The buzzing of the crickets was relentless, a maddening cacophony that echoed across the barren expanse. Andrew watched from the ridge, his breaths shallow and uneven, his legs radiating pain with every small adjustment of his weight. Beside him, Mella crouched low, her narrowed eyes locked on the distant chaos where Croen fought the swarm.
"Still no sign of his teammates," she murmured, her voice low but tense.
Andrew grunted in response, his gaze flickering to the horizon. He couldn't let his focus slip for even a moment—if Croen's team appeared, it would mean more trouble than they could handle. His leg throbbed again, sharp and insistent, reminding him of the toll his super jump had taken. He flexed his fingers around the hilt of his sword, testing the strength in his grip.
**One more jump.** The thought ran through his mind like a warning bell. **That's all I've got left before I'm useless for days.**
The faint shimmer of the rift that had swallowed them earlier began to waver and fade, its edges collapsing in on themselves. Andrew's heart skipped a beat as the suffocating air of the strange realm was replaced by the familiar dryness of earth's atmosphere. The sand underfoot felt different now, grittier, more real.
Ahead, Croen stumbled into view, his once-pristine figure bloody and gasping. He leaned heavily on his blade, swiping weakly at the last few crickets that skittered too close. But before Andrew could process the sight fully, a new figure emerged.
"Hames," Mella whispered, her tone cutting like a blade.
Hames stood a good distance away, calm and composed. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, and he seemed utterly unbothered by the carnage surrounding them. He tilted his head slightly, acknowledging Andrew and Mella with an almost bored expression.
"You can go," he said, his voice carrying effortlessly over the expanse.
Andrew froze. Mella stiffened beside him, exchanging a bewildered glance with him. Croen, further ahead, barked out, "What?" His voice was hoarse but filled with outrage. "What are you talking about? We've spent this whole time in there, chasing them, waiting for the right moment, and now—now you're just letting them walk away?"
Hames turned his gaze toward Croen, the faintest hint of annoyance flashing in his eyes. "Shut up, Croen," he said sharply. "What do you want me to do? Kill them? There'll be evidence left behind—evidence that doesn't work in my favor. And besides…" His lips curled into a smirk. "Andrew's destined to become great. Killing him now would be a waste."
Croen's face twisted with fury, but he clenched his jaw, seemingly forcing himself to stay silent.
Hames waved his hand dismissively toward Andrew and Mella. "Go on, then," he said, motioning them away with a lazy flick of his fingers.
Andrew and Mella hesitated, their bodies taut with unease.
"Of course," Hames added, as if remembering something important, "if you tell anyone about what you've seen or what I've done, I'll be forced to do things I don't want to do. On earth. So, promise me—you'll keep your mouths shut."
Andrew hesitated, his mind racing. Finally, he nodded, his voice steady. "Sure."
Hames turned his attention to Mella, his grin sharp and unsettling. "And you?"
Mella swallowed hard, then nodded. "Yes."
Andrew slipped his arm around her, pulling her closer. "Hold on," he muttered.
The super jump came with a surge of power that tore through his legs like fire. They soared through the air, landing far from Hames and Croen. The moment they hit the ground, Andrew crumpled, rolling over as a scream tore through his throat. He clamped his jaw shut, biting down on the pain, but his entire body trembled as he gripped his legs.
"Andrew!" Mella knelt beside him, her hands hovering as if afraid to touch him. "What's wrong?"
"Jumping… does that," he rasped, his voice thick with agony.
Her brow furrowed as she muttered, "A similar ability… like the scythe crickets. And the bland slime…"
Andrew said nothing, his jaw tightening as he fought to push himself upright.
Mella helped him to his feet, looping his arm over her shoulder to steady him. Together, they limped toward the city in the distance, their progress slow and arduous.
By the time they reached Andrew's apartment building, the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon. Mella practically dragged him up the stairs, her own energy flagging with every step. The landlord on the first floor shot them a judgmental look but said nothing, his disapproval silent but palpable.
Inside the apartment, Andrew collapsed onto the couch with a groan. His legs were stiff, the pain making it nearly impossible to move.
Mella dropped to the floor with a sigh, leaning her head back against the wall.
Her breathing was ragged, her shoulders trembling slightly as the day's events weighed heavily on her.
Then, quietly, she began to cry. Her sobs were muffled at first but grew louder, echoing in the small room.
Andrew stared at her, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. "Hey What's up?
She wiped at her face angrily, her voice shaking as the words spilled out. "I came here for a better life. A simple life. To support my family. But now—now I can't even trust my own cousin. I can't report him, and I don't know when he's going to try to kill me again. It's not fair. It's not right. I didn't ask for any of this."
Her hands balled into fists as fresh tears streamed down her face. "And what's worse? I hate that I'm so scared. I'm sick of being scared."
"You're not going to die," he said firmly, though his voice lacked its usual confidence.
Mella's tear-streaked face turned to him, her expression grim. "Your optimism isn't encouraging. How can you even be sure?"
"I'm worried too. But Hames made his move today. He won't try again for a while. People like him don't like to rush things—especially when they think they're in control. We have time to figure this out."
She closed her eyes briefly, nodding, though the tension in her body didn't ease. "I hope so," she whispered.
After an hour, she pushed herself to her feet, wobbling slightly. "I should go."
"Would you feel safe by yourself?"
She hesitated, her hands wringing together. Finally, she admitted softly, "No. But I don't want to tie you down. You have enough on your plate without having to babysit me."
He shook his head firmly. "If being alone scares you, stay."
Her gaze snapped to him, searching his face for any hint of reluctance. Finding none, she hesitated only a moment longer before sitting back down, leaning heavily against the wall. "I was hoping you'd say that," she murmured. "Being by myself right now would drive me insane."
"Same," Andrew admitted.
Mella glanced toward the kitchen, her voice lightening just a bit. "Do you have any alcohol? I want a drink."