“Ah~! Better time than any to chill…”

I leaned back on my seat with a steaming cup of coffee in hand and focused on the screen before me. Selena’s fight played out in real time, and I couldn’t help but admire her fluid movements as she faced her opponent—a Maker-type hunter with a flair for aerodynamic surfboards.

Her opponent wielded a mechanized surfboard, a bizarre contraption that hovered in the air like a predatory bird. It was no ordinary board; it doubled as a weapon, its edges gleaming sharp enough to rival a broadsword. Each swing carved through the air, and the hunter glided effortlessly on it, maneuvering with the precision of a practiced rider.

The camerawork was surprisingly impeccable, capturing every angle of the intense battle. The lens zoomed in on Selena as she darted across the battlefield, her expression a mask of focus and calm determination. Then it cut to her opponent, who flipped his board midair, using it as both shield and sword.

I sipped my coffee, marveling at the smooth transitions and dramatic perspectives.

Whoever the cameraman was, they certainly knew how to capture the spectacle. The angles, the timing, the way they highlighted every critical moment—it was almost as if the fight itself were choreographed.

I frowned slightly, my thoughts drifting. How are they doing this?

I remembered my own fight with Shen. Throughout the battle, I hadn’t sensed any eyes on me—not a single camera drone, no hidden operators, nothing. It was just me, my opponent, and the forest.

Were the cameramen invisible? Or was there some advanced tech or technique in play? I shook my head, setting the thought aside for now.

On-screen, Selena made her move, her speed and grace forcing her opponent onto the defensive.

I leaned back, staring at the ceiling for a moment, letting my thoughts drift to my own techniques. If I were being honest with myself, they were far from polished—chaotic, even. My moves lacked cohesion, and every victory felt like a scramble to piece together what worked at the moment.

But now, with the Homing attribute, there was a spark of hope. It gave me the ability to chain moves together, to create a flow where once there was only disorder. Still, I was far from my ideal build.

Not that I was treating this like a game—at least, not intentionally—but the desire to complete myself burned deep. Mastery. Skill perfection. It was a path that stretched long ahead, riddled with challenges. But for the first time in a while, I believed I could walk it.

The solution to my limited aura pool was becoming clearer too. Using my doll or other Maker artifacts as auxiliary batteries would let me sustain the fight when my reserves ran dry. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start.

A familiar voice jolted me back to the broadcast.

Selena’s tone was laced with sharp confidence, “Is that all you got, sleazebag?”

I turned my attention back to the screen, watching her in action. She was moving with stunning precision, weaving in and out of her opponent’s attacks as if she were teleporting. Her speed, combined with the invisibility from the cloak I’d given her, created a series of afterimages that were almost ghostlike.

The resemblance to Geoffrey’s technique didn’t escape me. Unlike him, though, Selena’s mastery of aura control and sheer agility made her movements seamless. Where Geoffrey was reactive, she was pure, unrelenting offense.

I couldn’t help but admire her—she was making that cloak do things I hadn’t even considered. It was impressive.

And then, the thought hit me: If this is being broadcast… Leora must be watching.

A pang of unease settled in my chest. The idea of her seeing me fight, seeing the risks I’d taken and the close calls I’d barely survived, didn’t sit well.

I sighed. I’d rather she didn’t watch. I’d hate to worry her.

I glanced down at my phone as it buzzed, revealing a text message from Leora.

Leora:

I just saw your fight. That’s badass. I’d normally be scared to death, but thankfully it’s the Fighting Tower. Used to have a training program with my old team back there. Really fun place.

I rubbed my temple. If only she knew the Tower’s protections weren’t absolute.

Another message followed:

Anyway, lots of love from me and Leonard. Got any intel on the Cult? Just asking, no pressure… because I think they’re on the move. They made a few moves against us recently… had to relocate three times already. Even Stefan was attacked once. I think they don’t see you as a threat like you theorized.

Her words sank in, the pit of unease in my stomach growing.

Leora continued:

Seriously though, work your ass a little harder… and since you won’t tell me your whole picture, I will continue bitching about it. If you get killed, I swear I’ll make Leonard’s name legally changed to Reynard Jr. And I know how much you’d hate that.

I exhaled sharply, smirking despite myself. So petty.

But the humor faded as guilt crept in. I left her on read, staring at the screen, unable to think of a response. How could I face her right now? She must’ve been busy—too busy to call, evidently.

I clenched my fist, the weight of her words pressing down on me. I felt useless. Was it bravado that had brought me here in the first place? The promises I’d made to Leora felt distant and fragile. I told her I’d handle the hunting, that I’d protect her and Leonard. Yet here I was, tangled in this damn exam while they were being hunted.

Patience. I needed to hold onto it. Impulsiveness wouldn’t help anyone.

The sound of the television snapped me out of my thoughts. Selena’s match was wrapping up. At the last second, she managed to steal her opponent’s surfboard using her miniaturization technique, a derivative of her disguise ability.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

I scoffed, shaking my head. She could’ve ended it much sooner if she’d gone for a full salvo, but no—she was clearly eyeing that board for her arsenal.

Her miniaturization technique always fascinated me. It wasn’t just a feat of skill; it was damn near impossible to replicate. Even I couldn’t manage it, no matter how much I tried to reverse-engineer her methods.

I yawned, stretching out the stiffness in my shoulders before deciding I needed a break from my room.

Heading out into the corridor, I glanced around, wondering where Selena might be. Time to find her.

The open area felt alive with a strange energy, serving as a lobby of sorts. Hunters mingled freely, their competitive intensity replaced by casual banter. Tables and chairs occasionally sprouted from the floor, accommodating impromptu gatherings. The vending machines, ever-reliable, clicked and whirred as people grabbed drinks or meals.

Some of the participants, already eliminated from the tournament, lingered in the space, laughing and chatting like they were on vacation. Chairman Bob’s love for fanfare ensured this atmosphere. Nothing beats a live audience for entertainment value, after all.

“Yo~” Selena’s voice rang out, and I turned to see her leaning lazily against a vending machine, a smirk plastered across her face. “And here I thought you’d forgotten about me…”

I crossed my arms. “You’re enjoying yourself. Aren’t you supposed to be my bodyguard?”

She rolled her eyes with exaggerated flair. “The tower’s practically made us unkillable. What’s there to guard you from now?”

I bit back the urge to mention Gerry and the close call that still haunted me. No need to add fuel to Selena’s teasing fire. Instead, I studied her more closely.

There, tucked into her hair, was a tacky clip that stood out like a sore thumb.

It took me a second to realize—it wasn’t just a hair accessory. It was the surfboard she’d stolen from her opponent during her match. She’d somehow miniaturized it, turning it into… that.

“Nasty,” I muttered under my breath.

Selena caught the direction of my gaze and grinned wider. “Like it? Thought I’d put it to good use. Why waste good loot?”

I sighed, shaking my head. Of course, she’d find a way to flaunt her spoils.

The ambient glow of the tower's magical lighting bathed the lobby in a soft, steady light, but it must’ve been dark outside by now. Time felt strange in this place, suspended between battles and survival. Selena and I lined up at the vending machine, and with a few selections, our orders materialized in a symphony of quiet clicks and whirs.

We found a spot in one corner, where the floor hummed and mechanical arms produced a table and chairs that seamlessly rose from the ground. This tower never ceased to amaze me.

I glanced down at my meal: steaming rice, chicken stew, and a glass of pineapple juice that practically advertised its vitamin C content. Across from me, Selena poked at her plate of greens, grains, and tofu. Full vegan, which was a surprise.

“Who will you be fighting in the next match?” I asked, stirring my stew.

Selena took a deliberate sip of her tea before answering. “Some guy who calls himself Dummy…”

I raised an eyebrow. “How did that guy reach this far?”

“You know him?” she asked, pausing to spear a piece of lettuce with her fork.

“I saw him goofing around with Black on the airship,” I replied. “They were playing chess. He’s a trickster, has some kind of ‘weakening’ attribute.”

Selena leaned back in her chair, mulling this over.

My thoughts, however, started racing. Dummy? Among all the characters I’d written, no face came to mind that matched him. My gut twisted with suspicion. Was he some hidden master in disguise? The idea felt almost absurd, too far-fetched even for this place.

I pushed the thought aside, but it lingered like an itch I couldn’t scratch. Something about Dummy didn’t add up.

Selena raised an eyebrow, her tone teasing yet edged with curiosity. “So, who’s the chick?”

I followed her gaze to the holographic jumbotron above us. The tournament bracket shimmered, and there it was—my face next to my next opponent’s: Sarah Maldave.

As if conjured by the mention of her name, Sarah appeared before us. She was petite, barely over five feet, with pale white skin that contrasted sharply against her dark hair and crimson eyes. Her outfit was equally striking—a cropped top that left her shoulders and neck exposed, along with her midriff. She practically radiated confidence, her every movement deliberate and calculated.

I scowled, my voice dripping with venom. “It’s the High Priestess of the Elsewhere Cult, the damn organization that’s been hunting my family like rabid dogs. Hey, Sarah, how’s it feel being the Prophet’s little lapdog?”

Sarah smiled, unbothered by my provocation, her crimson eyes gleaming.

Selena leaned closer, her voice a low warning. “Oi, Rey… is that smart? Playing ignorant might’ve given us an advantage.”

I shook my head, keeping my eyes on Sarah. “Doesn’t matter. She’s a Reader-type. Mind-reader. I don’t know the full extent of her abilities, but let’s not kid ourselves—she’s already in my head. Don’t be fooled by her appearance, though. This is the High Priestess of the Elsewhere Cult, and she’s older than she looks.”

Sarah’s voice was silky, with an edge of mockery. “My, my, such aggression. I wonder, how did you kill Naon? And still live?”

I clenched my fists, trying not to let her see how much her words riled me. If they’d sent Sarah, it meant they were taking me seriously—a rare silver lining. The Cult must believe she could finish the job where others had failed. Still, this was the Fighting Tower. Unless they sent their Chief Warrior, they couldn’t kill me outright. Unless, of course, Sarah was carrying something like the artifact Gerry used...

I kept my tone steady. “Naon? You’re talking about the Prophet’s right hand, aren’t you?”

Sarah’s smile widened, and she gave a slight nod. “Indeed.”

The desire to strike her down surged through me, but I held back. I couldn’t kill her, not without the Association’s probability-destroying dagger. And even with it, this wasn’t the time or place.

Sarah’s voice took on a mockingly disappointed tone. “So much killing intent… and here I was, thinking of offering you an olive branch to join the Cult. But you’re so stubborn, aren’t you? Let’s see if you’ll still look so confident after I rip out your soul, crush it, and feed on it.”

Her words hung in the air, a challenge cloaked in menace, but I smirked. “Big talk. Let’s see if you can back it up, High Priestess.”

Sarah’s smile faltered for a brief moment before her voice sharpened with more malice than before. “Oh, I can back it up.”

I raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “What’s your game? Why reveal yourself now?”

Sarah’s expression shifted to something almost... sincere, but I could tell it was all part of her act. “My reasoning is quite pure, you know?”

Selena scoffed. “As if.”

A soft chuckle escaped Sarah’s lips, but it was tinged with something darker. “Join the Cult. Offer your firstborn son to us, and we shall bestow upon you the gift of immortality. Of course, if your wife is inclined to join as well… that will be… perfect. Just so you know, we allow multiple marriages, so it’s entirely possible for you to take a second wife.”

At the mention of a second wife, her gaze lingered on Selena, her eyes practically undressing her with the way she stared.

Selena’s patience snapped. “This fucking bitch.”

I wasn’t about to let her rattle me, though. I tilted my head and smirked, deliberately pushing her buttons. “Sarah, tell me, what am I thinking right now?”

She squinted at me, clearly digging into my mind, the silence stretching. Finally, she spoke, her tone smug. “That you want to kill me.”

I shook my head with a smirk playing on my lips. “Look deeper.”

A flicker of confusion passed through Sarah’s face before her expression hardened. She furrowed her brow, focusing more intently, but then something in her eyes flickered—she wasn’t seeing what she expected. Her lips parted as her voice shook. “W-what?”

I felt the energy shift as Sarah’s composure cracked, her gaze flickering, lips trembling. And then—there it was—she began to cry. A few soft sobs escaped her as her breath quickened, her hands trembling at her sides.

“Lies!” she yelled, her voice breaking as she staggered back, panic overtaking her expression. Her eyes were wide as if she had seen something horrifying.

She turned and ran off, her movements frantic and erratic, as if half-mad, her steps uneven.

Selena watched her go, her voice low but laced with disbelief. “What did you do?”

I let the silence hang for a moment before I gave a cryptic smile. “That’s a secret.”

Selena scowled but didn’t press any further, her confusion and frustration palpable. As Sarah disappeared into the distance, I leaned back slightly, feeling a sense of calm wash over me. This was just the beginning… of my counterattack.

Shaking ‘her’ resolve was just the first domino. "Maaa~an, am I lucky or am I glad that worked...?"