He opened the door to his workshop and ushered me through, none of his regular joviality was present on the creases of his face. I walked past in silence, passing through the doorway and scanning the room for somewhere to sit. I found a nice enough chair and settled down, turning back to Alvir as he examined my wounds.

  “You’ve healed well,” he said. “Healer Ken must really care for you if he’s put this much effort in your recovery. I…honestly didn’t know if you were going to survive in your state.”

  I said nothing, because what was there to say to that? What petty words could the two of us share in the aftermath of what he’d done? I didn’t go there for pleasant conversation, I went for an answer.

  Then? I’d figure it out after.

  Alvir gave me a slow nod, seemingly expecting the silence. “I’m…honestly surprised that you chose to come. Do you want to keep learning from me?”

  That got a chuckle, void of any humor but still a chuckle. I hated myself instantly for it.

  “I understand that you likely want nothing to do with me, but know that I had my reasons for what I did, and you…shouldn’t waste an opportunity to learn,” he said.

  I stared at him right in the eye for that, and something in my gaze actually managed to make him flinch. That pissed me off. What was this thing I was facing? It didn’t matter what mask he hid behind, because whatever this was was surely a mask. I didn’t care for it.

  “Learn what?” I said, and my voice came out with a surprising amount of heat.

  He flinched again, and this was rapidly starting to tip me over the edge of volcanic rage. I had to keep cool though, I knew I couldn’t kill him, not without knowing whatever tricks he had up his sleeve at least. I doubted he’d just let me kill him.

  He pursed his lips and dared to look me in the eye with something resembling steel. “Do you remember the first comment I made when we met?”

  “Something along the lines of me being wise for my distrust of witches?” I said. “Is that what this was? Just a bullshit lesson to prove a point you didn’t need to prove?”

  He shook his head. “You understand nothing. The world you’ve entered with that demon pact isn’t a kind one. You saw what Seph had done to her own son, and yet still you chose to walk blindfolded, thinking that you could make connections so easily without them being taken advantage of by any sort of passing witch.

  “You know you’re possibly one of the most known figures in Anik? All because of your ears and eyes. The coven has plenty of witches that wouldn’t balk at mutilating a few children to send a message across. This way I could control it, have it teach you something.

  “Don’t look at me like that, you know in your soul that this was necessary. You have a weak demon hiding in there, I can tell because you’re not twisted like the rest of us. A blessing that you don’t succumb to our vices, but you can’t walk on this path unaware of what the rest of us are capable of.

  “Don’t you see? I told you so many times how happy I was that you weren’t naive, surely you must know that this hurts me just as well? I didn’t want to do this, but you forced my hand! You should’ve kept those children at a distance, not…whatever it was you were trying to do.”

  “I was preparing them for the End,” I said.

  “An end which won’t happen.” He sighed.

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  I shook my head. “It will.”

  He gave me an annoyed look, but that quickly molded itself back into the mask of guilt he’d been wearing. He’d let his beard grow out a bit, if only for a few days. Funny, that coincides with how long I’d been in this state. The idea that he truly felt pain for what he’d done was almost enough to make me abandon good sense and try to strangle the man.

  But no, I came without a sword to show that I wasn’t looking for a fight, and if he wanted to kill me he’d simply do it. What was stopping him exactly? He’d had more opportunities than a mathematician can count. So his desire to train me was genuine.

  I didn’t know how to feel about that. Didn’t know how to feel much beyond the pain and blissful distraction. But this…how do I say this? I needed him, no matter how much I wanted to tear out his heart.

  I needed him.

  That made the next words that came out of my mouth feel like an insipid poison. A betrayal to what I’d lost. Another deal with something that took everything.

  “Everyday,” I said. “No more butchering, no more selling your fancy jewellery in the morning. We’re going to train my magic every day, and there will be progress. Learning to sense mana isn’t enough.”

  The look he gave me was filled with a nauseating amount of hope. “Alright.”

  Pain is a signal; a warning to stop a fool from doing irreparable damage to the body.

  The entire function and concept is one of protection, a barometer that’s only wise to follow. Push too far and all you’ve accomplished is to hurt yourself. But you can’t get stronger without experiencing some pain, so there had to be a balance.

  How does one manage it?

  Well, it’s a complex series of calculations and physical understanding of the self. An intricate bond of knowledge and instinct that didn’t really matter to me anymore, because pain was more than just a feeling.

  It was retribution for the damned, something I sorely deserved. But how do I deliver it without harming myself? Well, it turns out being capable of magic is a gateway to many wonders, including the aspect of tormenting the self.

  Something neat I learned a while ago was that there weren’t any consequences for spiritual pain, at least none that I could measure. Sure, it hurt and hurt and hurt-

  But I could keep pushing, as much as I wanted, as much as I deserved.

  The cracks that formed in the spiritual pathway of my bicep weren't enough, so I kept condensing it to a point; it'd heal instantly if I let go. So I didn’t let go. Choosing to aim for the event horizon that left me debilitated for days, because surely there was some benefit to the pain? Honestly, I didn’t really care if there was, that was just an excuse at this point to keep pushing myself.

  Guilt is one hell of a motivator.

  So much of my mana, condensed into a ball that’d soon become a droplet, screaming absolution through my body as I just kept going. It hurts so bad, so much more than having chunks bitten out of me or my guts hanging out from my stomach-

  But I’d gotten close, closer than I’ve ever been since the last time I’d dared to tread this road in ignorance. Knowing what would follow made it infinitely harder. My subconscious didn’t want any of the suffering I was about to subject myself to but it would learn. I would make it. Perhaps the only temper was that It couldn’t possibly hurt as much as the first time considering how my pathways have strengthened.

  It crushed and teared and burned and stabbed and skinned and broke and-

  But it was bearable. It was bearable.

  I’d felt worse and would feel worse and wouldn’t stop until I dropped to the ground as a corpse. I planned to live forever, so the pain would last forever. That was fine by me.

  Condensing more and more, bringing mana to a point where it goes from a liquid into more of a liquid. Thicker and thicker and thicker. More suffering, more strength, more everything.

  Until-

  A droplet of power manifests and I lose my grip over the thing, leaving it to course through my body in blessed suffering. My body seizes and muscles spasm as a silent scream escapes my mouth. It was transcendent, true punishment condensed into a droplet of power-

  And I kept going, beginning the process to condense another droplet as all encompassing suffering suffused my being.

  It hurt.