographical surveys, and every compensation clause was calculated down to the exact output ratio of the mineral veins. She is only thirteen.”
Eliza's tone did not change, as if she were reading a report.
“Furthermore, the results of her mana measurement from last week also came in.”
Lonia's fingers clenched tightly within her crossed arms.
“...What rank?”
“Rank Eight. She is already on par with me.”
The rush of power from breaking through to Rank Five was still making Lonia's veins throb. But the moment that number reached her ears, all of her excitement deflated.
Rank Eight.
She had spent five years climbing from Rank Three to Rank Five.
Rafina had spent five years going from Rank Five to Rank Eight.
Lonia's lips twitched slightly.
“...That's great. Rank Eight. Impressive.”
Eliza looked at her as if examining cracks on a piece of porcelain.
“You don't care?”
“Care about what?”
“She is Rank Eight, and you are Rank Five.”
“So what? It's not like we're going to fight.”
“You indeed aren't going to fight. But you've spent five years chasing after her, and now, the gap between you is even wider than it was five years ago.”
“I'm not chasing her.”
“But you train for eight hours every single day without fail. You used to hate putting in effort more than anything.”
“That's only because I want to get stronger.”
“You want to get stronger because you don't want to be left behind by her.”
Lonia gritted her teeth.
“...Sister, what exactly are you trying to say?”
Eliza rose from her chair, walked over to Lonia, and looked down at her from above.
“What I'm saying is, you should stop and think.”
“Think about what?”
“Think about what you are actually doing.”
Eliza stared into Lonia's eyes.
“You spent five years training yourself to Rank Five. That speed is already considered fast among vampires. But your target isn't the standard of a vampire; your target is her. And she...”
Eliza paused.
“...is not someone you can catch up to.”
Lonia's shoulders stiffened.
“Do you know what Rank Eight means? A thirteen-year-old Rank Eight. In the entire history of the demon race, the only one who can compare to her is the Ancestor of Demons. She was born with multiple Authorities, standing at the very peak of the world.
Lonia. Your friend is not a genius. Geniuses are like Fema and Tia—slightly faster than their peers, slightly stronger than average people. Your friend is something on an entirely different level.”
Lonia's nails dug into her palms.
“I know.”
“You don't know. Or perhaps you do, but you refuse to admit it.”
There was not a single ripple of emotion in Eliza's voice.
“'It clearly wasn't like this when we first met.' That's what you're thinking, isn't it, Lonia?
Do you think you are still eight years old? Sitting in the maple forest eating chestnuts, holding hands, protecting each other? Lonia, she is Rank Eight now. An existence who can single-handedly alter the course of a major battle. Meanwhile, you are Rank Five. You might not even survive the aftershocks of her fighting at full strength.”
“I can survive it!”
“You can't. Last month, you went to Gloom Castle to watch her train, and you threw up three times after you came back. Did you think I wouldn't find out?”
—Lonia suddenly realized why, after that incident, Rafina would immediately stop training whenever she came to visit.
“Standing by her side, you aren't an equal. You are a burden.”
The air froze.
Lonia's lips trembled.
Looking at her expression, a trace of satisfaction flashed in Eliza's eyes.
“I'm not trying to hurt you. I am telling you the truth. You can keep training, keep chasing, and keep pushing yourself to the brink of death. But in five years, when you reach Rank Seven, she might already be Rank Nine. In ten years, when you reach Rank Eight, she might already have reached the very peak.”
Eliza turned around, walked back behind her desk, and sat down.
“You are a princess of the Catori family. Not anyone's shadow.”
Lonia released her grip on her own arms.
“...I know I can't catch up to her.”
Her voice was very quiet. Much quieter than usual.
“I've known that since I was eight.”
Eliza's hand paused on the letter.
“But that is no reason for me to stop.”
Lonia turned and walked out into the corridor.
She did not look back.
Turning the corner at the end of the corridor, Lonia's figure vanished into the shadows untouched by the ghostfire.
Sitting behind the desk, Eliza stared at the empty doorway with her crimson, slitted pupils.
Her fingers lingered on the corner of the letter for a long time.
Then she lowered her head and resumed reading.
Under the ghostfire, the wax seal of Gloom Castle gleamed with a dark gray light. The very last line of the letter was written in neat, elegant small script:
“Please tell Nia that I will bring freshly roasted chestnuts to Maple Town next week.”
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