Kin gripped Flex's sword, its worn hilt pressing against his palm as he stared down the Tiger Bear. The beast's hulking form shifted, its muscles coiling before it lunged—razor-sharp claws slicing through the air. Kin barely had time to react, stepping back just as the monstrous paw raked through the space he'd occupied a breath ago.
"It's slower than before… but I still can't get close without a distraction. And with Seya down and Ceru healing Flex, I'm the only one who can keep it occupied."
His eyes flicked upward—then widened slightly. An idea. Without hesitation, he sprinted forward, his boots kicking up dust. As he neared the Tiger Bear, he hurled a dagger toward the dungeon's ceiling. The blade ricocheted off the stone, whistling through the air in a perfect trajectory headed straight for the beast's head. The Tiger Bear snarled, shifting to deflect it—just as Kin closed the gap and drove Flex's blade into its blind spot.
A dull thunk.
Not deep enough.
Kin's jaw locked in place as he pulls the blade free, stepping back before the beast could retaliate. A sharp exhale left his lips, frustration setteling in. "I don't even have the strength to pierce through to its organs… and with one dagger left, I only have one more chance."
His breaths came heavier now. Then—
A memory.
The sun-drenched park. The rhythmic whoosh of a wooden sword cutting through air. Kin, practicing his daily swings, his posture rigid with determination.
A voice.
"Would you like to learn a sword skill?"
Kin turned, meeting the gaze of an older man—perhaps in his fifties, his expression calm yet amused.
"One second," Kin had said, eyes locked on an unseen opponent.
The man raised a brow. "Who are you talking to?"
"My sparring partner," Kin replied, matter-of-fact.
The man followed Kin's gaze—to nothing. But to Kin, the black-and-white figure stood there, ever-present.
Intrigued, the man chuckled. "Haha… I am a Raider."
Kin's demeanor shifted—intense, almost electrified with interest. Without hesitation, he thrust his makeshift sword toward the man. "Here!"
The man, momentarily surprised, accepted it. Then, plucking a leaf from the ground, he tossed it into the air.
Slice—slice—slice—slice.
four perfect cuts. The leaf fluttered to the ground in fragments.
"That's full speed," the Raider said.
"Whoa…" Kin breathed.
Kin stood firm, his grip steady on the makeshift sword. His stance—though rough—mirrored the old man's almost instinctively. The angle of his blade, the positioning of his feet, even the subtle tension in his shoulders—it was all close. Not perfect, but closer than a novice should be.
The old man stroked his chin. "This child is perceptive."
Then aloud, he began, "Yes, but keep your feet—"
"Like this?" Kin interrupted.
Kin moved. His grip tightened, his sword traced the path of the technique. At first, it seemed promising. But then—his balance wavered. His strikes lost consistency—some sluggish, others too eager. His footwork, initially steady, faltered as his weight shifted erratically. By the final cut, he overextended, lost control, and tumbled onto the grass with a soft thud.
The old man surprised overally blinking, then let out a small chuckle.
"Yes," the Raider finally said, amusement lacing his tone, "but keep your feet grounded. The power comes from your hips with every strike. Practice this ten thousand times, and you'll master it."
Still lying on the ground, Kin listened intently, eyes fixed on the old man. The moment the lesson ended. "Right!" he said, that determined glint never once fading.
Ceru's hands hovered over Flex, pure green light spilling from her fingertips. A subtle twist in the air her gaze flicked toward Kin—his stance had changed. His breathing was different, deliberate. intentional. A slow inhale. A long, measured exhale. The air seemed to tighten, pressing in around him.
Then—Kin moved.
A blur of motion. The battlefield warped around his speed.
As he closed the distance, he flung a glass bottle high above the Tiger Bear. A twitch of its ear—its gaze flicked up.
CRACK!
Kin's dagger struck the bottle midair, shattering it. Water cascaded down, splashing across the Tiger Bear's face.
Its pupils constricted.
A heartbeat. A chance?
"I didn't practice that move ten thousand times… I practiced it one million times."
Kin was already there.
A final inhale. The breath stretched—endless. A long exhale. The world around him unraveled into slow motion. Time stretched. The Tiger Bear, realizing the ruse, swung its massive paw—
Ceru's eyes widened. "No…"
Kin moved. Time stopped.
His sword blurred—Down from above—across to the left—A diagonal cut, then another—Lightning crackled from the blade's edge, streaking outward with each slash—A final upward strike.
Then. Time moved.
The Tiger Bear's pained roars ceased. Its massive frame sagged, then crashed into the earth with a deep, final tremor. Dust fluttered in the aftermath, disturbed only by Kin's unsteady breath. The acrid scent of blood mixed with damp stone.
Kin didn't move. His grip loosened around the hilt. The weight of the moment pressed against his shoulders. A second passed. Then another. He exhaled. Slowly. Deeply. The tension in his limbs unwound— Only then did he turn.
Then, turning, he approached Ceru. She wasn't crying anymore. Just exhausted, shadows beneath her eyes.
"Is Flex alright?" Kin asked.
"He'll need medicine for the pain when he wakes up… but he'll be okay," she answered softly.
"And Seya?"
"She exhausted her mana, but with rest, she'll recover."
Kin exhaled. "That's good." His eyes look into the distance. "We should be close to the fifteenth now. I'll carry Flex. Can you hold Seya?"
Ceru nodded. "…Yeah."
They picked up their fallen comrades and pressed on. To the fifteenth city...
As they stepped onto the 15th floor, a world of quiet majesty unfolded before them. A stone pathway stretched ahead, flanked on both sides by still, mirror-like water that reflected the crystalline glow above. The cavern's roof was a cosmos of its own—deep blue crystals embedded in the rock pulsed like distant stars, casting shimmering constellations across the vast expanse. Unlike the compact and rugged terrain of the 5th, this city was sprawling, its buildings rising with an air of elegance.
At the heart of it all, a single structure dominated the skyline, a towering monolith that dwarfed the rest. At its peak, a massive crystal pulsed with ethereal light, refracting into a soft, glacial hue that bathed the city in a dreamlike glow.
Kin and Ceru emerged from the pathway, burdened yet unwavering—Kin cradled Flex's unconscious form, while Ceru carried Seya on her back, her steps steady despite the weight. The moment they reached the city's entrance, guards rushed forward, eyes widening at the sight of the wounded. Without hesitation, they whisked Flex and Seya toward the local hospital, disappearing into the labyrinth of blue-lit streets.
Street lamps, sculpted from crystal and metal, lined the roads, casting cascading ribbons of azure light across the stonework. Kin, chest rising and falling with urgency, turned toward the city's heart. But his mind was already leagues ahead, chasing the message he needed to send.
The guards had taken Flex and Seya, whisking them away through the glowing streets. Yet Kin remained stiff his fingers twitching at his sides, as if resisting an instinct.
Ceru shifted beside him, rolling her shoulders now freed from Seya's weight. She stole a glance at him. Even under the city's ethereal glow, the sharp cut of his features remained severe—cheekbones etched like flint, his jaw locked in silent determination. His hands, battle-worn and restless. Ceru sensed it.The impulse to act.
"I got them from here," she said, voice even but edged with quiet insistence, a tether meant to ground him.
Kin blinked as if surfacing from deep water, his gaze snapping to hers. A slow exhale. Then a curt nod.In an instant, he was gone, boots striking the stone in a rhythmic sprint toward the nearest courier station. The thought burned in his skull, searing and absolute—he had to reach the Gatekeeper.
The mailing service had no doors, only a smooth façade with shifting slots where letters flowed in and out like clockwork. Behind a narrow desk, tucked between the constant motion of enchanted paper, sat an older man—his wiry frame hunched slightly, ink-stained fingers moving with practiced efficiency as he scrawled messages onto enchanted parchment. Despite the ceaseless flurry of letters, he barely glanced up.
Kin didn't waste a second. "I have an urgent message for the Gatekeeper," he said, voice clipped and firm.
A brief time skip. The attendant, adjusted his spectacles before meeting Kin's gaze. "Your letter has been sent. Expect a response in several hours."
"Several hours?!" Kin's voice sharpened, his pulse spiking. "We don't have that kind of time." His fingers constricted into trembling fists, muscles pulled so taut they felt like twisted cables beneath his skin. A breath scraped past his teeth. Every instinct in him rejecting the idea of waiting while time slipped away. If the Gatekeeper wouldn't get the message fast enough—Kin would deliver it himself.
But first, he had one more stop to make.