I couldn’t move.
My Aether pool sat at a complete, flatline zero. Every muscle in my body felt like it had been unstitched, washed in acid, and loosely sewn back together.
The 35-hour non-stop training session had left me completely hollowed out.
Thirteen hours remained before the sealed stone gate to Floor 3 would unlock, and the dark mausoleum was dead quiet.
Valeska unbuckled her obsidian collarplate, letting the heavy metal plates loosen around her shoulders. Her featureless visor dissolved into crimson sparks, revealing her porcelain skin and her fiery red hair.
She sat down on the smooth glass floor beside me, her six-foot-two frame casting a long shadow in the dim, purple moss-light.
"You pushed your vessel to its absolute limit," Valeska said, her voice surprisingly soft, lacking its usual harshness. "If you do not replenish your Aether, your soul-channels will contract."
"Yeah... I noticed," I wheezed, lying flat on my back. "I can barely feel my fingers."
Valeska leaned down, straddling my waist as she settled onto the stone floor. She brought her hands to my chest, placing her bare, warm palms directly over my shirt.
[SOUL REPLENISHMENT INITIATED]
[Current Aether: 15 / 1,200]
Unlike before, when my Aether would refill in a sudden, explosive burst, this was a painstaking, slow trickle. A single drop of essence entered my soul-channels every few seconds, carefully rebuilding what I had spent over thirty-five hours.
Even with [Somatic Overload] reset to Level 1, the continuous skin-to-skin contact caused the sensory feedback to hum constantly in the background.
Valeska let out a soft, involuntary gasp, her head tilting back slightly. A faint crimson flush spread across her pale cheeks, her long red hair falling over her shoulders as her body shivered from the intimate, overstimulating feedback flowing steadily beneath her palms.
She didn’t pull away. She sat there on top of me, her heavy chest rising and falling against mine with every shallow breath, enduring the warm sensory loop as my Aether slowly crawled upward.
[Current Aether: 180 / 1,200...]
As the minutes bled by and the essence continued its background trickle, I looked up into her flushed face.
"Hey, Valeska..." I spoke softly, the bantering tone back in my voice.
"Do not... talk, mortal..." Valeska panted softly, her crimson eyes half-lidded as she tried to keep her composure against the continuous feedback. "Focus... on the essence..."
"I’ve been meaning to ask you something," I continued, ignoring her warning. "Back in the cathedral, High Inquisitor Theron called you the Ashen Monarch who burned the Western Continents to ash. But the Paladins and mercenaries weren’t really terrified of you. Why?"
[Current Aether: 450 / 1,200...]
Valeska went quiet for a long moment.
The heat between our palms hummed steadily, a quiet background stream filling my depleted pool, while her crimson eyes drifted away, looking toward the dark, melted mausoleum walls. A rare, mature shadow of memory passed over her face—a look of someone who had lived through centuries of blood, fire, and tragic history that the world had long since distorted.
"Over the course of time, I might have forgotten," Valeska said quietly, her voice carrying a deep, melancholic weight. "Who knows?"
I looked at her, seeing a side of the Ashen Monarch that wasn’t just a six-foot-two disaster entity, but a person with an ancient, forgotten past.
[Current Aether: 820 / 1,200...]
"Well," I murmured, a faint smirk returning to my face. "For whatever reason you had, I’m pretty sure those western nobles deserved it."
Valeska looked down at me, her crimson eyes softening just a fraction. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched the corner of her lips. She didn’t insult me. She didn’t call me an insect.
For the first time since I had summoned her, there was a mature, genuine compassion in her gaze—an acknowledgment of the mortal who had just stood on his feet and bled for thirty-five hours straight without giving up.
[Current Aether: 1,180 / 1,200...]
[SOUL REPLENISHMENT COMPLETE (1,200 / 1,200)]
[Soul Synchronization Level: 30%]
The background trickle finally finished, leaving behind a comfortable, soothing warmth in my chest. All the physical pain and soul fatigue had been washed away, but the sheer mental exhaustion of non-stop training still weighed heavily on my eyelids.
Valeska shifted, moving off my waist to sit on the stone floor beside me.
I looked at her, my eyelids getting impossibly heavy.
"Valeska..." I muttered, turning my head toward her.
"What is it, mortal?"
I looked at her lap, then looked up at her crimson eyes.
"Can I... sleep on your lap for a few hours before Floor 3 opens?" I asked, my voice laced with genuine tiredness. "My head is spinning."
Valeska looked at me for a moment, her red visor gone, her porcelain face completely exposed under the dim moss-light. She let out a soft, quiet sigh—a sound devoid of any anger or disgust.
"Okay," Valeska said softly, gesturing toward her lap. "Sleep."
I didn’t hesitate. I shifted my body, resting my head gently on her warm lap.
Her legs were soft, and as I closed my eyes, I felt her bare, unarmored hand gently rest on my dark hair, her fingers lightly running through it.
In the pitch-black, silent depths of Floor 2, surrounded by melted obsidian walls and the ashes of ancient monsters, I fell into a deep, peaceful slumber on the lap of the Ashen Monarch.
Ten hours remained until the sealed stone gate to Floor 3 would open.