Silence had finally settled.

I lay there, stretched out on the warm vine, my back pressed against its living surface, eyes lost in a sky that had turned clear again. The shadow was gone. The storm, the celestial maw, the rumble — all of it had fallen quiet. Only that strange blue remained, almost pure, still vibrating with a light too clean to be natural.

My head buzzed. Every heartbeat echoed in my skull like a hammer. I had the taste of dried blood on my tongue, my muscles numb, my throat burning. Fatigue had crossed the threshold of pain — it had become a presence, a silent companion lying beside me.

I slowly raised one arm, palm open to the sky, just to check if I could still move. Yes. Barely. But it was enough.

I breathed — long, deep. The air tasted of ozone and burned flowers, a bittersweet scent that clung to the skin.

I rolled to the side and reached toward the void, opening the dimensional fold of my kimono. A shiver of mana answered immediately — the fabric glowed faintly, and the pocket opened with a soft breath. I pulled out a small piece of dried meat and a flask of clear water.

My movements were mechanical.

No thought. No emotion. Just a routine carved by hunger and blood.

I chewed the meat slowly. It carried that metallic, dry flavor of training days — the taste of survival.I took a sip. Not enough to quench my thirst, but enough to fool my body.

The liquid was lukewarm, bland. I didn't care.

I tightened the rope around my waist. My spear, Aurelia, stood a few meters away, embedded in the vine's flesh — a marker in the infinite.

I closed my eyes.

Breathing returned on its own — slow, disciplined.

I inhaled deeply, letting the ambient mana seep through my skin, then into my veins. Golden filaments formed immediately, coiling around me, linking to the invisible threads of the world.

Each breath made the vine beneath me tremble, as if it were breathing with me.

The mana was dense here — warm, liquid. It flowed through me, too pure to be natural, too alive to be tamed.And with every pulse, the pain returned. First a dull burn behind my bandage, then a sharper throb.

I clenched my teeth. The scar burned hot, pulsing as if something beneath it wanted to open.

A memory surfaced — dry, precise.

Azrakan.

I saw his smile again.

His deep, almost gentle voice echoed in my head:

"Your noble races… your arrogant elves, your decadent humans, your greedy dwarves… they are the colonizers. They're the ones who tore our lands from us."

"You understand, don't you? You're the tools of your oppressors. The toys of your false gods. And I… I came to remind you of that."

I snapped my eyes open, banishing the ghost of his voice. Not now. Not here. I didn't have the luxury of hating gods tonight.

I placed a hand over my eyepatch and drew a deep breath. The pain ebbed, replaced by that familiar emptiness — that artificial calm you learn to build when everything around you burns.

I could still feel mana's warmth coursing through my arms, throbbing in my temples.

A golden thread crossed the air above me, fading slowly into the wind.

This world won't take me. Not before I understand how it works, I thought.

I stayed like that for a while, suspended between exhaustion and resolve. The meat, the water, the meditation — it had all done its job. A small improvement, barely noticeable, but enough to stop the trembling.

My breathing had steadied. My thoughts too.

But every movement was still a battle: my muscles burned, my skin pulled tight, and my head protested with every breath.

The sky above stretched endlessly — blue, calm, deceitful.

I looked at it one last time before whispering, almost to myself:

— I have to finish this dungeon before something happens to them.

The wind answered with a murmur.

I began to move again, one step after another, walking the vine like a tightrope walker lost between two worlds.

The Garden could devour me slowly — I'd endure it, no matter what it cost.

Under my boots, the vine vibrated, moaning softly like a sleeping beast. I followed it in silence, Aurelia in hand, eyes fixed on the floating island outlined ahead above the void.

The island drew closer — a fragment of suspended earth, covered in pale flowers and translucent grass bathed in golden light. Everything there looked peaceful. Almost welcoming.

I jumped from the vine and landed heavily, knees bent, muscles still stiff with fatigue.

The ground was warm, almost soft beneath my boots.

I stood still for a moment, listening. Nothing. Not a breath, not a rustle. Even the wind had stopped.

I took a few steps through the grass. Each blade shimmered with a gentle light, like a silent choir beneath my feet.

Then the ground quivered. First faintly. Then stronger. Enough for the vibration to climb up my legs.

I looked up.

Something was moving around me.

Shapes emerged from the light — first blurry, almost translucent. Then the mist fell away, revealing their forms.

Strange creatures — barely five feet tall, slender, supple, half-human, half-beast. Their skin shimmered with a pearly glow; their pupil-less eyes gleamed like gemstones. Feathers. Claws. Faces almost beautiful, almost human. There were a hundred of them — a herd of distorted beauty.

I froze, breath held.

— Seriously… I muttered. You couldn't wait for me to recover a bit?

I gripped Aurelia with both hands. My heart was pounding too fast, too hard. The thought of using Genesis crossed my mind — a reflex, almost comforting.

But I shoved it away instantly.

No.

Not now.

If I used what little mana I had left, I'd collapse. And these things would devour me before I even hit the ground.

I could almost feel the void spinning behind my eyelids.

I took a slow, low, trembling breath.

— Just the spear, huh… I whispered.

This would be a fight of endurance.

The horde answered — not with a roar, but with laughter. A light, crystalline, almost childlike laughter — an echo of beauty that made the scene even more disturbing.

They began circling me, so fast the light itself blurred. Their shapes formed a moving ring — a wheel of feathers and flesh, of fangs and luminous eyes. The sound of their steps merged into one single vibration, a monstrous heartbeat.

One of them lunged.

I turned, the blade tracing a clean arc. The strike started from my hip, rose to the collarbone. The body split — and the blood burst out. Not red — gold. Thick, hot gold. It splattered across my face, coated my lips. The taste of burned metal filled my throat.

I spat to the side.

— Disgusting.

But I had no time to breathe.

Another jumped on my back. I felt its claws dig into my skin. I turned sharply, drove Aurelia's shaft into its jaw, lifted it with a jerk, and slammed it to the ground. Its skull hit the earth with a dull crack, bursting into golden spray. The hot liquid ran down my neck — sticky, almost alive.

It made me nauseous.

The others attacked all at once.

A wave.

A wall of bodies and teeth.

I blocked the first strike, dodged the second, slashed the third at the throat. I wasn't thinking anymore. Every move came on its own, instinctive. The body acted. The mind barely followed.

I cut. I spun. I moved.

The air throbbed, heavy with blood and mana.

Each strike unleashed a rain of gold that clung to my arms, my hair, my lips. I was drenched, splattered with their essence — a tide of dirty light.

A cry tore from my throat. Not of pain — of rage.

I struck again. And again. The shaft tore my palms raw, human blood mixing with theirs. Gold and red ran together, dripping down to my wrists.

A bite at my leg.

I screamed, twisted, grabbed the creature by the throat. Its teeth stayed lodged in my flesh. I pulled. My skin gave with a sickening crack.

I slammed it to the ground, one hand on its head — and with a sharp twist, broke its neck. Its blood splashed across my chest.

I was covered — literally — in warm gold.

I spat again, breath ragged. The metallic taste filled my mouth.

I stumbled back a step. The ground slid beneath my boots, coated in a viscous, gleaming layer.

Around me, the creatures hesitated, circling, watching. Their song had stopped. Their beauty, stained by carnage, reflected my own image — a panting beast, drenched in blood, eyes wild.

I straightened, Aurelia raised, ready to start again.

I trembled.

My arms burned. Each breath felt like a knife in my ribs. But I stood my ground.

— Come on, I muttered.

As long as I have breath left…

They lunged again.

And so did I.

The spear whirled through the air, carving a perfect circle. The shock tore at my shoulders, but I didn't stop. One, two, three bodies fell. A claw raked across my side — white-hot pain. I struck back without thought, backhanding the next creature, shattering its jaw.

Golden blood burst in sprays, covering my eye.

I wiped it off with a snarl — a raw, guttural sound that no longer resembled a voice but the cry of an animal refusing the grave.

The taste of blood and light clung to my lips. The warmth of golden liquid still ran down my arms, and my knees buckled beneath me.

Around me, the horde wavered. Only twenty or so remained. Their shrill laughter rang like mad bells, and I knew I had only two or three breaths left before everything went dark.

They charged again — joyous, certain of their victory.

There was no more room for strategy, no space for calculation: only instinct and fury remained.

I gripped Aurelia with both hands, until my knuckles screamed.

A name surfaced — a path I'd learned through sweat and repetition:

— Crimson Lance Art — Second Movement: The Emergence of the First Ray!

I braced, pivoted — like a summit releasing its storm.

My shoulders traced a perfect circle in the air; a red arc flared around me — a blade of crimson light born from Aurelia's shaft, extended by sheer will.

The spear sang — and the world bent to its song.

The beasts leapt, charged, bit the dust — and the blade passed through.

These weren't wild swings but one continuous motion — coherent, relentless: bodies slicing through the air, severed clean as if by a wire heated white.

Crimson light splattered the grass, and the remaining figures fell in a rain of golden blood that drenched the ground.

It was beautiful — and terrible.

The red arc drew a circle around me; I kept turning, faster than my own heartbeat, and every beast that dared approach was cut, divided, silenced.

The effort burned me to the bone; my legs shook, my palms were torn, my breath a ragged rasp — but the dance went on, because I willed it.

When the last body fell, the blade faded like a dying star.

I stood at the center, swaying, Aurelia buried in the earth like a mast to keep me upright.

All around, calm returned — damp, heavy, like a wet shroud.

I smiled — a rough laugh that broke into coughing, then spat — dark and bitter — a mouthful of golden fluid clogging my throat.

— So… I finally managed to use it, I murmured between coughs, blood clinging to my tongue and burning like metal. The training had paid off.

My body protested, screaming its coming defeat: every breath a struggle, every movement a punishment.

Pain bloomed everywhere, and my wounds reminded me I was no immortal.

Then a sound cut the air — faint, distant, but sharp. I squinted through the haze clouding my vision. My muscles tensed; I clenched my jaw, ready to strike down whatever dared approach — ready to kill again.

— Come out! I shouted, voice breaking, as I straightened, eyes sharp again, jaw tight, ready to cut down without mercy whoever appeared.

Then, like a clot of silence in the storm, a voice rose — weak, familiar:

— Kaito…

The world tilted.

All my senses contracted, like strings being cut one by one. My sight blurred into blotches, sound receded like the tide, and I answered — voice reduced to a whisper from the depths of a pit:

— Ah… it's you…

My words ended on a laugh — almost disbelieving. Then night took me. The last thing I felt before everything sank was the warmth of blood on my lips, and that voice — close yet unreadable — floating through the air.

And the sharp, foolish certainty that I would be safe with her.

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