The forest was darker here.
Not just from the canopy, though it hung thick overhead. Not just because dusk was creeping in.
It was the silence.
Even the birds had stopped.
Naofumi led, shield forward. Raphtalia clung close behind, blade shaking slightly in her hands. Kaley followed at the rear, her steps light, precise, always scanning.
"We're getting close," Naofumi said.
Kaley nodded, but her eyes narrowed. "Something's wrong with the mana here. Twisted."
Naofumi looked back. "You can feel that?"
"I don't feel it. The Void does."
That didn't clarify anything—but he didn't press.
They kept moving.
The cave was where the reports said it would be—a jagged mouth carved into the side of a moss-covered hill.
Inside, the stench of blood hit them instantly.
Fresh.
Naofumi's jaw tightened.
Raphtalia took a step back, hand covering her nose.
Kaley drew her blade. Her armor shimmered faintly in the dim light, the Void around her thrumming with restrained anticipation.
They moved as one.
Into the dark.
They reached the heart of the chamber—and the beast attacked.
It wasn't just a dog. It was massive—matted fur, eyes glowing red, half-rotted teeth snapping with animal rage. It had been corrupted, mutated by whatever dark energy pulsed from the fissure at the back of the cave.
Naofumi blocked the first lunge, but the force of the blow knocked him back several feet.
Raphtalia froze.
Kaley didn't.
She moved like lightning, sword cleaving down across the beast's shoulder.
It howled. Spun. Knocked her off balance.
Raphtalia screamed.
The beast turned toward her.
Kaley looked up—time slowing.
She remembered.
The corner. The blood. The sound of her own breath catching in a corridor stained with shadows.
Unarmed. Afraid. Abandoned.
She shouted, "MOVE!" and slammed her palm to the ground.
Radial Blind.
The light burst from her body like a halo. The beast reeled back, screeching. Raphtalia stumbled out of the way, breath ragged.
Naofumi got to his feet.
Kaley was already charging again.
She didn't go for a clean kill.
She went for the spine.
The beast dropped with a thud.
And then it got up again.
Wounded. Bleeding. Faster.
Kaley skid to a halt, shielding Raphtalia with her body.
"Your fear is real," she said quickly, not looking back. "But it's not your enemy. That thing is."
"I—I can't," Raphtalia whispered.
"Yes, you can." Kaley turned her head, just enough to meet the girl's eyes. "You're still breathing. You're still here. That means it didn't win."
Raphtalia was trembling, blade at her side. Kaley's voice dropped low.
"Pick it up. Fight beside me. Just once. That's all you have to do."
Raphtalia looked at the beast.
At Kaley.
And screamed—lunging forward with everything she had.
Kaley matched her.
The two of them attacked together—Raphtalia driving low with her sword, Kaley cleaving down from above.
The blade found the creature's throat.
The sword found its heart.
It collapsed. For good this time.
Silence followed.
Then Raphtalia sobbed.
Not from pain.
From memory.
Naofumi was at her side instantly.
Kaley stepped back, helmet retracting, eyes locked on the cave wall.
"I froze," Raphtalia whispered. "I couldn't—I saw its face, and it was the same one. From when they—when they—"
Naofumi held her as she cried.
Kaley didn't speak.
Not at first.
Then, softly:
"You were a child. And they failed you. Freezing doesn't make you weak."
Raphtalia looked at her, tears streaking her dirt-covered cheeks.
Kaley knelt.
Her voice didn't shake. But her hands did.
"Next time, you'll move. Because now you know the fear won't kill you."
Raphtalia nodded slowly.
Naofumi glanced over Kaley's shoulder.
"You've seen that before."
Kaley didn't answer.
But her silence said everything.
Naofumi checked the system screen as they exited the cave, Raphtalia leaning lightly against him, her body still tense with aftershocks.
"You're up a level," he murmured. "Level 5. You're catching up."
Raphtalia blinked, barely processing it.
"You earned it," Kaley added quietly. "More than most ever do."
The system didn't even attempt to register Kaley.
She was a blank. A presence the world still didn't know how to contain.
But Raphtalia? Raphtalia was being seen.
Kaley walked a few paces behind them as they made their way down the hill.
And she watched the girl.
Not just with tactical interest.
With something deeper.
She'd never said the word aloud. Not in centuries.
But something inside her—soft and silent—whispered it anyway.
She didn't know when it started.
Maybe when Raphtalia stopped flinching.
Maybe when she stood up and swung her sword beside her.
Or maybe it had always been there—buried under war, under steel, under the broken breath of survival.
But it was real.
And it was hers.
That night, Raphtalia sat beside the fire, watching Kaley with new eyes.
"You saved me."
Kaley didn't respond.
Raphtalia smiled faintly.
"I thought you were scary."
"I am," Kaley replied.
"But I'm not scared of you anymore."
Kaley looked at her.
And for the first time since arriving in this world, she allowed herself to believe maybe—just maybe—she wasn't meant to fight alone this time.
Somewhere, unseen, a reflection cracked.