Lucanis opened his eyes with a loud yawn.

  A rare feeling for him: he had slept well. Deeply.

  His body—usually so tense—felt loose, rested, ready to bite into a new day.

  He stretched at length, arms raised toward the sky, a blissful smile on his lips.

  “Mmmh… I’d forgotten what a real night’s sleep felt like…”

  The sunlight bathed the inside of the rocky outcrop in a soft, warm glow.

  But something immediately struck him.

  The silence.

  Not the silence of nature.

  The silence of human absence.

  Lucanis frowned and slowly pushed himself upright.

  No Kael.

  No Althéa.

  He glanced around:

  Althéa’s bow was still there.

  Kael’s Needle-Blade too.

  “…What? Wait… I was supposed to take the second watch… wasn’t I?”

  A chill ran down his spine.

  He jumped to his feet.

  “Oh no. No, no, no…”

  He rushed out of the shelter, eyes scanning the landscape.

  To the right. Nothing.

  To the left—

  His gaze froze.

  Two figures on the ground.

  About thirty meters away.

  He ran. His heart was pounding wildly.

  “Not this… don’t do this… not them…”

  He stopped short when he reached them.

  Kael, lying on his back, arms stretched wide.

  Althéa, slumped over him, her face buried against his shoulder.

  Blood.

  Everywhere.

  “Fuck…”

  They were covered in bruises, scratches, open wounds.

  Their faces swollen, battered.

  And yet…

  There was something peaceful in their features.

  Even their eyelids, puffed and heavy, seemed as though they had shed every tear in the world.

  Lucanis murmured, incredulous:

  “But… what the hell did you do to each other…?”

  He placed a hand on Althéa’s shoulder.

  She stirred slightly.

  Then slowly, she opened her eyes.

  She blinked, disoriented. Her gaze drifted downward—and froze.

  She was lying on Kael.

  She jolted upright, scarlet-faced, and rolled aside with a rustle like dead leaves.

  Kael opened his eyes in turn. It took him a second to grasp what was happening, then he shot upright as well.

  His face burned just as hot.

  “…Okay. Uh.”

  An awkward silence settled in.

  Lucanis, arms crossed, stared at them with complete incomprehension.

  Kael broke the ice, sounding as casual as a man who had slept on a bed of nails:

  “I’m starving. So… we eating?”

  Lucanis stared at him.

  Kael—face bloodied, eyes swollen, uniform torn—pushed himself to his feet with a pained grimace…

  …as if nothing had happened.

  Back at the camp, silence had settled again.

  Not the silence of discomfort this time, but the silence of exhaustion, empty stomachs, and battered bodies.

  The three of them sat around the fire. Lucanis handed them the meat he had dried the day before—not much, but enough to take the edge off the hunger.

  Kael chewed slowly.

  So did Althéa.

  They didn’t speak.

  But they kept stealing glances at each other.

  Brief.

  Furtive.

  Intense.

  Like flashes of lightning between bites.

  Lucanis, who had been watching them out of the corner of his eye, raised an eyebrow.

  He couldn’t take it anymore.

  “Alright… am I the only one seeing this, or are you two clearly acting weird this morning?”

  No one answered.

  He raised his eyebrow even higher.

  “No, seriously—what’s wrong with you both? You look like two cats who fought and don’t want to admit it.”

  Kael swallowed, then forced an awkwardly relaxed smile, painfully uncomfortable.

  “There’s nothing at all. Me? I’m perfectly normal. Always charming, brilliant, well-balanced—”

  Althéa didn’t let him finish.

  She grabbed the thin, flexible wooden rod lying near the fire and snapped it sharply against his skull.

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  “Your Needle-Blade.

  You hold it. Like I told you. Now.”

  Her voice was sharper than a blade.

  Kael, sheepish, straightened up, obeyed without a word, and retrieved his weapon.

  Lucanis, growing more and more perplexed, stared at them both.

  “Alright. I’ll ask again. For the last time. What happened last night?”

  Kael hesitated, then shrugged.

  “A small… disagreement.

  We decided to settle it the old-fashioned way.”

  He shoved a bite of dry bread into his mouth to avoid having to elaborate.

  But Althéa lifted her chin, pride barely contained.

  “And I hope he learned his lesson.”

  “Given the state of his face, I’d say I hit pretty hard.”

  Kael nearly choked on his mouthful.

  “Me?!

  Look at your eye—you look like overripe fruit.

  Want me to draw you a picture? You’re the one who lost.”

  They glared at each other. Again.

  A shiver of electric tension in the air.

  One step away from starting all over.

  Lucanis raised both hands, exasperated.

  “Stop.

  Stop, I’m begging you.”

  He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.

  “I slept like a baby, and now I’ve got a migraine coming on. You two are unbearable.”

  Silence.

  Then a very faint…

  …very discreet…

  …small laugh. From Althéa.

  Lucanis couldn’t believe it.

  Kael, for his part, smiled to himself.

  But didn’t push it.

  The fire crackled softly. The tension had eased.

  Not erased.

  Just… suspended.

  After the meager meal, they put out the fire, packed their things, and set off again through the canyon.

  The wind had picked up—dry, abrasive.

  But their fur-lined cloaks shielded them well.

  Lucanis tugged at his own to better cover his neck and said,

  “Seriously… these cloaks are perfect.”

  Kael nodded with a crooked smile.

  “Told you. You could’ve asked sooner instead of playing the proud tough guy.”

  Lucanis rolled his eyes, mock-weary.

  “Alright. I admit it. Thanks.”

  Althéa said nothing.

  She simply kept walking, her chin held a little higher than usual.

  Too proud to admit anything.

  Even that she loved her cloak.

  They walked for several hours.

  The silence was often broken by the wind, by the crunch of gravel beneath their steps, and…

  by furtive glances.

  Lucanis frowned.

  Something was off.

  Kael and Althéa were walking… strangely close.

  Really close.

  So close they nearly brushed shoulders with every step.

  Lucanis slowed his pace, watching them discreetly.

  Glances.

  Restrained movements.

  And that strange thing… like an invisible bubble between the two of them—one he couldn’t break through.

  What the hell has been going on since this morning…

  He shook his head and sighed.

  A little farther ahead, Kael spotted a stream of fresh water running down a rock face.

  He walked over, pulled out his flask, and filled it.

  Then, without really thinking:

  “Want me to fill yours too?”

  Althéa held hers out.

  Without a word.

  Their hands brushed.

  And in a sharp motion, she smacked him in the back with the wooden rod.

  Kael jumped, spun around, ready to snap back—then stopped.

  “Your Needle-Blade!

  I told you never to let it out of your hand.”

  Lucanis, who had witnessed the scene, opened his mouth.

  Then closed it.

  He rolled his eyes and muttered:

  “What the hell happened last night while I was sleeping, exactly…?”

  They resumed their march, the canyon stretching and winding between the rough cliffs. The wind grew drier, lifting small spirals of dust.

  That’s when they saw them.

  Again.

  A small group of Class-Four creatures—the same kind as the day before. Massive. Twisted. Slow, but brutal.

  Lucanis drew his sword immediately, eyes already locked on the target.

  “This time, I’m cutting them down before they even have time to—”

  Althéa stopped him short with her arm.

  “No. Let him do it.”

  Lucanis blinked.

  “Excuse me? Who exactly is ‘him’?”

  But Kael had already stepped forward.

  Needle-Blade in hand.

  Less hesitant than the day before.

  A touch more confident.

  Not fluid yet.

  He charged.

  The fight was brief—but tense.

  Kael struggled through it.

  His movements were still messy, sometimes poorly balanced.

  His dodges… chaotic, but effective.

  One slash missed its target completely.

  Another barely grazed it.

  But he held his ground.

  Althéa, who had stayed back, watched—taut as a drawn string.

  Every time Kael narrowly avoided a blow, she flinched.

  She even took a step forward, ready to intervene…

  …then stopped herself.

  Lucanis, standing off to the side, missed none of it.

  His eyes shifted from Kael to Althéa.

  Then back again.

  He thought, incredulous:

  She’s worried about him?

  Seriously? …What the hell is going on here…

  In the end, Kael brought the monsters down.

  He straightened, breathing hard, drenched in sweat.

  A small, triumphant smile tugged at his lips.

  “Not bad, right?”

  He turned—

  —and met Althéa’s gaze.

  She immediately strode toward him, fast and upright.

  “That wasn’t not bad,” she said sharply.

  Kael raised an eyebrow.

  She stopped in front of him, locked her eyes onto his, and continued:

  “You leave too many openings after every strike.

  Your footing is unstable.

  And dodging backward like that is suicide against a fast enemy.”

  She grabbed his arm and was already repositioning it, mechanically—like she was drilling a soldier.

  “You need to do this with your shoulder.

  And keep this lower.”

  Kael, surprised, said nothing.

  He let her correct him.

  They had been walking through the canyon for over an hour.

  Kael, now accustomed to receiving sharp taps from the wooden rod against his ribs and back every time his posture slackened, didn’t even flinch anymore.

  He merely ground his teeth a little.

  In silence.

  Lucanis occasionally shot him a glance, shaking his head.

  Althéa, for her part, seemed focused.

  But her movements carried a certain lightness—as if the tension of the past few days had finally eased, just a little.

  Eventually, the path opened onto an exposed cliff, a natural drop marking the end of the canyon.

  They moved toward the edge, slowly.

  And it was Lucanis who broke the silence first.

  “There it is…”

  He was smiling.

  “We’re finally here.”

  Before them, a vast forest stretched as far as the eye could see.

  Dark. Dense.

  Yet beautiful in a strange way—like something pulled straight out of a mist-laden dream.

  And this time… no lake below.

  They hadn’t been going in circles.

  Kael let out a breath of relief.

  “For once, it feels like we’re actually moving forward.”

  Then he narrowed his eyes, frowning.

  “Over there. What’s that thing?”

  “Looks like a tower. Something thin… a beacon?”

  Lucanis followed his gaze and nodded, pleased.

  “Exactly. An anchor beacon.

  It marks a teleportation circle.”

  Kael threw his arms up toward the sky.

  “Finally!”

  “About damn time…”

  Behind him, Althéa stood rigid as a blade.

  Her face was neutral.

  But the faint tremor at the corner of her lips betrayed her satisfaction.

  She was relieved.

  She just wasn’t about to show it.

  Kael looked down the cliffside.

  A natural slope wound along the rock face—gentle, navigable.

  He turned his head toward Lucanis with a crooked smile.

  “This time, I won’t need to shove you into the void.”

  Lucanis rolled his eyes, mock-offended.

  “I was going to jump on my own anyway.”

  Kael snorted, then started down the slope at a light jog, Lucanis close behind him.

  Althéa stayed at the top for a few seconds, gazing at the horizon.

  The morning light illuminated her face.

  She took a deep breath, as if trying to carve this moment into her memory.

  Then she followed.

  They descended the slope carefully, loose earth crunching beneath their boots.

  At the bottom of the canyon, the forest awaited them—dark, dense.

  The beacon was barely two kilometers away—visible in the distance, a slender rod of white stone planted in the ground like a giant bone.

  Not that far.

  Just one last effort.

  Kael was walking behind them when his eyes drifted one last time toward the canyon heights.

  A final glance.

  Almost nostalgic.

  And what he saw froze him solid.

  His breath caught.

  His pupils dilated.

  A chill ran up his spine like an ice spike.

  Up there—at the edge of the cliff—a silhouette stood.

  Black against the sky.

  Upright. Motionless.

  He knew it.

  He knew himself.

  Kael went pale. He stammered, his voice strangled:

  “Uh… something’s really wrong.”

  “Why… why am I on the cliff?”

  Lucanis and Althéa turned around.

  And saw it.

  Silence detonated into pure tension.

  Kael whispered:

  “This is bad.”

  “Really bad…”

  The silhouette moved.

  And it wasn’t movement anymore.

  It was an assault.

  It launched itself down the slope at inhuman speed, bounding from rock to rock like a beast—a sharp, black blur tearing through the air.

  Lucanis shouted:

  “RUN!”

  They ran.

  Without thinking.

  Their legs moved on their own, driven by an ancient, raw, total fear.

  Kael felt his heart pounding in his temples.

  His breath coming in ragged bursts.

  His legs were already burning.

  He screamed, half feral, half terrified:

  “It’s the Class-S!”

  “I’m sure of it! It’s him!”

  They tore through the undergrowth, branches and leaves whipping their faces.

  The ground shook.

  Something was chasing them.

  Something too fast.

  Too precise.