"Is that it?" Kael exhales sharply, shaking his head as he rises to his feet. "You succumb to your mother's whims, kill people, revive her, and die?" He scoffs, stretching his shoulders with an air of casual indifference. "What a depressing life."
With a flick of his wrist, he taps his TSI, summoning a message across the holographic interface.
[01] -
[Oi, I've finished creating your equipment. I even managed to make you that cape you wanted with the outer shell of the heart. There wasn't a lot to work with, so I focused on defense. It came out decent, I guess.
I placed your gear in your safe and withdrew my payment. Your cape—cloak, whatever the fuck you wanna call it—is on your chair. My guess is you want it now, so it's right there.
PS: I used 500,000 platinum coins worth of materials for the equipment, and 200,000 for your cape. Thanks for your patronage! Don't forget to tip me! (＾ω＾)]
Kael's eye twitches. 'Damn you, Eira.' A groan of pure exasperation slips through his lips. 'It's not just my money in that safe, you idiot! What materials did she use?' His fingers tighten around the interface as his thoughts race. 'Half a million platinum? That's ridiculous. What the hell did she even make me!?'
Crackle!
Kael barely reacts as a rusted old sword slashes toward his neck. With a swift motion, he raises his gloved hand, catching the brittle blade mid-swing. The second it collides with his reinforced grip, the metal snaps in two, fragments of the weapon falling to the ground in a worthless heap.
He lifts an eyebrow. "An old sword? Seriously?" His tone is caught between amusement and disappointment as he flicks the broken piece away, turning to face Leena.
With a sigh, Leena tosses the useless handle aside and strides past him, barely acknowledging his unimpressed reaction. "I don't usually carry weapons," she states flatly. "That sword was the training sword I used as a child."
Her crimson eyes lift to the sky, but her focus isn't on the heavens. Whispers. They flow through the air, crawling into her mind like vines constricting her thoughts. Her body stiffens as the distant murmurs of the dungeon's voice surround her, filling the silence with an eerie hum.
"My core and physical strength reset every time I'm reborn," she murmurs as if speaking to herself. "The dungeon shares its power with me to match the adventurers who appear, but… most of its power is focused on Mother."
The whispers continue, twisting through her thoughts, pressing against the edges of her mind.
"Even so," she continues, her voice barely above a whisper, "that attack should've been fast enough to kill a low-tier martial artist… which you are—supposed to be." She exhales, shutting her eyes. And just like that—the whispers stop.
She looks at Kael, frustration flickering in her gaze like dying embers.
"Die peacefully by my hands," she states coldly. "Your only alternative is a painful death." Her words are final, absolute. "There is no third option. Do you think I'd be here if there was?"
Her feet move before she realizes it. One step forward. Another. And then she's in front of him, grabbing the front of his shirt, her fingers clenching the fabric with a force just shy of desperation.
"I'm trying to be nice here, okay!?" Her voice cracks slightly, and she grits her teeth in frustration. "I'm giving you the easy way out!"
'You simply gave up.'
And yet—he just stands there. Not even a flicker of concern, no sign of panic, no sense of fear. His hazel eyes are impossibly calm, like an unshaken tide against a raging storm.
Leena's grip tightens. "Why…?" The question is barely a whisper. "Just… why aren't you reacting like a normal human!?" Her hands tremble as she pushes him back, shoving him away as if that alone could break his unshakable stance.
'What would panicking solve?'
"There's no way out!" she yells, her voice raw. "You're dying one way or another! So why!? Why aren't you afraid!?"
'I Wish I knew.'
Her breathing is uneven, her chest rising and falling with deep, frustrated gasps. But Kael simply stares at her, unbothered, unshaken.
Leena scoffs, turning away sharply. "Fine. You want to see the end of it?" Her tone is bitter, laced with something Kael can't quite place. "Be my guest." She clenches her fists, shoulders tense. "Die in pain for all I care."
★ ★ ★ ★ ★
"Ugh… it's so bright."
Cora groans, lifting her hand to shield her eyes from the blinding sunlight. Why am I lying down? The soft caress of the wind rustles the endless expanse of green grass around her, each blade swaying in hypnotic unison. The familiar scent of earth and fresh air fills her lungs. The sky stretches endlessly above, a familiar blue with puffy white clouds.
Recognition sparks in her mind. This place…
It's home. The field where she spent countless hours training, fighting, learning—growing. A place where bruises healed with laughter, where calloused hands gripped swords heavier than her body should've been able to wield. This was where she became who she was.
Wake up.
A long, satisfied stretch earns a soft sigh from her lips, her muscles loosening as she adjusts to the gentle breeze. "That was a crazy dream," she murmurs, her voice groggy, almost reluctant to leave the peace of her surroundings.
It's not real.
"What did I tell you about laying here?"
A shadow falls over her, interrupting the sunlight's embrace. A man—his features obscured by the golden rays behind him—stands above her, hand extended in an offering. His tone is scolding, but the warmth beneath it is unmistakable.
"I told you to stop sleeping outside or you'll get sick," he says. "Doesn't matter how strong you are, everyone is vulnerable to diseases."
Cora blinks up at him, momentarily dazed.
Stop dreaming.
"Oh, come on," she scoffs, rolling her eyes. "I'm li-te-ra-lly one of the strongest in my field," she boasts with a grin, dragging out each syllable in playful defiance.
He won't ever return.
She reaches up to take his hand—
Don't forget who you are.
Crack.
Who we are.
Her fingers freeze mid-air.
Why we're fighting.
The sky fractures like glass, thin spiderwebbed lines crawling across the heavens. The grass beneath her shrivels, dissolving into nothingness. Cold seeps into her bones as reality shatters.
The illusion collapses in an instant.
Cora's expression turns frigid, her amusement replaced with an icy resolve. She rolls her neck, the satisfying pops echoing against the nothingness surrounding her.
"Illusions don't work on me."
A growl rumbles low in her throat as her grip tightens around the hilt of her greatsword, muscles coiling in anticipation.
A soft, sultry giggle ripples through the air, smooth and teasing.
"Oh~ But I think they do..."
A voice drips with amusement, lingering like the touch of silk.
"Hmmm… what to do~ what to do~"
Ithiona cups her cheek, feigning deep thought as she idly plays with the edge of her blindfold. A slow smirk tugs at her lips, the expression both taunting and indulgent. "Tell you what, sweetheart~" she coos, tilting her head as if offering some grand favor.
"Why don't you go chase after that elf, hm? Aren't you afraid his actions will kill the man you love?"
Her tone is playful, almost lilting, but the underlying weight of command coils like a viper beneath the words.
"Help that dumb muscle-head, will ya? I promise I won't interfere~"
Cora exhales sharply, rubbing her forehead as her gaze flicks behind her.
"Dammit! These idiots..."
The sight before her makes her stomach twist in frustration. The rest of her group—standing completely still.
Eyes blank. Bodies unmoving.
Trapped.
A cold exhale escapes her lips, her fingers flexing around her sword. "You won't kill them?" she asks, voice edged with suspicion.
Ithiona gasps dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest as if deeply wounded by the accusation.
"Oh my~ I would never!"
Then, with a teasing hum, she licks her lips, lifting a delicate finger.
"I could never kill someone weaker than me."
The weight of her words hangs in the air, thick and suffocating.
Not a declaration of mercy.
A declaration of boredom.