Novel Full Chapter 1455 Passage of Time
Chapter 1455 Passage of Time
Time returned in fragments.
Quinlan was dimly aware of the ground first, then of the dull weight pressing into his ribs, his shoulders, his spine, as though the earth itself had decided to claim him for a while. Lucille lay on her side next to him with armor scuffed and darkened, and her axe resting a short distance away where it had fallen. Her face bore the marks of the lesson just given, with swelling already setting in along her cheekbone. She lifted one trembling hand and reached for him, fingers brushing along his jaw and chin with a softness that felt out of place after everything that had happened.
It was not a plea, nor a reassurance spoken aloud. Just contact, looking for his warmth and presence.
Quinlan turned his head slightly toward her touch and let out a slow breath, allowing himself that single moment of stillness while the pain settled into what he could catalog.
Dragnar had insisted on this.
After each lesson, after each breaking point was found and pressed upon, he gave them a brief respite. He had said that a mind drowning in overload learned nothing, and that exhaustion without reflection was just wasted suffering. So they lie like this now.
Then, within what felt like only a few seconds, the air shifted.
“Get up,” Dragnar’s voice carried across the field, heavy and absolute. “It is time.”
Lucille’s hand fell away as she rolled onto her back and then pushed herself upright with a low grunt. Quinlan followed, planting a hand against the ground and rising to one knee before standing fully.
Lucille reached up and, without ceremony, gathered her long hair and tucked it beneath her helmet, securing it properly for the first time since the training had begun.
Quinlan noticed.
A breath of laughter escaped him before he could stop it. “Took you long enough.”
She shot him a look as she locked the helmet in place. “I didn’t feel like listening to the man who was beating up my husband…”
His mouth curved despite himself. “So you were rebelling.”
She scoffed and tightened the strap. “I wanted to stick it to him. But if I get tossed into the air by my hair one more time, I’ll lose my mind.”
Quinlan rolled his shoulders once, feeling mana and muscle align again as he turned to face Dragnar, stance settling naturally despite the exhaustion pulling at him. “Then let’s get serious. This time, we go all out.”
“You never held back,” Dragnar decreed.
“…”
Quinlan’s mood was ruined.
What followed blurred together.
Time lost its clean edges as days passed in cycles of engagement, collapse, reflection, and return, each clash stripping away habits that had once felt reliable and exposing instincts that were slower than they should have been. Quinlan learned what it meant to move before thought finished forming, learned how hesitation cost more than reckless advance ever had, learned how pain could guide correction if he listened rather than resisted. Lucille learned alongside him, refining her control, finding the line where fury served her rather than consumed her, stepping back almost as often as she stepped forward.
They were beaten down again and again, and each time they stood up with something sharper behind their eyes.
A voice slid into Quinlan’s thoughts without warning, smooth and far too satisfied with itself.
“It is time to move on.”
He blinked with his breath still steadying from the last exchange.
“Already?” Quinlan asked, sending the thought back with a tired edge. “That felt… short.”
“You have been killed by Dragnar more than one hundred thousand times,” Nyxara replied flatly. “And a full week has passed.”
Quinlan stopped mid-stretch.
“Wait. That much?”
“Yes. That much.”
“…Damn.”
He straightened slowly, rolling his neck once as he looked across the field where Lucille was tightening her gauntlets.
“What have you been doing all this time?” he asked the demon in his head. “You were awfully quiet.”
“I was counting your deaths,” Nyxara said. “Someone has to keep accurate records so I can return them in equal measure to Dragnar once I am able to.”
“I don’t need you to do that for me.”
“Maybe not,” she replied, her voice sweetening in a way he did not like, “but I will not allow my adorable Ruin to be treated like this.”
Quinlan stared ahead, unimpressed.
“It was you who told me to train under him.”
There was a brief pause.
“…Lesson number one from Professor Nyxara,” she announced loudly. “Never question the logic of a woman.”
He considered that for a moment, taking a wry look at Lucille, who didn’t secure her hair just because she didn’t feel like it, more or less, then replied evenly, “You might be onto something.”
“You cannot agree with me on this!” Nyxara gasped. “Absolutely not. How dare you?”
Quinlan ignored her.
“Did you really spend a week just counting how many times I died?”
“Why is that surprising? I’m a primordial who’s lived for billions of years. You think I need stimulation every other second not to get bored? When you’re towering over me with the intention of ruining me, pinning me into the sheets with that fierce look of yours… When your hands are around my throat as you glare into my eyes and declare you’re going to breed me into submission, that’s obviously a different topic. Then, I miiiiight get a bit wild. But it’s not like boredom and I are new acquaintances. Our history goes way back.”
“…You’ve got a point,” he admitted.
“Though I wasn’t just counting. I took a lot of walks around the soul realm. It’s a wonderful place, and I can’t wait to see what it grows into. Oh, and I bonded a bit with Mimi. What an adorable girl.”
His jaw tightened.
“I hope you didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Wrong? Me?” The demon protested. “I’m an angel.”
Then, more cheerfully, “I taught her how to do her nails, and I also taught her how to sew clothes for herself. We’ve been having a lot of fun, I’ll have you know.”
“Oh dear,” Quinlan muttered, earning a curious glance from Lucille.
“I hope it wasn’t anything obscene.”
“Of course not!!” Nyxara snapped. “I might be a hopelessly perverted, raunchy woman, but I won’t defile such an adorable little girl. I have my own creed!”
“You could’ve fooled me.”
“Quinlan Elysiar!!”
He sighed. “…Okay, I’ll trust you.”
He did not.
His awareness dipped inward, sliding past familiar currents and into the quiet expanse of his soul realm.
Mimi sat cross-legged on the grass with tongue peeking out in fierce concentration as she guided fabric beneath a needle with painstaking care, tiny fingers moving with utmost seriousness. Her nails gleamed a soft blue, neat and glossy, showing that Nyxara truly wasn’t lying. Mimi paused every so often to admire her newly shining nails before returning to her work. Behind her on one of the tree’s branches, Nyxara lounged comfortably with legs dangling idly as she offered commentary that Mimi either ignored or acknowledged with tiny nods. The scene was so domestic and gentle that it felt almost unreal, coming from the same demon who nearly consumed his very fabric of existence.
Quinlan withdrew at once.
“You just checked, didn’t you?!” Nyxara shouted suddenly. Her intuition was scary. “You said you’d trust me!”
He exhaled through his nose.
“Okay. Dragnar is over. Who’s next?”
“And now you’re ignoring me?!” Nyxara cried with outrage dialed to its highest setting. Then, as if nothing had happened just a moment ago, Nyxara went quiet.
Quinlan almost smiled. Almost.
Several seconds passed in wordless protest.
“Kiryssa…” Nyxara muttered at last, the word clipped and clearly offered under duress.