Emma’s eyes snapped open, the faint luminescence of Maverick’s magical lamp casting a soft glow on the walls around her. She stood frozen, her gaze fixed on the royal carriage ahead. The gold frame seemed to glimmer faintly, a haunting contrast to the suffocating darkness of the dungeon. Her thoughts churned, replaying the moment the blade had grazed her neck.... silent, precise, and impossibly fast.

Her expression hardened, her muscles tensing as she silently berated herself. Something dangerous is in that place. She clenched her fists, her mind racing with possibilities, the weight of her failure to react gnawing at her pride.

Beside her, Maverick shifted his gaze toward her. His expression remained unreadable, but the faintest flicker of concern crossed his features before he turned his attention back to the carriage. He studied it for a moment longer, his stance relaxed yet ready, before stepping forward without a word.

“We need to be careful when we reach the narrower path,” Emma said, her voice steady despite the tension coiling within her.

Maverick didn’t pause, didn’t even glance back. Instead, he gave a small nod, his measured strides carrying him forward.

Emma followed, her boots crunching softly against the uneven ground. She felt the dampness against her skin before she noticed the sensation at the corner of her eyes. Lifting a hand to her face, she wiped at it, only to see a streak of red staining her fingers. Blood.

Her lips curled into a wry smile, her fingers trembling as she let out a soft chuckle. I used Looping Fate without fully recovering. My human Ki Core is damaged... Am I really trying to get myself killed? The bitter thought lingered as she rubbed the blood away, pushing the creeping exhaustion from her mind.

The dungeon narrowed as they progressed, its walls pressing closer together like the maw of some great beast. The oppressive air grew thicker, the heat rolling over them in suffocating waves. Their steps slowed instinctively, each movement deliberate and precise.

Despite the tension, they avoided showing alarm. Any sudden movement could betray their awareness, tipping off whatever predator might be lurking in the shadows. Emma’s breath slowed as she matched Maverick’s careful pace.

The heat grew unbearable, the air searing against her skin like invisible flames. She closed her eyes, the world around her falling away as she focused inward. The Strings of Fate, an ability that had become both a blessing and a curse, surged to the forefront of her mind.

Her eyes burned, the familiar sensation of overuse clawing at her nerves, but she pressed on. In the darkness behind her closed eyelids, faint threads began to shimmer. They flickered in and out of existence, elusive and fragile, but there.

Her eyes snapped open, the boiling heat intensifying. “On my left,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the oppressive silence.

Maverick turned to look at her, his expression questioning for a split second. How does she know? the thought seemed to flicker across his face. Yet, he didn’t hesitate. Without a word, he unsheathed his dagger with an almost imperceptible movement, the blade gleaming faintly in the dim light.

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In one fluid motion, he hurled the dagger toward the shadowed corner of the corridor.

The weapon cut through the air with a sharp whistle, embedding itself with a sickening thud.

A growl erupted from the shadows, low and guttural, filled with rage and pain.

The sound was unmistakable. Something definitely is there, lying in wait.

The growl reverberated through the narrow corridor, a guttural sound that prickled the air with malice. From the shadows, a figure materialized, stepping into the dim blue light of Maverick’s magical lamp. It moved, pulling the dagger from its body and casting it aside with a dull clatter.

It resembled a human, but only vaguely. Its towering frame loomed larger, grotesquely stretched beyond normal proportions. The creature wore fragments of tattered armor, its jagged edges corroded by time and neglect. From its helmet, two faint orange lights glowed where its eyes should have been, flickering like embers in a dying fire. Below the helmet’s jawline, tentacles writhed and coiled, grotesque and alien, mirroring the grotesque carvings on the dungeon walls.

In its massive hand, a rusted greatsword scraped against the stone floor as it moved, the sound grating and echoing down the corridor.

Maverick prepared to launch into action. His movements were already calculated.... but before he could move, Emma raised a hand to halt him.

“Let’s do this together,” she said firmly, her tone brooking no argument.

Maverick shot her a glance, his eyes narrowing, but he said nothing. With a faint nod, he replied simply, “Keep up,” before his form blurred and vanished, a streak of motion too quick for the eye to follow.

Emma steadied her breath. Memories of her fight with Matana flickered through her mind. Her grasp on combat in this world had grown since then. She gripped the bracelet on her wrist as it shimmered and expanded, its form shifting into the sleek, gleaming blade of the Sword of Fate.

Ahead, Maverick reappeared, his dagger already in hand. He materialized behind the corrupted warrior, his movements almost ghostly in their silence as he slashed at the creature’s exposed side.

But the warrior was faster than it seemed. Anticipating the strike, it shifted its weight, twisting on its heel with an unnatural fluidity. The massive greatsword arced toward Maverick in a deadly swing.

Maverick’s figure blurred again, narrowly avoiding the blade as it carved through the space he had just occupied. He reappeared beneath the creature, low to the ground, his dagger flashing as he slashed at its legs.

The warrior roared, its grotesque tentacles writhing violently. Before it could react, Maverick dashed to a safe distance, his boots skidding slightly as he turned.

But the monster was relentless. It surged forward with horrifying speed, its greatsword raised high. The blade descended in a blur of motion, closing the gap between them in an instant.

Emma’s body moved on instinct. With a sharp motion, she hurled the Sword of Fate, its gleaming blade cutting through the air. The weapon struck true, piercing through the warrior’s ribs with a force that sent it stumbling.

The distraction gave Maverick the opening he needed. He leapt into the air, his form a blur, before delivering a powerful, arcing kick that connected with the warrior’s helmet. The impact was thunderous, echoing through the corridor as the creature was sent crashing to the ground.

The narrow path trembled under the force of its fall, the vibrations rippling through the stone beneath their feet. Dust rained down, and the air filled with the metallic scent of corruption.

The Sword of Fate trembled as it dislodged itself from the creature’s ribs, streaking back to Emma’s waiting hand. She caught it deftly, her grip firm as she twirled the blade in a fluid motion.

The warrior’s twitching form began to rise, its grotesque movements more predatory now. The faint orange glow of its eyes burned brighter, its tentacles flaring with aggression. The growl that escaped it was deeper, hungrier, reverberating with an unnatural resonance.

Emma’s lips curved into a slow smile,

Bring it,