One of the rocks suddenly slips through, throwing off my rhythm, and the rest follow suit, clattering to the ground.

Shit.

I pause, taking a break as my breathing comes in ragged gasps, my body drenched in sweat.

Fuck that psychopath.

Running all the way from the Isles to the volcanic region—a journey of over 400 km—was manageable, but doing it while maintaining a decent level of Overdrive non-stop and at full speed? That was a whole different thing. And as if that wasn't enough, I had to juggle rocks with my tendrils along the way.

Too much. Way too much.

Handling one to five rocks at a time is fine, but once I hit six, fatigue creeps in, and the difficulty ramps up. Now juggling eight? Well…

I drop my backpack onto the ground with a thud.

I'm traversing the Riftflow now, and it's impossible to miss how the jellyfish avoid me, keeping their distance as if afraid. I have a feeling it's either because I defeated the boss or maybe a side effect of wearing the equipment it dropped.

Could it be the same for the others? Either way, it's a blessing—having to dodge those things while juggling and running would've made this insanity even worse.

Using my magnetized tendrils, I open my backpack and grab a water container. I splash some water into my mouth and over my face. It's refreshing, but it's not enough to settle my agitation.

I stretch out on the floor, taking a much-needed break. My gaze wanders across the Riftflow, and old memories rush back—not all of them good.

So, where's the next boss gonna be? The Arthropod region, the volcanic area, the swamp?

And what about the new equipment? I wouldn't mind a cool-looking helmet or some badass armor.

I grin at the thought of how I might look after gathering all seven boss drops. By then, I'll probably be soaring effortlessly through the air.

I chuckle to myself. Flying, huh?

Honestly, I'm not far from that. With the new equipment, my Stage Progress boost, and my steady improvements in magnetization efficiency and wave output, I can feel the barrier getting closer every day. Heck, the next training is about holding my weight in the air for 20 seconds over lava!

Sure, I still need to push Overdrive values beyond the full-state, but… we're getting there.

Then again, why over lava? Sure, the hot air might provide some upward force, but… that's got to be minimal.

Hmm… yeah, not buying it. I bet the sadistic bastard just wants to use the threat of falling into lava to force me to stay up.

I shake my head. I still can't believe I'm actually going through all this shit.

Well, whatever. Since the day I entered this damn Tower, these have probably been the best moments I've ever had.

Sure, it's hellish training, but I have Ayu now. And that… that's more than enough. That's all the motivation I need. I couldn't care less about Chiara's greater good. But Ayu and my mom? Yeah, I'd walk over lava for them if I had to.

I take a final deep breath and sling my backpack over my shoulder.

Time to keep going.

I calm my mind and begin lifting one rock at a time with my tendrils, finding the rhythm as I juggle all eight. Slowly, I push Overdrive back up and start running again.

Still a long way to go.

"So, what do you think?" Houston asked as Darius observed the recordings of Alonso fighting against an enhanced Screecher.

Darius narrowed his eyes, a small grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "Yes, he's getting there. It's curious how his progress deviates so much from mine. I didn't touch that realm of perception until after I broke through in my sword skills. Yet, he's still far from a qualitative change in his swordsmanship while being so close to stepping into that realm of perception: Enemy as Self."

"Enemy as Self," Houston echoed, raising an eyebrow. "I suppose you came up with that name?"

Darius smiled. "When you add it to your notes, make sure I get the proper credit."

"But curious. You never mentioned these so-called realms before. I think knowing about them could be very beneficial for planning the next steps."

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"Hmm. I'll have to disagree, brother. Knowing them might do more harm than good. You see, Alonso asked me a question the other day—a very good one. He wondered if the skill I've achieved with the sword is a unique approach driven by the characteristics of this virtual world or if it exists beyond it, in reality. That made me think. What applies to a special existence like us doesn't necessarily transfer to a complete being like Alonso," Darius said, his eyes drifting to a painting on the wall.

Houston stayed silent, processing his words. "A matter worth exploring. So, you mentioned this thing called Enemy as Self, and that Alonso is getting close to it. What is that about? Understanding the foe? What's he lacking to fully step into it?"

"It's more than understanding the foe. It's about becoming it," Darius replied. "As for Alonso, he's already doing it consciously. From the fight with the king jellyfish, where he took a half-step in, to these recent simulations. What he lacks is for the process to become instinctive. No need to close his eyes or calm himself—it must become like breathing, completely unconscious. But don't worry, he'll get there soon. He's already taken the hardest step."

"And pay attention to this brother," Darius's tone shifted, more serious. "This is far more important than advancement in swordsmanship. While the sword is just one of his weapons, perception is about combat as a whole."

Houston clasped his hands on the table and rested his chin on them. "Indeed. So, what do you suggest? Is the current training good enough?"

"You ask a lot of questions," Darius said with a smile. "The training is fine. No need to change anything. The recordings clearly show progress. And didn't you tell him to take Ayu more seriously? Truth is, they can gain a lot from each other, but he has to treat it with the seriousness it deserves. The potential of that girl shouldn't be underestimated. Her ability is far scarier than Alonso—or even you—give her credit for."

"I see," Houston replied. "I'll give it more thought, then. And about those realms you mentioned—what comes after Enemy as Self?"

Darius leaned back in his chair. "I can see why Alonso gets so annoyed with you sometimes."

Houston shook his head. "Are you going to answer or not?"

"The realm beyond that is one I reached almost instantly, due to our… simpler nature, shall we say. Even for you, it wouldn't be difficult. But for Alonso, or any other Climber for that matter, it's a tall mountain to climb. The more complex an entity, the harder it is to fully understand itself. That said, while my ability saw little benefit from reaching this second realm, his… well, his would skyrocket if he ever reached it."

Houston's eyes fixed on Darius. "So, you reckon it won't happen anytime soon?"

"No. And, to save you the trouble, it's something no one will be able to help him with. In fact, any help he receives will be a detriment. Remember when I told you you're just the car? Well, stick to it. You are his scientific mind; I am his sword. That's all. The less we intervene, the better his chances of ever reaching that stage."

Houston slowly nodded, then turned to Darius. "Alright. That was quite informative. Anything else you want to add?"

"No. However, I do have a favor to ask."

Houston was caught off guard, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Now that's a new one. What is it?"

"The simulations Alonso has been facing—I'd like to try them myself, if it's not too much trouble."

Houston stared at him, his gaze lingering before a smile broke across his face. "Sure. But it's something I'll need to divert resources to, so limit it to two hours a day, maximum. And… I suppose the current stats are too low to challenge you. I'll revise them and let you know when it's ready."

"I appreciate the effort, dear brother," Darius said, inclining his head slightly before vanishing.

Houston leaned back in his chair. Well, this could turn out to be quite useful.

He smiled to himself and teleported back to his tower.

"AHHHH!"

Fuck! FUCK! SHIT!

I scramble across the ground, my boots smoldering, the skin on my feet charred and screaming in agony.

What the hell is this?!

"Dammit, dammit!" I hiss through clenched teeth, grabbing my knees and pulling them tight against my chest as the searing pain tears through me.

Tears sting the corners of my eyes.

Pain tolerance, my ass! Fuck you, Houston!

I lay back, still gripping my legs, my body trembling as waves of agony crash over me. My breathing is ragged, and sweat drips off me in streams, the oppressive heat from the lava pool making everything so much worse.

Above a damn lava pool. What kind of deranged masochist am I?

"Lava won't kill you," he said. Damn it, I'd like to shove his smug head into molten lava and see how long he lasts.

Time drags. Every second feels like an eternity. The pain, though, starts to dull—barely.

Is it him doing something? My body regenerating? Or maybe my nerves are just fried to the point I can't feel shit anymore.

I slump against the ground, my body drenched in sweat, every breath feeling like I'm about to dehydrate into dust.

With a shaky motion, I extend a tendril to drag my backpack closer. I fumble it open and grab a water container, draining it in one go before tossing it aside.

The pain is fading—thank god.

I breathe steadily, but my legs feel like lead. There's no way I'm walking anytime soon.

Seriously, what kind of sadistic training is this? Burning myself like this after just one round? Where's the logic in any of this? So much research and science, and this—this childish, nonsensical, twisted horror-movie training—is what he comes up with?

Twenty seconds. Twenty fucking seconds! I made it to sixteen, and one slight misstep was all it took for my feet to plunge into the lava.

Even when I tried pushing upward, practically walking on the lava to reach the edge, my feet still got roasted. My boots? Gone.

Dammit.

I lay back on the hot ground, trying to calm myself. Getting angry will only make things worse.

I stare at the sky, running a hand through my damp hair. My breathing is uneven, and I gulp down air in slow, deliberate breaths.

I let the time pass, the world around me quiet, until I feel vibrations in the ground, faint but distinct, coming from afar.

A Screecher? Perfect timing, as always. I smirk to myself.

But then I notice the sound is different—sharper, lighter. Not a big creature. It's more like… several smaller ones. Climbers?

I narrow my eyes.

I am seriously not in the mood.

Leaning forward, I glance at my feet. Charred flesh climbs all the way to my ankles, raw and blistered, oozing slightly, the stench of burnt meat heavy.

The pain has dulled, but standing...

Well, let's see.

I slide my mask on and shift my body in their direction, my senses extending to meet them.

I feel their scouting waves hit. They notice my presence.

So, what's your move?

I see them stop, hesitation in their formation. My senses map their figures: seven of them, with one that I remember—the sling ambusher.

I'm really tired of this shit.

I send out a wave of my own.

"If you don't want to die… leave."

They flinch slightly, but… they don't move.

I sense them, their heads tilted toward one another, silently communicating through waves.

My expression darkens.

I am not trying to hide myself, so they've probably noticed the state I'm in. But… are they really going to try this again?

I sense them finally shifting, moving in my direction. There's hesitation, but also purpose. They draw their slings and begin circling around me.

Closer.

Closer.

Until I can see them with my bare eyes.

My gaze locks with one of them—the one who already tried to kill me once. His eyes are sharp, filled with determination and killing intent.

But why? Is this just for Siddharth? Or is there something else? Jealousy? Maybe they want to steal my equipment?

Perhaps… I've been too soft.

I close my eyes.

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