Chapter 40: Ego Boy.
Belle’s voice cut through the quiet like a bell.
"Sebastian," she called from the doorway, her usual lazy tone replaced by something almost... energetic. "Final training session’s in an hour. Don’t be late this time."
I glanced up from the bed where Sacha still lay curled on my lap, half-asleep, tail flicking idly. "Final, huh? You sound like you’re looking forward to it."
"I am," she said with a faint grin. "One last chance to beat the arrogance out of you."
"Bold of you to assume it’s possible."
She rolled her eyes, already turning to leave. "Get ready, ego-boy. I’ll see you outside."
The door shut softly behind her.
For a moment, the room was quiet again, only the faint hum of mana lingering from the night before. I looked down at Sacha — the white tiger blinked up at me, pupils thin slits in the morning light, her fur faintly glowing where it touched my hand.
"Guess it’s time to see where we stand," I murmured.
With a thought, the familiar translucent window flickered into view before me, its light reflecting in Sacha’s eyes.
Status
Name: Sebastian Nekros
Age: 17
Rank: E
Affinity: Life, Death, Soulflames
Bloodline: Locked
Attributes
Strength: E+
Agility: E+
Endurance: E+
Perception: E
Willpower: E+
Luck: unpredictable
—
Titles:
-Son of Death
– Apostle of Life
– Anomaly
—
Sword Art:Nyxian Dirge
Companion:Sacha Nekros
I exhaled slowly, eyes lingering on the last line.
"Companion, huh?" I muttered. "Looks good on you."
Sacha yawned in response, small fangs glinting under the light.
The moment I opened my status window, the familiar black screen shimmered into existence, its faint lines of blue text hovering against the dark like veins of light in obsidian.
For a second, I just stared.
A few months ago, it had been pathetic—F-rank across the board, a mess of weak numbers and even weaker excuses.Now...
Rank: E.
Every single attribute had climbed.
Strength. Agility. Endurance. Willpower.
All of it had grown under Belle’s ridiculous training methods—those endless days of repetition, meditation, and her "gentle encouragements" that usually involved hitting me with a stick until I saw stars.
The funny part? I hadn’t even been trying to raise my stats. Belle made me focus on will and mana control, on the rhythm between body and flow, on surviving her mana flares without screaming.
And somehow, that had dragged everything else up with it.
I leaned back slightly, studying the faint glow that outlined each letter. By academy standards, this wasn’t just decent—it was good. Top ten first-year level, at least.
Not bad for someone who’d spent only a few months in this world.
A grin crept up my face. "Guess I’m better at this than I thought."
{You’re barely competent,} Bastard muttered. {Don’t get ahead of yourself.}
’Says the voice who slept through my duel,’ I shot back.
{You were winning one-sidedly. Watching would’ve been boring.}
I rolled my eyes. "You missed a masterpiece."
The window flickered softly as I looked closer. Two new lines blinked at the bottom, fresh, sharp, and impossible to ignore:
Sword Art: Nyxian Dirge
Companion:
Sacha Nekros"Companion tab, huh?" I murmured.
The thought alone made the black surface ripple. Another window unfolded like a petal blooming in the dark. Its text burned brighter, crystalline blue against shadow.
[Companion Status]
Name: Sacha Nekros
Gender: Female
Race: Soulbeast — White Thanatiger
Rank: E
Affinity: Ice, Death
Attributes
Strength: E+
Agility: E
Endurance: E
Perception: D−
Willpower: E+
—
Description: A newborn Soulbeast, forged from the depths of your soul. Once a dormant vessel, now awakened through your essence and will. Her growth mirrors your resolve and the instability within it; her claws are your defiance, her frost your restraint.
As she evolves, so too will the weapon she becomes: a living manifestation of your dual nature, Life and Death bound in one breath.
Note: The bond’s power is directly proportional to the strength of the soul it anchors to. Growth and decline are shared equally between the two.
I exhaled slowly.
The words pulsed faintly, as if alive.
I looked down at Sacha, who was still curled across my lap, fur white as snow, faint blue light rippling beneath her skin. Her breathing was steady, her tail twitching lazily against my leg.
"So this is what you are," I said softly.
Her ear flicked at my voice. When her eyes opened, they glowed with that same cold, cerulean light as the window.
{She’s stronger than you were at her age,} Bastard remarked, voice like a smirk.
’She’s an hour old,’ I thought.
{Exactly.}
I sighed, shutting the window with a flick of thought. The black glass folded away, vanishing into nothing.
"Great," I muttered. "Even my soul beast’s ahead of schedule."
Sacha blinked at me, then yawned, tiny fangs glinting as frost gathered at the corners of her mouth.
{Careful, Sebastian,} Bastard drawled. {If she learns to talk before you learn to think, we’re doomed.}
"Shut up," I said flatly.
Sacha purred, and somehow, it sounded like she agreed with him.
I stood up, the last traces of Sacha’s purring still echoing faintly in my chest. The black window dissolved into smoke, vanishing like it had never been there.
"Right," I muttered, stretching my shoulders. "Training in an hour."
I crossed the room and pushed open the washroom door. The cold air bit against my skin as I stripped off my shirt, water running faintly in the background.
My reflection in the mirror stared back, sharper now, leaner, golden eyes faintly tinged with the same blue light that pulsed through Sacha’s fur.
Halfway through pulling on a clean shirt, I heard it.
A voice.
Soft. Childlike. Feminine.
It brushed against my mind like a whisper carried on static.
Papa... I’m hungry.
I froze. My hands stopped mid-motion, the fabric half over my head.
’What the—’
{Wasn’t me,} Bastard said immediately, his tone almost amused. {I don’t do "Papa."}
’Then—’ I cut myself off, pulse picking up. I focused, the same way I’d done when talking to Bastard before, pressing my thoughts outward, searching for that thread that wasn’t quite sound or mana, but something deeper.
’Sacha?’ I thought carefully.
For a heartbeat, silence. Then—
Yes! The voice came again, lighter this time, brimming with pride. Sacha’s hungry!
My stomach dropped.
’Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.’
{Congratulations, Sebastian,} Bastard said dryly. {Your soul just learned to talk back. Next step: adoption papers.}
I yanked the shirt the rest of the way down, shoved my boots on, and stormed out of the washroom.
The sight that greeted me almost made me laugh and cry at the same time.
Sacha was on the floor, but "on the floor" wasn’t really accurate. She was everywhere. The bed looked like it had been claimed as her throne, blankets tossed aside. The desk was a mess of claw marks and stray blue frost.
She padded across the carpeted floor with all the grace of a queen inspecting her domain, tail flicking, eyes glowing faintly.
Her fur shimmered under the morning light, white and pure, veins of faint azure pulsing beneath. Every step she took left behind a trace of frost that evaporated seconds later.
She turned her head toward me, and when our eyes met, she smiled, not in the human sense, but whatever it was, it was creepy.
Papa! she chirped again, her voice ringing in my mind like laughter on glass. Food?
I just stood there, somewhere between awe and disbelief.
{Told you she’d eat you alive,} Bastard said. {Literally or emotionally, jury’s still out.}
I exhaled through my nose, rubbing the bridge of it tiredly, a faint smirk tugging at my lips despite myself.
"Even my daughter’s arrogant," I muttered, watching her leap gracefully onto the windowsill, tail curling like she owned the world.
I couldn’t help the small flicker of pride that slipped into my voice.
"Guess it runs in the family."