Chapter 46: Fracture and Forge
By dawn, the training field had been reformed—blackened stone layered with protective wards, surrounded by containment seals. A ring of ethereal fire shimmered faintly along the border, drawn from Rose's own Domain. It was no longer just a space for combat—it was a crucible.
Karen stepped into the center, her breathing measured but heavy. She hadn't slept. Not truly. Not with the weight of Rose's promise: you'll learn to reshape your soul under suppression.
Rose stood at the edge, arms folded. Her presence was stripped of unnecessary pressure, but still heavy—like a mountain watching.
"You'll fight with your soul partially sealed," she said, gesturing to a pale glyph suspended in the air. "You're still a Proto Domain user. This will weaken your shaping by about forty percent, limit regeneration, and dull reflex-channeling. You'll also feel disoriented."
Karen nodded once. "Understood."
"Painfully."
"…Understood."
Rose activated the glyph.
Karen winced immediately. A cold spike ran through her spine. Her aura dimmed. The petals of her Shadow Bloom wilted slightly, and the Abyss Scythe in her grip felt heavier, more distant—like it was no longer hers.
She staggered but stayed standing.
"Begin," Rose said.
This time, she didn't attack with flames or domain.
She attacked with silence.
No pressure. No sound. She just stood there, watching.
Karen blinked. Confused.
Then it hit her.
The silence bled into her mind. The suppression glyph didn't just weigh down her soul—it clouded her connection to it. The Abyss Scythe trembled, not from fear, but from disassociation. Her domain began to fracture, like shattered glass unable to hold its form.
"I can't… control it—"
"Good," Rose said calmly. "Now, fix it."
Karen dropped to one knee, clutching her chest. The scythe's shadowy edge flickered, unstable. Her Proto Domain threatened to collapse altogether.
But she remembered Rose's words: Don't survive. Master it.
She closed her eyes.
Breathed.
And reached in—not with force, but with intention.
Shadow, bloom again.
The scythe reformed, stuttering but present. The armor followed—like ink reshaped by her will into plated constructs.
She stood slowly. Wavering. But upright.
Rose's eyes narrowed. "Impressive. But unstable. Hold that form—while dodging."
And then—Rose moved.
She vanished, reappeared behind Karen, and struck with the flat of her flame-sword.
Karen twisted just in time. The blow grazed her back but didn't drop her.
Her armor warped.
Again, Rose struck. Again. Again.
Every dodge forced Karen to will her armor back into shape while still under suppression. Each block threatened to snap the fragile construct she had forced into being. Her domain, still a newborn, cracked and reknit with every heartbeat.
She was failing—but not shattering.
"Excellent," Rose muttered mid-combat, her strikes now probing with precision. "You're stabilizing faster. Your intent is starting to match the shape."
Karen growled, swung the scythe. Missed. Swung again—caught flame armor—but the blow ricocheted.
Still, Rose stepped back.
And smiled faintly.
"You're beginning to bloom under pressure," she said, flames dimming slightly. "If you can keep that construct intact for five more minutes, I'll allow you to attempt a counter-cast. Shaped Construct Shift—into a spear or shield mid-battle."
Karen's breathing was fire and grit.
But she nodded.
"Then let's finish this."
Rose raised her sword.
"Begin."
And so, within the ring of fire and shadow, Karen fought not only her mentor—but her own soul's threshold. For in the art of shaping a domain, the true forge was within.