Chapter 13: Two Weeks
Morgana gave Lyra two weeks.
Not for training.
Not officially.
"For adjustment," Morgana said.
Lyra found that suspicious.
"Adjustment to what?"
Morgana smiled.
"Your mana."
"Your body."
"The Crimson Lotus."
"Your new life."
Lyra disliked how easily the words fit together.
New life.
As though the old one had already ended.
Maybe it had.
The Adventurer Guild was behind her.
Marshall was gone.
Velkaris had nearly killed her.
Her mana had become something impossible.
And now she was living inside the Crimson Lotus under the protection of a Level 65 woman who owned a brothel and casually discussed demonic evolution over tea.
Two weeks sounded generous.
So Lyra used every hour.
The Crimson Lotus had a private training ground behind the main building, hidden behind tall walls and reinforced gates.
Lyra had expected something decorative.
It wasn't.
The yard was wide, practical, and brutally well equipped.
Weighted posts.
Practice weapons.
Mana-resistant dummies.
Stone weights.
A running track.
Spell targets reinforced with layered enchantments.
Sparring circles marked into the ground.
Morgana had explained it simply.
"Many of my guards are former adventurers."
"Some of my workers also prefer knowing how to defend themselves."
That made sense.
The first morning, Lyra began with her usual routine.
Running.
Push-ups.
Footwork.
Weapon drills.
Mana circulation.
The same exercises she had done for years.
The difference was immediate.
Her mana answered.
For the first time in her life, it did not crawl through her pathways like a dying ember.
It flowed.
Smooth.
Warm.
Responsive.
Pink light flickered faintly beneath her skin as she moved.
At first, it frightened her.
Then it fascinated her.
Then it became useful.
Every repetition felt different.
Every circulation cycle gave something back.
Her breathing recovered faster.
Her muscles endured longer.
Her body absorbed mana more easily.
Even exhaustion felt cleaner, more productive, as though her body finally understood what training was supposed to do.
Then she began testing spells.
At Level 6, Lyra had only ever managed basic magic.
Mana Light.
Wind Bolt.
Weak Reinforcement.
Crude Mana Pulse.
Enough to survive if she was clever.
Never enough to dominate.
Now everything felt different.
She raised her hand toward a distant target.
"Wind Bolt."
Pink mana gathered instantly.
The spell fired.
A compressed burst of air slammed into the target with enough force to crack the outer enchantment.
Lyra froze.
Before, that same spell would have barely dented wood.
She tried again.
"Wind Bolt."
Another shot.
Sharper.
Faster.
Cleaner.
She adjusted the mana flow, compressed it tighter, narrowed the release.
The third bolt punched straight through the dummy's shoulder.
Lyra stared.
Then laughed once under her breath.
Not because it was funny.
Because it felt impossible.
Next came Mana Reinforcement.
She pushed mana through her legs.
The pink energy responded immediately.
Her muscles tightened.
Her stance stabilized.
She lunged forward.
Too fast.
Lyra nearly tripped over herself.
She caught her balance at the last second, skidded across the dirt, and stared down at her own feet.
"Again," she muttered.
This time she controlled the flow more carefully.
Less mana.
Cleaner distribution.
She moved.
Fast.
Stable.
Efficient.
For the first time, reinforcement did not feel like forcing power into a body that resisted it.
It felt like opening a door.
She practiced until sweat soaked her clothes.
Then she moved to blade work.
Mana flowed along the sword's edge.
"Wind Edge."
A thin layer of compressed air formed around the blade.
Before, the spell had flickered constantly.
Now it held.
Not perfectly.
But enough.
Lyra swung.
The blade cut through a practice post in a single motion.
The severed half slid to the ground.
Several nearby guards stopped training.
Lyra pretended not to notice.
Inside, she was shaking.
Not from fear.
From possibility.
On the third day, Morgana tested her.
Magic Level 9.
Lyra stared at the number in silence.
Three levels.
In three days.
She nearly cried.
By the sixth day, she reached Level 12.
By the tenth, Level 14.
A few days later, the testing crystal glowed again.
Magic Level 15.
Fifteen.
Not six.
Fifteen.
Nine levels in less than two weeks.
For years, she had failed to gain even one.
Now her mana grew so quickly it frightened her.
Morgana, naturally, looked delighted.
"Excellent."
Lyra slowly turned toward her.
"Excellent?"
"Yes."
"This is insane."
"Also yes."
Morgana wrote something down in her notebook.
"Your growth is rapid, but not unstable. Your body is adapting well."
Lyra looked back at the crystal.
Level 15.
Rookie adventurers had once mocked her.
Now she had already passed many of them.
The thought sent a dangerous warmth through her chest.
Pride.
Satisfaction.
Hunger.
The pink mana around her fingers pulsed softly.
Lyra immediately clenched her hand.
"No," she muttered.
Morgana glanced at her.
"No?"
Lyra looked away.
"I'm not straying from the human path."
Morgana closed her notebook.
"Then there's something you should know."
Lyra frowned.
"What?"
"The honeymoon phase is ending."
Lyra blinked.
"The what?"
"The period where your body is rapidly adapting to its new mana structure."
Morgana tapped the crystal.
"Level 15 is an important threshold."
Lyra's stomach tightened.
"What does that mean?"
"It means your growth will begin slowing down."
The excitement she'd been feeling cooled slightly.
"Slowing down?"
"Not stopping. Just becoming more normal."
Morgana folded her arms.
"You gained nine levels because your body was finally allowed to function properly. That kind of explosive growth doesn't last forever."
Lyra stared at the crystal.
Part of her had hoped she could simply keep climbing at this pace.
Morgana continued.
"Unless."
Lyra immediately narrowed her eyes.
"Unless what?"
Morgana smiled.
"Unless you embrace the succubus aspects of your power."
There it was.
The temptation.
The shortcut.
The easier path.
Morgana's voice remained calm.
"You possess abilities that can accelerate your growth dramatically."
"I know."
"You could become stronger much faster."
"I know."
Lyra looked at the glowing crystal for several long seconds.
Then she smiled.
Not bitterly.
Not angrily.
Just calmly.
Resolutely.
"I've already made my choice."
Morgana raised an eyebrow.
Lyra met her gaze.
"I'm staying human."
The words felt good.
Solid.
Certain.
"I don't care if my growth slows down."
The pink mana around her fingers shimmered softly.
"No matter what happens, I'm sticking to my path."
For a moment, Morgana simply studied her.
Then she smiled.
A genuine smile.
"Good."
Lyra blinked.
"Good?"
Morgana nodded.
"Your happiness and comfort should be your priority."
That wasn't the response Lyra had expected.
But somehow, it made her feel better.
The Crimson Lotus itself was harder to adjust to than the mana.
It was elegant, loud, and constantly alive.
During the day, workers cleaned rooms, prepared food, organized schedules, counted coin, repaired clothing, managed visitors, and handled deliveries.
At night, the building transformed.
Lanterns glowed.
Music drifted through the halls.
Adventurers drank, laughed, flirted, gambled, bragged, and pretended not to be afraid of Velkaris.
Lyra mostly watched from the edges.
Morgana had arranged for her to begin work as a receptionist after the two-week adjustment period. Until then, she was expected to observe how the Lotus functioned.
That was how she first met Sophie.
Lyra was walking through one of the side hallways when she heard voices ahead.
Mocking voices.
She rounded the corner and found three workers surrounding another woman.
The woman in the middle was beautiful.
Tanned skin.
Bright eyes.
Blond hair tipped with pink.
She stood with a polite smile that looked increasingly strained.
"Oh, look," one of the workers said. "There she is. Morgana's favorite."
Another rolled her eyes.
"Must be nice having every customer ask for you."
"Maybe if the rest of us looked like that, we'd get special treatment too."
Sophie sighed.
"I don't get special treatment."
"Sure you don't."
"That's why customers keep requesting you."
"And why Morgana always praises your work."
The jealousy was obvious.
The bitterness even more so.
Sophie kept trying to defuse the situation.
"I've never asked for any of that."
"Of course not."
The first woman folded her arms.
"Things just magically work out for you."
Lyra watched for several seconds.
Different place.
Different people.
Same cruelty.
She stepped forward.
"Is there a problem?"
All four women turned.
The workers looked annoyed.
Sophie looked surprised.
"This doesn't concern you," one of the workers said.
Lyra nodded.
"Then leave."
The woman blinked.
"What?"
"I said leave."
Lyra didn't raise her voice.
She didn't threaten them.
She simply stared.
Years of dealing with adventurers had taught her something useful.
Most bullies lost their courage the moment someone pushed back.
One of the women noticed the scars covering Lyra's arms.
Another recognized her as the strange newcomer who spent every morning destroying training equipment.
Their confidence faltered.
With a few muttered insults, they finally walked away.
The hallway fell silent.
Sophie stared at Lyra.
Then smiled.
A genuine smile.
"Thank you."
Lyra shrugged.
"They were annoying."
Sophie laughed.
That was the beginning.
After their first meeting, Sophie seemed determined to become part of Lyra's life.
She appeared everywhere.
At breakfast.
In hallways.
Near the training yard.
Beside Lyra during quiet evenings.
She asked questions constantly.
About adventuring.
About combat.
About training.
About why Lyra looked like she wanted to challenge furniture to duels.
Lyra tried to keep her distance.
It didn't work.
Sophie was persistent.
Worse, she was kind.
When Lyra trained after work, Sophie often watched from the sidelines.
At first Lyra found it distracting.
Then Sophie started cheering.
"Lyr-aa! Hit it harder!"
Lyra nearly missed the training dummy.
"Don't do that."
"Do what?"
"That."
"Support you?"
"Yelling isn't support."
"It is when I do it."
Sophie kept doing it.
Somehow, Lyra stopped minding.
Especially when the cheering helped.
That was the strangest part.
Whenever Sophie watched her train, Lyra's mana became slightly warmer.
More responsive.
Not enough to be overwhelming.
Not enough to make her panic.
But enough that she noticed.
Her Wind Bolts became cleaner.
Her Mana Reinforcement settled faster.
Her reaction drills sharpened.
Lyra hated what that implied.
So she ignored it.
Mostly.
On the thirteenth evening, Lyra trained alone after sunset.
At least, she thought she was alone.
Pink mana flowed around her hands.
Level 15.
The number still felt unreal.
She closed her eyes and circulated her mana.
One cycle.
Two.
Three.
Then she began layering spells.
Mana Reinforcement through the legs.
Wind Edge along the sword.
Mana Pulse gathered in the left palm.
Three techniques at once.
Before, even maintaining two would have left her dizzy.
Now the spells held together.
Imperfectly.
But they held.
Lyra moved.
A reinforced step carried her across the yard.
Her sword cut through the first dummy.
A Wind Bolt fired from her off-hand and struck the second.
She spun.
Mana Pulse erupted from her palm.
The third dummy skidded backward across the dirt.
Lyra landed hard, breathing fast.
The spells flickered.
Her control wavered.
Then stabilized.
Her mana surged.
Suddenly.
Violently.
Lyra froze.
The energy rushing through her pathways felt different.
Sharper.
Cleaner.
Her body trembled.
The pink glow around her hands intensified.
A pulse of mana exploded outward.
The nearby training crystal flashed.
Then displayed a new number.
Magic Level 16.
Lyra stared.
For a moment, she couldn't breathe.
Another level.
Another breakthrough.
She had done it.
Behind her, someone screamed.
"YES!"
Lyra nearly jumped.
Sophie came running across the yard like she'd just witnessed a legendary battle.
"You did it!"
"Sophie—"
"You did it!"
She grabbed Lyra's shoulders.
"Level sixteen!"
Several guards looked over.
Sophie didn't care.
She was practically bouncing.
"I knew you'd get stronger!"
"Sophie—"
"You're amazing!"
Lyra felt heat rise to her face.
Nobody had ever celebrated her achievements before.
Not like this.
Not with genuine excitement.
Not with joy.
Sophie was grinning so hard it looked painful.
Lyra looked at her.
At the excitement.
At the pride.
At the ridiculous enthusiasm.
And before she realized it, she smiled.
A real smile.
Warm.
Natural.
Easy.
Sophie immediately pointed.
"There!"
"Oh, no."
"There!"
"Don't start."
"You smiled!"
Lyra rolled her eyes.
But the smile remained.
For most of her life, her name had sounded like failure.
Now she stood in a place where people knew her.
Where she was growing stronger.
Where someone celebrated her victories as though they mattered.
Sophie was still cheering.
Still excited.
Still impossible.
Lyra shook her head.
And smiled a little wider.
Maybe she could get used to this.