Chapter 255: What about rest?

Fwoosh!

An arrow left the Moonlight bow’s string, it was a streak of pure golden light, a spear spear of mana that crossed the void in less than a heartbeat. It illuminated the darkness in the void for a brief second before it vanished into nothingness.

Nathan watched it go, his arms trembling, his chest heaving.

Then the glow of the bow died.

Moonlight flickered in his grip—the golden aura of [Overlord’s Authority] sputtering and fading like a candle in a hurricane. The bow’s enhanced form dissolved, the divine radiance bleeding away until only the familiar B-Rank weapon remained.

Nathan’s knees buckled.

He would have collapsed if there was anything to collapse onto. Instead, he simply floated there, suspended in the void, his body screaming with the familiar agony of total mana depletion that he hadn’t felt in a very long time since he ranked up from F-Rank.

[Mana Reserves: 3%]

The notification flickered in his peripheral vision, a mocking reminder of his limits. Even with S-Rank aptitude, even with the Leyline Ring and the Mana Capacitor working in tandem, continuous simultaneous and repeated usage of the Overlord skills drained him faster than anything else in his arsenal. [Overlord’s Authority] alone consumed more mana in thirty seconds than most Climbers used in an entire battle.

But Nathan didn’t panic.

He had been here before. Many times. Dozens of times, in the endless stretch of time since he had fallen into this void.

"Okay," he gasped, forcing his lungs to work. "Okay. One more time."

He raised his hand. The gesture was mechanical now, drilled into his muscle memory through countless repetitions.

[Healing Field].

Soft green light bloomed from his palm, spreading outward in a gentle wave. The warmth hit him like a blanket, sinking into his exhausted muscles, his battered bones, his screaming nerves. The healing energy didn’t just soothe—it restored. Stamina flooded back into his limbs. The fog in his mind cleared. And slowly, gradually, his mana reserves began to tick upward.

[Mana Reserves: 5%... 8%... 12%...]

Nathan closed his eyes and let the healing wash over him.

This had become his routine. His ritual. His only way to measure the passage of time in a place where time had no meaning.

He would start with [Focus Shot], charging the arrow for the full sixty seconds, pouring his mana into the projectile until it blazed like a miniature sun. Then he would fire it into the void, watching it disappear into nothing, and immediately follow up with [Starfall Barrage]—watching the arrows rain down into the darkness, each one vanishing before it could hit anything.

Then came the Overlord skills.

[Impenetrable Fortress] — a golden barrier that flickered into existence around him, holding for exactly seven seconds before the void’s entropy ate through it.

[Invisibility] — he would vanish, his presence erased from the fabric of reality, and count the seconds until his mana ran too low to sustain the effect.

[Tyrant Dragon Fist] — a spectral dragon’s head roaring into existence, its golden fire illuminating the void for a brief, beautiful moment before dissipating into nothing.

And finally, [Overlord’s Authority] — the trump card. The skill that had shattered Arthur’s unbreakable shield. The skill that burned through his mana reserves like a wildfire through dry grass.

Then, when he was completely empty—when his body was shaking and his mind was fraying and his reserves hovered at the absolute bottom—he would activate [Healing Field] and start the cycle again.

It was brutal and exhausting, but it was the only thing keeping him sane.

Nathan opened his eyes and glanced at his status panel.

[Sub-Class: Overlord]

[Overlord Points (OP): 1750]

A faint, tired smile crossed his face.

One thousand seven hundred and fifty points. Up from the original twelve hundred. Five hundred and fifty points of progress, earned through sheer, stubborn repetition.

He still didn’t fully understand how the system calculated the points. Was it based on mana spent? Skills used? Time spent actively channeling the Overlord class? He had tried to track the increments, but the numbers didn’t follow any pattern he could decipher. Sometimes a full cycle of training would earn him fifty points. Sometimes twenty. Once, after a particularly brutal session where he had pushed himself to the brink of unconsciousness, he had gained nearly a hundred.

But the mechanism didn’t matter. What mattered was that it worked. Every session, every cycle, every desperate attempt to master skills that weren’t truly his—it all added up. Slowly. Painfully. But undeniably.

"I’m getting stronger," Nathan murmured to himself. "One point at a time."

’You are also getting more boring, Master.’

Nathan snorted. "Excuse me?"

Mirko’s voice echoed through the mental link, carrying its usual blend of fierce affection and theatrical exasperation. ’You have been doing the same thing for what feels like an eternity. Fire arrow. Rain arrows. Shield. Disappear. Punch. Glow. Heal. Repeat. It is incredibly monotonous!’

"It’s called training, Mirko."

’It is called torture! For me! I have to watch you do it over and over again, and I cannot even participate because I am stuck in this summon space!’

’You could simply not watch,’ Kuro suggested dryly.

’And do what? Stare at the walls of this cramped dimension with you guys? At least watching the Master gives me something to do!’

’Your dedication to the young lord’s training is noted,’ Shiro said, her tone carrying a hint of amusement. ’Even if your methods of expressing it are... loud.’

’Loudness is a valid form of encouragement!’

Nathan shook his head, the smile still tugging at his lips. "You know, most summons would be grateful for a break. You’ve been fighting nonstop for months. This is the second time you’ve had a long chance to rest."

’Rest is for the weak!’ Mirko declared. ’This Knight requires action! Adventure! Glory! Honourrrrrrr!’

’You require attention,’ Kuro corrected.

’That is slander! I require—’

’Attention. You require attention.’

’I require BOTH attention AND glory! They are not mutually exclusive!’

Nathan laughed. It was a hoarse, tired sound, but it was genuine. Even in the void, even in this endless expanse of nothing, his summons could still make him smile.

"Alright, alright," he said, raising his hand. "One more cycle. Then I’ll take a break. Deal?"

’A break? Truly?’ Mirko’s voice perked up immediately. ’Will you tell us a story? A heroic tale of your past battles?’

"I was thinking more along the lines of sitting quietly and not moving. And you already know all the takes of my past battles, Mirko. You were always there."

’That is not a break. That is just... existing.’

"Existing is underrated."

’Hmph! This Knight disagrees! A proper break should involve—’

’Mirko,’ Ororo interrupted gently. ’The Young Master is tired. Let him rest as he sees fit.’

’But—’

’He has been training for what feels like weeks without pause. Even his prodigious stamina has limits.’

Mirko was quiet for a moment. Then, softly: ’...Fine. But only because you asked, Ororo.’

Nathan smiled. "Thanks, Ororo."

’Of course, Young Master. You have earned rest. More than you realize.’

Nathan let his hand fall. The healing energy faded, leaving him feeling marginally better than before. His mana reserves hovered around twenty percent—not enough for another full cycle, but enough to feel human again.

He turned his attention to the cocoon floating beside him.