The kingdom had granted it—an ancient training chamber sealed beneath Sanctum Academy itself. Hidden from public records and untouched by even the eldest heirs, this sacred gymnasium bore the mark of the old Architects.
Walls lined with inert Nullmetal and Spellwoven Obsidian, designed to withstand the raw output of the highest-caliber magic. Not even a System collapse could breach its core. Only those authorized by the crown and the Detractors were allowed entrance.
Now, its doors opened… for five.
Eluin, Cerys, Lysira, and Primira stood in silent awe as the doors hissed open and a field of golden-light runes folded away like petals revealing a vast domed chamber.
The ceiling shimmered with illusionary skies that responded to ambient mana. One wall showed the current warfront. Another, fractal diagrams of casting trees. The center was empty—yet the very air hummed with tension.
Then Ari stepped in.
His aura alone made the walls resonate, as if welcoming one of its creators.
"This place was once used to test Origin-level casting," Ari said. "Now, we'll use it for something even more important—rebuilding what was lost."
They looked at him, uncertain at first—until he drew from his side a scroll sealed with the mark of the Detractors.A custom training doctrine for each of them, written in ancient Compiler syntax.
"We don't have the luxury of easing into power. This won't be training. This will be rewriting your limits."
Cerys Aetherrose – The Precision of Aether
Ari led her to a crystal platform that floated in shifting gravity fields.
"Your lineage controls the purest form of Aetherthread. Precision is everything. But you've been restrained by perfectionism. That ends now."
He activated the gravity fields. Suddenly, her body felt ten times heavier. The moment she cast a misaligned glyph, the field pulsed with backlash—harmless, but jarring.
"Control isn't about elegance, Cerys. It's about efficiency in chaos. Again."
She gasped, pushed forward. Again. Again. Until sweat poured from her temples and her eyes blazed with violet fury.And then… she flowed, not fought, through the spell.
"Good," Ari said softly. "Now… faster."
Eluin Velastra – Dream Within Time
For Eluin, he conjured an illusory domain locked in recursive loops.
"You've relied too much on your visions," Ari told her. "But now you'll learn to fight within them."
He created a layered simulation—each second split into multiple futures, a dozen decisions fracturing with every blink.She had to navigate all of them—reacting as timelines collapsed, reformed, and collapsed again.
"Predicting is passive. But rewriting the outcome—that's active mastery."
She stumbled at first, panic in her teal eyes. Then she smiled, soft and terrifying.
"I see now. Every failure is just a thread I haven't pulled yet."
Lysira Cindergale – Fire Refined in Will
Lysira's training was the most physical. He brought her to the sparring ring where enchanted dummies adapted instantly to her spells.
"Your fire is strong," Ari said, "but you treat it like a hammer. Pyreththread isn't just destruction—it's emotion given form. But emotion must be refined, not unleashed."
She rolled her eyes.
"You gonna lecture or fight me?"
He smirked.
"Both."
What followed was chaos—spells clashing, flame scattering, Ari matching her blow for blow with only threadless martial magic. When she collapsed, panting, he offered his hand.
"Get up. You're not even halfway there."
"You're an ass."
"Correct. Again."
And she did. Again. With sharper fire, tighter control, and heart behind every strike.
Primira Vastelune – Light is Not Always Just
Primira faced the most delicate path. Luxthread wasn't just light—it was authority, judgment, justice. But justice wielded blindly becomes cruelty.
Ari created illusions—villagers, prisoners, friends—then placed moral paradoxes in her path.
"You must choose," he said. "Not by law. But by truth. Even if the truth hurts."
At first, she hesitated. Luxthread faltered. But as she accepted complexity—not everything is right or wrong—her light changed.
It curved, it bent, it reflected… until it obeyed not commands, but conviction.
"You're not just a princess, Primira. You're the blade of clarity. Don't let the System tell you who to be."
Her ice-blue eyes shimmered with something new. Not cold pride—but resolve.
Hours turned to days. They trained like soldiers. Fell like mortals. Rose like legends in the making.
Ari never held back—not his critique, not his encouragement.
And though they cursed his harshness at times…
By the end of that first week, even the walls of the sacred chamber had begun reacting to their synchronized power signatures.
Four threads, reforged.One Compiler, reborn.