“Alright, you two. Up and at it. We’ve got work to do.”

Shot’s familiar voice stirred Grey and Serene awake. They blinked, their faces turning crimson as they realized they’d been leaning against each other. They quickly stood, avoiding each other's eyes and looking in opposite directions.

“Glad to see you doing better,” Grey said bluntly, his voice a little stiffer than usual.

“Me too,” Shot chuckled, her voice light with amusement. “Now come on, your golden soup is ready. The others are waiting by the cauldron, and Brawl’s starting to get restless.”

They followed Shot back to the cauldron room, where the remaining hunters had gathered. Even Daunt was there, leaning quietly against a wall. The room had been meticulously cleaned, stripped of anything that could interfere with what was about to happen.

“How long did you let me sleep?” Grey asked Keen directly.

Brawl, of course, decided to answer instead. “Long enough to enjoy watching you two all cozy and adorable.” He paused, smirking as Serene immediately hid her face behind Shot, whose laughter echoed through the room. “We figured we’d let you cuddle up for an entire day. It’s already morning again.”

Grey’s face burned red as he fought the urge to leap into the cauldron just to escape the attention.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Elder interjected, though even he was smirking faintly. “Grey, we’re counting on you. We know it’s a lot, but we trust you.”

Grey nodded, scanning the group. Keen’s transformation had been so intense that the room had to be emptied in preparation, leaving only the gleaming cauldron at the center.

“First, I’ll work with Brawl,” Grey said, his voice steady despite the weight of expectation. “I’ll increase his talent, bring it up to Keen’s level. Hopefully, he’ll be able to break through. After that, I’ll form connections with Wild, Shot, and finally Daunt.”

Elder gave a firm nod and stepped forward with a ladle, scooping spoonfuls of the golden liquid for Brawl and Grey to drink.

“Alright, kid, ready?” Brawl asked as he climbed the steps to the cauldron. The golden liquid shimmered like molten sunlight.

Grey followed him, his expression set with determination.

“It’s beyond painful,” Keen reminded them quietly, his voice low and serious.

Brawl smirked as he stepped into the viscous liquid. “I can handle a little soup.”

Keen muttered under his breath, “That’s not what I was talking about.”

The heavy lid of the cauldron creaked as it closed over them, sealing them inside. The familiar warmth spread through Grey, gradually sharpening into needles of pain. Beside him, Brawl let out a sharp, choked breath, like the air had been knocked from his chest.

“This is—” Brawl grunted through clenched teeth. “Pretty bad. Grey, do your thing. I can’t feel my body taking in anything… it’s like I’m going to burst. Hurry, kid.”

Grey forced himself to steady his breathing despite the unbearable pain. Slowly, he let his mind drift away from the physical world and into that strange, galactic space filled with golden branches and glowing orbs representing the auras of his companions.

The golden pool around them, once still and depleted, began to churn and refill with fresh elixir, surging like an unstoppable tide.

Grey’s attention locked onto Brawl’s orb—deep red, dense, heavy, and locked in place.

“Brawl,” Grey called out, focusing on the orb. He concentrated on expanding it, imagining its size matching the flickering orange orb that represented Keen. The golden branches connected to Brawl’s orb pulsed, drawing large quantities from the pool.

The liquid drained in heavy gulps, but still, the pool refilled itself.

When the process was complete, Brawl’s orb had changed—it was lighter, paler, its energy spread out into the new space Grey had created. Then, like cracks in a storm cloud, faint streaks of orange lightning flashed across it, surging outward.

Grey’s breath caught. It was the same sight he’d seen with Keen.

But there was still more to do. Grey shifted his focus, calling out the names of those he had not yet connected with—Wild, Shot, and Daunt.

Wild’s and Shot’s orbs glimmered in the distance. Their potential was clear—both their orbs burned brightly, drawing only modest amounts from the golden branches. Serene’s orb, likely strengthened by their earlier connection, burned just as brightly as Wild’s.

At the far edge of this strange space was Daunt. His orb was smaller, dimmer, and more fragile. Grey knew immediately that enhancing Daunt would take far more resources—far more than what Wild or Shot had required.

Serene’s orb shone steadily, her potential unmistakable, but even she fell slightly behind the other hunters in sheer raw strength.

Grey pulled back, his consciousness returning to the golden warmth of the cauldron. The sharp pain remained, but the weight of progress pressed against his chest.

From beside him, Brawl let out a shuddering breath. His voice, low and gravelly, cut through the silence.

“I can feel it, kid. Like… something cracked open inside me.”

Grey couldn’t speak—his throat felt raw, his body weak—but he managed a faint nod.

As if on cue, the golden liquid began to sway violently—but just as quickly, it stopped. The surface stilled, its gleaming glow dimming as if something heavy pressed down on it from above.

Grey’s breath caught in his throat. Something was wrong. This wasn’t how it had been with Keen—the chaos, the flares of light and sound. Instead, the air grew thick, dense, almost suffocating. It felt as though the liquid itself was solidifying, freezing around Brawl.

The silence pressed against Grey's ears, a silence that felt like it was watching him.

“Brawl…?” Grey whispered, barely audible over the oppressive stillness.

There was no response.

He closed his eyes and forced himself back into meditation, diving into that strange, galactic space he had become so familiar with.

What he saw shocked him.

Brawl’s orb, which had been a deep, dense red before, was now… fading. The crimson light wasn’t flaring outward or roaring with life—it was collapsing in on itself. Shrinking, dimming, as though the fire inside had been snuffed out.

Grey felt a chill run through his chest.

“Brawl?” he called out again, his voice trembling in the vast, empty expanse.

And then—he was dragged inward.

__

There was… nothing.

No light. No sound. No warmth.

The world around Brawl was a void—a cold, endless emptiness that stretched forever. There were no visions, no shadows of regret or flickering memories of failure. Just… nothing.

He couldn’t see. He couldn’t feel his arms or legs.

He couldn’t move.

“What is this…? What’s going on here?” Brawl’s voice reverberated through the void, but the sound came back muted, hollow—like it was being swallowed by the darkness.

He strained, tried to lift his arms, tried to take a step—but there was no movement, no resistance, no point to pushing forward.

His strength, the thing he had always relied on—the thing that had carried him through every hunt, every battle, every hopeless situation—was gone.

The weight of stillness pressed against him, like he was sinking deeper into thick tar.

“What’s the point of fighting?” the thought surfaced, unbidden.

“It’s easier to stop. To let go. You’ve done enough.”

He gritted his teeth. “No. That’s not—”

But his voice cracked. The silence swallowed his words whole, and his doubts began to twist into truths.

“You’re not like Keen. Not like Grey. You’re stuck here. Always stuck.”

“No! I will advance!” Brawl’s voice reverberated through the suffocating void, raw and defiant.

The shadows around him pressed tighter, thickening with every passing second. But the voice—the whispering echo—remained calm, steady, and impossibly patient.

“And then what, Brawl? You’ll rely on him again? A child.”

The words slithered through the silence, wrapping around Brawl like invisible chains.

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“Grey. So much more potential than you. And yet here you are, clutching at scraps, gasping for air. Even now, you need him. Just to match Keen. Just to stand in his shadow.”

Brawl’s breath came out ragged, uneven. His broad shoulders sagged slightly as if carrying a weight far heavier than the void around him.

But the voice wasn’t done.

“Why not stop? Why keep fighting?”

The calm, almost fatherly tone dripped with pity.

“You don’t have to waste the resources they bled for. Think about it, Brawl—every moment you claw for another breath, you’re stealing from them. From Keen. From Grey. From Serene. They could soar, and you… you’re just dead weight, aren’t you?”

Brawl’s teeth ground together as his head dipped forward slightly. For the first time, his massive arms hung slack at his sides.

The voice pressed on, soft, almost tender.

“You’ve done enough. You’ve carried them, protected them, held the line when no one else could. But now… you can stop. You can rest.”

The word rest lingered in the void, heavy and sweet, dripping with poisonous comfort.

Brawl closed his eyes, and for a moment, everything went still.

He felt it then—the exhaustion he’d buried so deep it had become part of him. The years of fighting. The endless nights standing watch. The weight of every decision, every failure, every moment he’d been forced to carry more than his share.

His breathing slowed.

“I can rest? Really?”

The voice answered immediately, smooth and soothing.

“Yes, Brawl. You can rest. Let go. Sink into the stillness. You’ve earned it. Just… let go.”

The silence stretched, pressing closer and closer around him, as if the void itself was holding its breath, waiting for him to make the final choice.

__

When Grey arrived in Brawl’s mental space, it was unlike anything he had ever experienced.

No golden branches.

No glowing orbs.

No celestial expanse stretching into infinity.

Just darkness. Pure, endless, suffocating darkness.

The silence pressed against him like heavy chains, clawing at his throat and chest.

“Brawl!” Grey called out, but the sound barely carried, swallowed by the crushing stillness.

He strained his eyes, desperately searching for something. A flicker. A spark. Any hint of the aura he was fighting to save. But there was nothing.

No, he wouldn’t give up.

Grey closed his eyes and reached deep into himself, summoning something he couldn’t see, couldn’t define. In the far reaches of his own mental space, a golden pool—a finite reservoir of his will—drained slightly.

When Grey spoke again, his voice cut through the void like a knife, rippling outward in faint golden waves that spread in all directions.

“Brawl! Where are you?”

The ripple carried through the stillness, and finally, something answered.

“Grey?”

The voice came from somewhere distant, deep, and… slow. It was heavy, like the last breath of a giant settling into eternal rest.

Grey hesitated. Was Brawl resting? Preparing himself for the transformation ahead? But then he remembered—the fading ember of Brawl’s aura outside, Elder’s grave words echoing in his mind.

This is a curse from the world. Those of the Giant blood cannot advance.

“Brawl, get up!” Grey’s voice trembled, his fists clenched.

There was a long pause, and then Brawl’s voice returned, soft, heavy, and tired.

“I’m tired, kid. So damn tired.”

The voice carried a weight far beyond exhaustion—it was finality.

“All those dead. All those who will die. I carried them, Grey. Their hopes. Their fears. Every step. Every breath. And still, it was never enough. It’ll never be enough. I won’t be enough, and to increase my potential, my strength, it will cost too much.”

The silence swallowed his words briefly before he continued, softer now.

“You’ll take care of things just fine. Keen will carry the rest. Serene will find her way. Elder will keep them steady. And you… you’ll lead them all, kid. You’ve got something I never had. You’ll take them farther than I ever could.”

The words cut through Grey like shards of glass. Brawl wasn’t complaining. He wasn’t begging or crying out. He had simply… accepted it.

Brawl, the unyielding mountain, was finally at peace.

But Grey could feel the ember fading again. And with it, the weight of all those Brawl had carried—the hunters, the village, the families left behind—would fall onto those left behind.

And Grey refused to let that happen.

His voice cut through the void, sharp and clear.

“No, Brawl. You don’t get to leave us like this.”

A faint ripple spread outward again, golden and defiant.

“You think this is about talent? About potential? You think Keen and I can just carry everything alone?”

The silence hung heavy, waiting.

Grey’s voice cracked, but he pushed forward.

“You think I care how many resources it costs? How much effort? How much pain? If I have to drain every drop of gold from my own mind, if I have to push until there’s nothing left of me, I’ll do it, Brawl. Because you’re my family. All of you are. And I’m not leaving you here. I’m not letting you fade away into this… this nothing.”

The ripple grew stronger this time, spreading further into the void.

“You’re not a burden. You’re not a failure. You’re Brawl. And you’re not done yet.”

For a long moment, there was silence.

But this time, it felt different. The stillness wasn’t suffocating—it was waiting.

Finally, Brawl’s voice came again, quieter, but with a faint edge of something new—a spark, buried deep beneath the exhaustion.

“…Family, huh?”

Grey’s shoulders sagged slightly in relief.

“Yeah,” Grey said softly, his voice steady now. “Family. And family doesn’t leave anyone behind.”

Another silence followed, but Grey could feel something shift—a crack in the stillness, a tremor beneath the surface.

And deep within the endless dark, something began to glow.

__

When Grey was forced back into his own mental space, he gasped, his lungs filling sharply with air as though he had been holding his breath underwater. His silver eyes snapped open, locking onto Brawl’s aura orb.

What he saw made his breath hitch.

The ember of red he had fought so hard to preserve was gone. In its place was an orange glow—steady, unyielding, and still. It wasn’t flickering with chaos like Keen’s had. It wasn’t surging or explosive. Instead, it exuded a quiet, undeniable strength, like a mountain rising from the earth, immovable and eternal.

But Grey noticed something else. The threads connecting Brawl’s orb to the golden pool had thickened and solidified, like ancient roots diving deep into fertile soil. And they weren’t pulling from the pool anymore. No—the pool was rising, as though something ancient inside Brawl had fed it, as thanks for bringing him back.

Then it began to expand.

Slowly, steadily, inexorably, Brawl’s aura orb grew. It pushed outward with a patience that felt alien, like tectonic plates shifting beneath the surface of the world. Grey could almost hear it—a faint, distant rumble, as though the earth itself acknowledged whatever was happening within Brawl.

This… this isn’t normal, Grey thought, his chest tight with awe and unease. This feels… old.

It didn’t stop until the orb was twice the size of Keen’s. Yet it wasn’t wild or uncontrollable—it was still. Unshakable. Almost as if something dormant within Brawl had awakened, and now it sat, waiting, watching, with ancient patience.

__

Outside the cauldron, the air was thick with unease. The golden glow that had once spilled from the cracks in the lid had long since faded, leaving only silence in its wake.

Keen stood with his arms crossed, but his foot tapped faintly against the stone floor. Serene’s gaze was locked on the cauldron, her lips pressed into a thin line. Wild hovered near Elder, her eyes sharp, flicking to the sealed lid every few moments.

No one spoke. The silence wasn’t just absence—it was waiting.

Finally, Elder stepped forward, his face tight with worry. His hand hovered over the lid, his voice low and steady but cracked with the weight of dread.

“I will open the lid. Pray they are both alright.”

For Elder, grief felt close enough to touch—like it was waiting right behind him, ready to take its place in his heart if this went wrong.

But before his hand could reach the seal, there was a faint thud.

A knock.

It was followed by a voice—deep, steady, and clear.

“Let us out. There’s no more juice in here.”

The casual delivery of those words shouldn’t have felt so reassuring, yet everyone let out a collective sigh of relief. Even Wild’s shoulders relaxed slightly, though her fingers still twitched at her sides.

Elder didn’t hesitate. With a swift motion, he pressed the necklace to the lid. A faint click echoed in the silence, followed by the grinding sound of stone as the lid slowly began to lift.

Golden steam spilled outward in lazy curls, and then they emerged.

Grey climbed out first, shoulders slumped, his breathing heavy but steady. His silver eyes were sharp despite the exhaustion lining his face.

And then—Brawl.

He stepped out, one heavy boot thudding against the stone floor with a sound that resonated. It wasn’t the sound of weight—it was the sound of density, like someone had dropped a slab of iron onto the ground.

The air around him felt… thicker. His silhouette was unchanged, but there was something about him now—something imposing. It wasn’t just his size; it was his presence.

His normally sharp eyes now gleamed faintly with an orange glow deep within, like embers smoldering in the dark. His movements were deliberate, each step unhurried yet carrying the weight of inevitability.

His breathing was slow, controlled, and steady, like the rhythm of something ancient—a drumbeat in the heart of a forgotten mountain.

For a moment, no one spoke.

Then Shot exhaled a shaky breath. “You… you look…” She trailed off, unable to find the right word.

Brawl rolled one of his massive shoulders, a faint crack echoing as if stone had shifted within him.

“Like I could wrestle the mountain that raised me?” he said, smirking faintly.

The smirk was familiar—it was Brawl through and through—but there was an edge to it now. A weight.

Elder studied him carefully, his brow furrowed in quiet awe.

“You’re… different.”

Brawl nodded, his voice low and firm. “Feels different. Feels heavy. But it feels right.”

He turned his attention to Grey and gave him a small nod of respect.

“You pulled me back, kid. Whatever you did in there… thanks.”

Grey nodded, but his mind churned with unease. Different. Everyone kept saying Brawl was different. But no—that wasn’t right.

That space Brawl had been trapped in, the suffocating void that Grey had pulled him from—it wasn’t trying to kill Brawl. No, it was something worse.

It was trying to erase him.

To make him disappear.

Grey’s stomach tightened at the thought. Would they have even remembered him if it had succeeded? Would there have been a hollow space in their memories, a vague ache they couldn’t explain, a missing piece no one could name?

The dread settled deep in Grey’s chest as his thoughts drifted to what he had seen inside Brawl’s orb. How it had changed—not flaring outward, not drawing from the golden pool like Keen's, but instead… feeding into it.

The golden branches hadn’t anchored themselves into Brawl—they had grown from him. Like roots feeding back into the earth. Like he had become part of whatever ancient mechanism drove it.

Grey swallowed hard. It would only do that if Brawl could produce his own energy, his own essence to give back.

No, Brawl hadn’t passed the trial like Keen had. Keen had fought and clawed his way through chaos, exploding outward in raw defiance.

Brawl… had endured. He had become.

He hadn’t bent to the rules of the trial.

Instead, he had transcended it.

His aura orb wasn’t just larger—it wasn’t just denser. It was something else.

No, Brawl wasn’t different.

He was something else entirely.