The night pressed in around them, the last remnants of sunset bleeding into the horizon, draping the forest in deep hues of ember and indigo. Shadows stretched long beneath the towering trees, their jagged outlines cast by the flickering campfire at the heart of their makeshift resting place. The air was quiet.
Sye and Senen sat on rough-hewn logs, the firelight dancing across their faces in waves of gold and umber. Across from them, Kin lay sprawled on his back, arms folded beneath his head, eyes shut but listening. Sparks curled upward from the fire, dissolving into the void of the night sky.
Sye hesitated before speaking, her voice softer than usual.
"Um… Mr. Senen?"
The older warrior didn't shift, his expression untouched by the moment. Instead, he absently tossed a small twig into the flames, watching as it blackened and crumbled into embers.
"Call me Senen," he said.
"Mm… okay. Senen," she corrected, shifting in place. Then, with effort, she continued, "You taught Kin that sword technique, right? Could you teach it to me?"
The moment stretched longer than she expected. Asking for guidance was unfamiliar—an act of vulnerability she wasn't used to. Finally, Senen turned to her, his features unreadable in the firelight.
"I no longer wield a weapon."
The statement struck the air like an iron bell. Kin, who had been on the verge of dozing off, jolted upright. His brows knitted together.
"What? But what about your staff? That's a weapon."
Senen's expression didn't change. "Look closely. Both ends are blunt. No edges, no blades… it is a tool for defense alone."
Kin frowned. "But why don't you use a sword anymore?"
The fire crackled, the wood splitting under the heat. Senen exhaled slowly, as if drawing from memories long buried.
"It was only a few months after I joined the guild," he began, his voice measured, deliberate. "My team and I descended to the 50th floor."
Kin leaned in, his eyes gleaming with interest.
Senen continued, his voice steady but distant. "At first, everything seemed… manageable. But then the chamber opened into an expanse too vast, too quiet. Our tank stepped forward."
The flames shuddered as if responding to his words.
"And in an instant, fire consumed him. It was so fast. A column of flames, white-hot, nearly turned him to ash. Our healer ran to him out of instinct. I screamed for her to stop." His jaw tightened. "But the second wave struck before she could retreat. And just like that… they were gone."
Sye swallowed, the story pressing into her.
Senen's eyes remained locked on the fire, its reflection burning in the depths of his irises. "Then it descended. A two-headed dragon. A beast beyond reckoning. My last companion… your Guild Master…"—his voice dipped lower—"screamed in fury. He was ready to charge in, blind with rage. And I knew… if I let him, he would die, too."
His fingers curled into fists. "So before he could take a step, I knocked him unconscious with the back of my blade. Then I carried him out."
A hush fell over them, only the rhythmic crackling of the fire filling the space between their breaths. Kin and Sye sat in stunned silence, the reality of the tale sinking in.
Senen inhaled deeply before concluding, "That is why I can no longer call myself a swordsman."
The words hung in the air, final and immovable. The fire shifted, casting fleeting shadows across their faces.
Kin broke the silence first. "When did you meet the Master?"
Senen blinked, grounding himself back in the present. He let the question settle before answering, "Back when there were no restrictions, I was a solo raider. I met them on the 30th floor." His lips curled slightly. "They were stunned when they saw me. Finding someone alone that deep was unheard of. They insisted I join them if I wanted to venture any further. I agreed."
His voice softened. "We spent months together. And then… that day came."
Kin's curiosity burned brighter. "So… what happened between you and the Master after that?"
Before Senen could answer, Sye struck Kin's shin with the back of her heel. He yelped, clutching his leg, but it did little to break the somber air.
Senen exhaled, a whisper of regret laced in his voice. "When he woke up, we were out of the dungeon. He cursed at me. Screamed in rage, in grief… 'Why did you stop me?' he kept saying. But in that moment, I couldn't speak. I couldn't find the words. So I just stood there. And then he walked away."
His fingers relaxed, his posture easing, though the weight of his memories never left him.
"I never heard from him again."
Sye pressed her hands together, her voice soft. "I'm truly sorry for what happened to your friends… but I think you did the right thing. That dragon was beyond anything I had ever seen b—"
Kin cut in, leaning forward, eyes intense. "Were you not strong enough to face it?"
Senen didn't flinch. "No," he admitted. His hands tightened near the fire, the embers reflecting in his knuckles. "But if I get another chance…"
His fingers clenched snapping a twig in his hand. The flames danced in his grasp.
The fire snapped, embers twisting into the night. The darkness beyond their camp deepened.
And then—
Only silence.
-------
The morning air, the scent of sand, crisp yet heavy with the promise of battle. The sun had only begun its slow ascent, casting golden streaks across the training grounds, where the wind stirred the desert floor.
Tiren stood at the center of it all, his body fresh from rest but mind already sharpening. He rolled his shoulders, stretching each muscle with deliberate care, feeling the familiar tension beneath his skin.
Footsteps crunched over the sun-warmed sand. He turned.
The Guild Master approached, his shadow stretching unnaturally large over the uneven terrain. His movements were unhurried, yet his mere presence shifted the atmosphere.
Tiren straightened, adjusting his stance. "Where are the others?"
"They're not coming today," the Guild Master replied, voice smooth yet carrying an edge of finality.
Tiren blinked, his brow furrowing slightly. "So, what are w—"
Before he could finish, the Guild Master reached for the hem of his shirt. In one fluid motion, he pulled it over his head and cast it aside, the fabric landing in the sand with a muted thud. The morning light struck his exposed frame, revealing a body sculpted not by mere training, but by countless battles, scars tracing faint lines over his skin.
The sheer size of him was staggering. His physique dwarfed Tiren's, every inch of him honed to lethal perfection. Not just muscle—but power. Tiren swallowed, instinctively tightening his own stance. A silent readiness creeping into his veins.
The Guild Master said nothing—he simply stood there, his posture effortless, untouched by tension. And yet, something beneath the surface shifted.
A soft hum filled the air.
Then—power.
A golden aura seeped from his form, slow and thick like molten light, spilling onto the training field like a flood. The very ground beneath him responded, the sand trembling ever so slightly. It was not an explosion of energy—there was no violence to it, no strain. It was control. Absolute and terrifying.
Tiren felt it immediately. The weight of it pressing against his skin, the unmistakable force of something far beyond him. The kind of power that didn't need to be announced—it simply was.
The Guild Master's expression remained unreadable. He didn't even take a stance.
"Are you ready?" he asked, voice steady.
Tiren exhaled slowly, forcing himself to focus. His feet dug into the sand as he steadied his balance, his body lowering into a fighter's stance.
Then he nodded.
The wind shifted, the dust curling around them in silent anticipation.
And the battle began.