--
The hole in the wall twitched.
A wet, grinding sound crawled out of the inferno as something inside began to move.
"It's not dead!" I shouted.
Aoki was already in motion, stepping back as her blades slid into position.
"I'll take the gestalt," I said. "We've got company—focus on them."
A shriek of pure agony tore through the flames as the creature dragged itself upright, rats boiling back together from the scorched floor, blood-red eyes blooming across its half-formed mass.
"Don't die," Aoki muttered, sparing the morphing horror one last glance before sprinting toward the incoming level-zero mobs.
"I don't plan on dying twice," I growled, teeth clenched as fire detonated around my fist, pain ripping up my arm once again.
{'Extinguishing surrounding hellfire is advised, sir. Maintaining the flames requires continuous mana expenditure.'}
"Wha—"
Something launched from the hole.
Fast.
A blur of mass and teeth tore through the air toward me, the shockwave flattening embers in its wake.
Too fast… it's too fast.
The shadow swelled in my vision, grotesque details snapping into focus despite its speed—a half-formed head, serpentine and wrong, its maw yawning wide as rows of teeth and fangs vibrated with unmistakable killing intent.
I could see it.
And that was the problem.
My body wouldn't respond.
No, it was moving, just not fast enough. My reflexes lagged. My muscles refused to cooperate.
I can't dodge.
The world narrowed until there was nothing left but rats and teeth rushing to fill it.
Am I going to die?
The thought slipped in quietly.
Is this it…?
…
…
…
Silence stretched—thick and suffocating—as if the world itself were waiting for an answer.
Then it came.
Nox's voice cut through the void, cold and absolute.
{'MANUAL OVERRIDE.'}
----
(Aoki's POV)
My body felt strangely light as I sprinted toward the mob.
Everything feels surreal.
One moment I had been meditating. The next, I was thrown into a fight for survival. The shift was overwhelming.
It's really been a long day.
The first mutant entered my range.
Ember.
My eyes flicked to the appraisal for only an instant before refocusing ahead.
It was disturbing.
As the flickering lights revealed more of its form, that unease deepened—but my expression didn't change. It remained stoic.
Just as the sanctuary taught.
My thoughts drifted there as I dropped low, feet gliding across the floor. Memories surfaced unbidden, settling on a single face—soft eyes, a gentle smile.
I wonder how she's doing. Was she also at the white space, or did she—
The thought cut off as I sank lower, daggers flashing with quiet resolve.
The weight of the blades—once a burden—now felt natural. Like an extension of myself.
There's no time to think about that now.
I have to survive.
I need to help him.
He can't face the gestalt alone.
He'll die.
My thoughts grew still as the reality of this place settled in. Leaving wasn't guaranteed.
A jagged claw swept toward me.
My pupils flared, amethyst light blooming as a cold calm settled over my mind.
I need to get stronger.
The thought faded, replaced by a quiet resolve as a whisper left my lips.
"Breathblade."
The word barely left my mouth.
The air responded as my breathing changed.
Not faster.
Not slower.
Just… steadier. Deeper.
The tension in my chest eased as each breath found its rhythm, thoughts thinning until only motion and intent remained.
The noise of the room dulled—footsteps, screeches, the scrape of claws against tile. Even the vibrations faded, as if submerged beneath still water.
My steps softened.
Far more than during training.
I was moving at the same speed, yet my feet no longer struck the floor, they passed over it, as though I were gliding. Momentum flowed cleanly through my body.
There was no hesitation, no wasted motion.
The daggers shifted in my grip.
They felt lighter. Sharper.
Their weight redistributed, balance settling naturally into my wrists. Every minute adjustment—angle, pressure, timing, became instinctive, guided by the rise and fall of my breath.
A thin current formed along their edges, invisible at first, then barely perceptible.
It looked like a distortion, like heat rising from stone, curling around the metal, aligning perfectly with my silent breathing.
The mutant lunged.
I inhaled.
'Slow.'
Its claw passed through the space where my head had been a moment earlier. My body slipped aside with only a minimal turn of hips and ankles.
I exhaled.
The blade moved.
There was no resistance—just a clean passage, as though cutting through mist. The edge aligned perfectly with its neck, tracing through flesh and bone. The creature staggered forward a single step before collapsing behind me, its head rolling free.
I didn't look back.
Another came, faster this time.
Breath in.
The world sharpened. Patterns emerged—weight shifts, intent written in muscle tension, movement flowing ahead of conscious thought.
Breath out.
A short step. A precise arc.
The dagger whispered through the air, pressure snapping shut like a heartbeat as the body fell.
I felt no rush of power.
No drain.
No hunger.
Only clarity.
So this is it, I realized calmly.
My Gene Skill, Breathblade Flow.
Not strength.
Not power.
…but control.
I adjusted my stance, breath steady, blades ready, as multiple zeros lunged at me with pure intent to butcher.
My expression remained stoic. Not a ripple disturbed my gaze as amethyst irises watched them close in.
Max just needed time.
And I intended to give it to him.
----
(Max's POV)
BOOOM!
Flame and dust erupted as a figure was hurled from the collapsing cloud.
The body hit the concrete hard, skidding across the floor before coming to a stop.
Silence followed.
The settling dust, the distant clash of mobs—everything faded, as though the world itself had pulled away. The figure lay motionless.
Dead.
The dust cloud thinned, revealing the half-regenerated, serpentine gestalt.
It let out a strained hiss, its voice croaking as green fluid seeped steadily from torn flesh.
Its remaining eye snapped across the room, searching—then locked onto the still figure.
Everything else ceased to matter. Breath, movement, sound—all ignored as its gaze burned with hatred, hunger, pain… and something unexpected.
Fear.
The motionless body twitched.
Then slowly sat up, eyes still closed.
The gestalt lunged at once with insane ferociousness.
Its massive form slithered forward with terrifying speed, green light pulsing through its frame as every rat within its body focused on a single goal—extermination.
Time seemed to stretch.
As though the world itself had slowed, the figure raised his head.
His eyelids lifted.
His gaze locked onto the oncoming corrupted creature.
Green light and writhing rats reflected in a single, glowing scarlet iris.