The metallic roar of the gate echoed like thunder.On the other side, the players who had entered earlier still had not returned.The lingering echo of their screams and the clash of steel were the only proof they were still breathing… or dying.
The air shook when the door slammed shut behind the last group.Inside, the vast chamber revealed itself as a circular coliseum. Empty stands, drowned in mist, surrounded the battlefield. And at the center… the boss.
A crimson minotaur of monstrous proportions.Its body looked like stone soaked in blood, and from its jaws erupted a roar that shook the ground.A metallic mask covered part of its face—half-helmet, half-muzzle—and its eyes burned with irrational, almost human hatred.
Around it, portals of light opened wildly, unleashing three-meter-tall spectral bulls. They charged with uncontrollable fury, fading if they missed—yet each strike carved marks into the floor, as if the arena itself remembered their violence.
Aomine's party was on the verge of collapse.The tanks, panting, formed a shaky line in front of the beast, shields already cracked from impact.Mito guarded Aomine's flank with fierce determination, blocking strikes he failed to anticipate.The rest—mages, archers, scouts—barely stood, dodging more from instinct than strategy.
Chaos ruled.
Aomine clenched his teeth.His eyes darted desperately, trying to decipher attack patterns, but nothing aligned.The minotaur attacked without logic, bulls appeared from nowhere, and players fell one after another.
(Damn… this is annoying. We can't deal real damage.Each strike barely dents its HP bar… and crits hardly exist.The bulls are manageable, but that special one…)
His breathing quickened. Even in the chaos, his mind moved like machinery.
(Every time someone misses a strike, one of those monsters appears. But after a certain number of mistakes, a different one emerges… faster, deadlier.)
A crimson flash cut the field.A tank was launched by a special bull, their body thrown skyward before shattering into light fragments.
(There it is… that's the charged attack.Each mistake feeds the boss… but he chooses when to unleash that fury.)
Aomine began counting missed attacks — one, two, three — watching the minotaur's movements.Each roar, each stomp, each shimmering portal was another clue.
The coliseum became a board.The players, pieces falling one by one.And he… the only one still trying to understand the rules.
The earth trembled beneath hooves and steel. Cries and roars collided in the smoky air.
Then, a scream.A lightly armored boy panicked, charging the boss head-on, sword shaking in his hand.
"Stop! Don't do it, idiot!" shouted a black-haired boy — Kirito — spinning mid-dodge to chase him.A red-headed girl snapped her rapier through the air, destroying a bull lunging at them.
"Kirito-kun! Don't do anything reckless!" she shouted — Asuna, unmistakably.
The reckless player reached the boss, blade raised.The minotaur's nose flared with crimson light.Without even turning fully, it swung its mace casually.
A chilling impact.The boy hit a pillar and shattered into shards of light.
Kirito lowered his gaze, trembling.Asuna's grip shook around her rapier.
Aomine narrowed his eyes, mind racing.
(When he attacked, his nose… lit up.)His eyes widened.
(That means his bull-summoning ability — and the empowered one — triggers with that breath. Each time he misses, he builds power in his nose and transfers it to the next bull. But if interrupted, he reinforces himself to endure the backlash.)
Then—
(The modified bulls… they have a crest. I barely noticed before. That dying idiot showed me. If we destroy that crest… we might damage the boss indirectly.)
Sweat trailed down his neck.
(We'll have to risk it. Tanks must take hits… force the empowered bull. When it appears, I'll target its crest. It's a guess… but at this point, the cost doesn't matter.)
His gaze searched for Michael.He ran. Mito followed, startled.
He dodged each bull like he already knew their paths.Portals opened — he moved before they appeared.Every stomp, every roar — he was one breath ahead.
Mito barely kept up.Then—
A bull with a glowing red crest charged at her.
She froze—
Air exploded—But instead of pain, she felt a pull.
"Miss me a little?" Aomine said with a strained smirk as he yanked her back.
Her eyes widened in shock—then relief.
"Cut the red crest, now! Before it vanishes!" he shouted.
She didn't think — she believed.Her scythe sliced a curved arc—A crimson burst erupted.
The bull shattered.The boss staggered, bleeding from the nose as one of its health bars dropped by half in an instant.
"Bingo…" Aomine whispered with a smirk of grim triumph.
He sprinted to Michael.
"Listen," he said sharply. "Every few charges, one bull gets a red crest. The boss links to it. Break it, and we damage him. That's the weak point."
Michael's eyes widened.
"Historia needs this. She's west side — she won't answer mid-fight. I'll go."
Michael nodded.
"Then leave it to me."
Gundou slammed his shield into the ground."I'll buy time."
Michael raised his voice:
"All tanks! Form up! We force the special bull! Shields tight—melee prepare!"
Shouts echoed. Shields locked. Weapons rose.
Aomine ran again—Through dust, flame, red-glowing mist—Toward Historia.
He found her behind a cracked pillar, drawing breath, bow trembling, arrows nearly gone. Fear and frustration waged in her eyes.
Aomine stepped—
A snap of stone—
An arrow flew straight at his head.
"Hey, wait, it's me!" shouted Aomine, ducking down.
The projectile grazed his cheek, leaving a thin line of blood that burned as it met the hot air.
"Agh... that was close..." he muttered, bringing a hand to his face.
Historia frowned, raising a brow.
"Aomine?..." She slowly lowered her bow, though her tone stayed sharp. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be hiding near the door with your 'girlfriend'?"
Silence fell between them.
Only the distant roar of the boss and the cracking of the walls could be heard.
Aomine lowered his gaze, taking a deep breath.
"...I know I'm not doing things right," he finally said.
His voice was deep, tired, unguarded. "My decisions have been a disaster, both inside and outside of battle.
I'm not the same as before, and I can't change overnight... but—"
He stepped forward and extended his hand toward her.
"I want to try. Just this once... trust me. Let's fight together. Like old times."
Historia stared at him in silence, bow still half-raised.
The reddish firelight illuminated her face, and for a moment her eyes softened.
Memories surfaced without permission:
Aomine helping her study so she could get into the same high school as Elsa.
Aomine waiting for her in the rain with an umbrella, smiling as if he didn't care about getting soaked.
Small flashes of a warm past that still hurt.
A faint smile formed on her lips, but she quickly erased it, pretending arrogance.
"Well... what can I do," she sighed, raising a brow with her usual attitude.
"Seriously, you can't do anything without me, can you?"
Aomine let out a small laugh, the first genuine one in a long time.
"Maybe not... but with you, the odds improve."
Historia rolled her eyes, hiding a soft smile.
"Tsk... guess I have no choice."
She stepped forward and without another word, grabbed Aomine's hand firmly.
"Don't get used to it. If you die before me... I'll kill you."
"I've heard worse threats from you," he replied, a half-smile on his face.
The air burned.
Each roar from the boss made the walls of the coliseum tremble, dust and sparks dancing in the darkness.
The shouts of players mixed with the crash of armor and weapons.
And amid all that chaos, Aomine and Historia stood in a strategic corner, analyzing the situation.
Historia drew her bow, breath heavy.
"So, what exactly do you want me to do?" she asked, eyes fixed on the battlefield.
Aomine turned toward her, pointing ahead where the bulls ran wild.
"Each one of those attacks has a purpose. The boss marks a target and powers one of them up."
His eyes tracked the enemy's patterns precisely.
"Did you see those with a red crest? Those aren't normal."
"Yeah... I thought it was just another visual gimmick," Historia replied, raising a brow.
Aomine shook his head.
"No. Those are the ones we have to kill. If you shoot the red crest directly, the damage transfers to the boss. It's like cutting his link to them."
He inhaled softly. "I trust your aim. You're the only one who can hit them from here."
Historia stared a moment. Sweat slid down her temple, but her expression stayed firm.
"A risky plan... considering we don't know how many charges we can withstand."
A drop of sweat fell from her chin. "But whatever, I've done dumber things with you."
Aomine smiled faintly. "So, like always."
A new roar echoed across the arena.
Up front, chaos continued.
The tanks braced behind their shields, holding on with what little energy they had left.
Beside them, a man clad in white armor and gray hair watched with unusual calm.
"Heathcliff, this is getting out of control!" shouted one of his allies, blocking a blow with a battered shield. "Do you really think this will work?"
The man lifted his gaze, calm amidst fire and blood.
"Yes. There is a plan... someone is moving the pieces correctly."
A small smile touched his lips.
"This ALS guild... they work together in a remarkable way. It reminds me of what a true team should be."
His teammate let out a tired laugh.
"Hey, we're a guild too! The Knights of the Blood will reach that level, right?"
Heathcliff lowered his sword slowly.
"Perhaps you're right..." he murmured calmly. "As long as we can dream, anything is possible... even here."
A new charge interrupted his words.
The ground cracked, and through the dust a bull with a red crest charged at full speed.
"The big one's here!" shouted Michael, raising his sword.
The tanks moved aside, letting the beast rush through.
It roared—then a whistle cut through the air.
The arrow struck true.
The crest shattered, and the bull exploded into light, sending a violent shockwave straight into the boss's face.
His nose bled; a chunk of his health bar dropped instantly.
"It worked!" someone shouted.
Aomine and Historia watched from their position.
He exhaled.
"Bingo."
Cheers erupted across the battlefield.
They repeated the tactic—defend, endure, wait for the marked bull, and shoot.
Each hit pushed the red colossus to the edge.
Until finally, his last health bar reached halfway.
The boss roared with inhuman fury.
His body glowed crimson, veins burning beneath his skin.
Suddenly, the bulls vanished.
Silence fell.
The minotaur raised his leg and slammed it into the ground.
A shockwave blasted outward.
Players froze, the air vibrating as if the world itself pressed down on them.
Aomine barely stayed upright.
"...Looks like we made him mad," he gritted out, forcing a shaky smile.
Historia lifted a brow.
"Oh, really? How insightful," she replied sarcastically, nocking another arrow. "I thought he was congratulating us."
Despite the tension, Aomine let out a small laugh.
The monster roared again—this time a red crest appeared above its own head.
The true fight had just begun.
The final roar faded into a burst of red light.
For a moment, the entire coliseum fell into a grave silence...
Until a bright notification materialized above every player:
"Congratulations — Floor 24 Cleared"
The air smelled of iron and ash.
Bodies dropped—not dead, but from exhaustion.
Some laughed breathlessly; others fell to their knees still gripping weapons.
Victory cries echoed faintly as the boss's particles dissolved into the air.
In the center, only one figure remained standing.
A man in white armor, sword still glowing red.
A golden reward notice hovered above him:
"Last Hit — Special Reward"
Aomine, slumped against a broken wall, lifted his head.
"And who's that guy?" he asked, voice rough with fatigue.
Michael staggered over, shield on his back and a tired smile on his face.
Sweat ran down his forehead as he spoke.
"Umm... I think he's from that new guild that joined the assault."
He collapsed beside him, panting.
"The 'Knights of the Blood'. Only about fifty members, but... looks like they have an exceptional player."
Aomine narrowed his eyes slightly.
"Exceptional?"
"Yeah." Michael nodded, staring at the man standing firm in the battlefield's light.
"He landed the final blow. Got the bonus experience and the boss item."
He laughed in tired envy. "Pretty enviable, right?"
Aomine stayed silent.
His gaze fixed on the knight, cold and analytical.
The shimmering loot reflected in his eyes like quiet embers.
No frustration. No joy. Only a distant, deep observation.
"Knights of the Blood..." he repeated softly.
The battlefield still trembled with fading heat, and the echo of the man's footsteps—calm, unknown, yet imposing—faded as he walked away.
Michael noticed.
"Aomine, something wrong?"
Aomine shook his head slightly, still staring ahead.
"No... just that his attitude reminds me of something."
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________
February 27th, 2023 — Floor 25 — EDINBURGH
12:30 p.m.
The grand city gate groaned as it opened, letting the golden morning light spill across the cobblestones. Amid the flow of players, two figures stood out at the entrance: a young man with blonde hair tipped in black that gleamed under the early sun, and a young woman with a firm posture, her presence sharp enough to cut the air around her.
The deep-violet corset fitted against Mito's torso accentuated the natural curve of her figure; red ribbons wrapped around her waist and thighs in a pattern that felt almost ritualistic, giving her a presence both solemn and dangerous. Polished steel pauldrons and bracers caught the dawn light with a muted glow, while her high boots, hugging her legs up to the thighs, gave her an aura of unwavering control and strength.
On her back, the scythe rested silently: a black blade with a silver edge, elegant and lethal, pulsing with barely contained energy — as though the weapon itself breathed beside her.
"Then... you'll be gone for a few hours, Mito-san?" Aomine asked, a slight grimace tugging at his lips. His voice carried curiosity, tinged with a bit of concern.
She looked at him, the breeze lifting strands of her purple hair.
"Yes. Sorry. I need to meet with some friends; they owe me money," she said in her usual tone — though her eyes held something that didn't fit. "Go ahead and buy the house you wanted so badly. If I don't make it back tonight, I'll send you a message, alright?" she added with a gentle smile that failed to hide the tension in her lips.
Aomine nodded, trying to mirror the smile. Before turning away, Mito leaned in and kissed him softly on the lips. A gesture that once felt natural — now felt foreign, forced.When they parted, she turned her back quickly, saying nothing more. Aomine stood still for a few seconds, gaze dropping. A shadow of confusion crossed his face before he, too, turned and walked his own way.
Mito followed the path leading toward the forest, where the whisper of leaves replaced the city's noise. Her footsteps were steady, though a heavy silence slowly settled inside her. Every rustle of wind through the trees sounded too sharp, too loud.
She took a rarely used side trail — one only experienced players would choose. The air smelled of damp earth and rusty metal; the atmosphere was so calm it felt unsettling. Updating her equipment, a blue flash washed over her, and now she wore a black cape that hid almost her entire gear and her face. She let out a heavy sigh and continued.
Without warning, a flash crossed her vision.
Before she could process it, something slammed brutally into her side. Her body folded violently leftward and flew through the air, crashing into a tree trunk. The impact ripped a ragged gasp from her throat. Her trembling hand moved instinctively to the struck area… and touched something cold and metallic.
A spear jutted out of her side, buried halfway into her body.
Pain forced a choked scream from her lips.
Her vision blurred, yet she caught sight of a figure approaching through the shadows between the trees.
"Who...?" she gasped, voice cracking with pain.
The figure didn't reply. It moved quickly, stepping in front of her. Metal scraping through flesh sounded as the spear twisted, dragging a broken cry out of her.
Then, a man's voice — dripping with icy sarcasm.
"I'm... unhappy. Rank B, you know? Saving explorers only to be abandoned and left to die... that's pretty cruel, don't you think?" he said with a fake smile hiding pure fury.
Mito lifted her gaze, dazed. "What are you... talking about?"
The man chuckled softly and with a slow, theatrical gesture pulled down the cloth covering his face.
The air froze between them.
"Ring any bells?" he asked mockingly.
Mito's eyes widened in horror."...L-Lancelot."
The man's grin widened, joy nowhere to be seen.
"Good. Looks like you still remember my name, you cowardly piece of trash." The spear twisted again, slow and deliberate, making Mito stifle another scream. "Leaving us behind to die was smart... but if you're going to send someone to their death, at least do it right."
Mito's HP bar flickered dangerously. Lancelot savored every second of her suffering before ripping the spear free. Mito collapsed to the ground, gasping, virtual blood evaporating in red particles. He spat near her face and kicked her, forcing her to look up.
"One of yours told me. You gave the retreat order while enemies were still there. You left me alone... and I almost died. But Risu said I could do this. So listen closely: you're not dying yet. You're going to live. You're going to pay your debt to me.In the Laughing Coffin Assassins, a debt means absolute obedience. If I say kill, you kill. If I say obey, you obey." His voice sank, dark and poisonous. "You belong to me until your sin is paid."
Without waiting for a response, he pulled out a small vial from his inventory and poured it over her. The liquid glowed with a blue shimmer; a timer appeared above her body: 5 hours to recover 100% HP.
"You've got thirty minutes to reach the assassins' meeting. Don't be late," he said, leaning down with a jagged smirk. "Being part of the assault team won't save you. And if anyone discovers what you do just to squeeze out a few more days of life... well, it won't be pretty."
He turned and walked away, laughing quietly.
His silhouette vanished into the fog of the forest.
Mito lay on the ground, shaking. Her ragged breathing mixed with the wind's whisper. Her hands, smeared with shimmering red, pressed against her abdomen. Tears slid down her cheeks without her noticing.
I'm disgusting, she thought, filled with a hatred she no longer knew whether directed at him or at herself.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________
February 27th, 2023 — Floor 22
8:30 p.m.
Night had fallen over the forest like a deep velvet-blue cloak.The cabin, once bathed in sunset light, now stood serene beneath a sky littered with stars that gleamed with an almost unreal purity.
Warm, golden light spilled from its windows, softly illuminating the stone path and the damp grass outside.The flicker of a lamp pulsed faintly, as though the house itself were breathing in the silence.
Inside, the air smelled of wood, freshly brewed tea, and baked cookies.The furniture was rustic but inviting; a lit fireplace cast lazy dancing shadows across the walls.In the living room, a group of friends rested, releasing quiet sighs and loose laughter after a long day.
"I have to admit, this purchase was totally worth it," Michael said, leaning back in the armchair with a satisfied smile. His silver hair glimmered in the firelight.
"Yeah, Aomine," Elsa added, crossing her legs on the sofa, her long purple hair cascading like a waterfall over the back—"When you said you wanted a place to 'escape work life,' I didn't imagine you would choose such a pretty and well-located cabin."
"Maybe," Historia replied, lying down with her head on Elsa's lap and fidgeting with a cushion."But the bathroom and the rest are kinda meh. It doesn't compare to our place on the 18th floor."
"Historia, don't criticize other people's things," Elsa scolded, tapping her forehead lightly."He complimented our home too, remember? We all worked hard for what we have."
"Aomine-chi has good taste, it feels very homey~" Yuna said sweetly, stretching her arms.
"Yeah, but the money came from our pockets too…" Keyki muttered gloomily, scratching his neck."I wanted to buy something for myself too…"
"That's not nice to bring up, Keyki…" Yuna puffed her cheeks, crossing her arms with an adorable pout.
"No, no, I'm not complaining, Yuna-chan! Really!" Keyki waved his hands, nervous.
The fire crackled in the fireplace, casting orange glimmers across tired yet happy faces.The atmosphere was warm, full of laughter and the scent of tea and freshly polished wood.
Gundou let out a soft laugh, stretching back on the sofa."To me, it's charming. Honestly. Like Michael said—beautiful, cozy… it has that couple-home vibe." She laughed lightly, glancing around.
Historia raised an eyebrow, smirking."Now that you mention it, you're right, Gundou… Don't tell me you want to move here with that crazy Mito of mine, huh?"
Elsa flicked her forehead again, gentle but firm."Historia, don't talk like that. She's our friend."
Michael stretched, letting out a relaxed sigh."Hey, Aomine," he called toward the kitchen, "come to think of it… where's Mito? Haven't seen her all afternoon."
Historia shifted, squinting."Yeah, she's been missing since morning. Wasn't she supposed to come with us?" Her tone carried more irritation than indifference.
Yuna lifted her gaze with a kind smile."Maybe she was delayed~ Mito-chan always shows up when you least expect it~" she sang softly.
Aomine, still in the kitchen, adjusted his oven gloves and pulled out a tray of freshly baked cookies.Sweet steam filled the room and drew everyone's attention.He set the tray down, removed the gloves, and spoke calmly:
"She said she had things to do. This morning she looked… strange. Scared, maybe. I didn't want to push her, and she hasn't come back yet."
Historia clicked her tongue softly."Tsk…"
Michael lifted his voice with a serene air."Well, she'll tell us eventually. For now, let's enjoy being together. Besides, those cookies look amazing."
Aomine nodded. "Tea will be ready soon so you can all have something warm," he said, heading back to the kitchen.
Historia glanced at him sideways while grabbing a cookie."You really do know how to cook… sort of. Not bad," she commented, trying to sound indifferent—though a faint disdain slipped through.
Ignoring it, Aomine returned with a silver teapot and porcelain set. He poured tea slowly, and Elsa spoke up, smiling:
"Aomine, you could teach Historia to cook."
Historia nearly choked. "WHAT?! Why would you say that, Elsa?!" she yelled, her face turning red.
Elsa giggled. "She's been trying to cook for weeks and always ends up asking for help. Maybe you could teach her, Aomine. After all, you worked at a restaurant, right?"
Aomine rubbed the back of his neck, a little awkward but calm."I wouldn't mind. But… it depends on the method she uses."
Elsa tilted her head. "Method?"
"Yes. There's the easy system-assisted method that automates everything and levels you up quickly… and the manual one where you cut, mix, and cook yourself."He poured more tea carefully."I prefer the manual one. It feels like I'm actually the one cooking."
Elsa nodded in understanding."So that's why it's harder for you, Historia. You're using the manual mode, right?"
Historia blushed deeply and shoved her face into a cushion."Ugh… I—just stop talking about my attempts already!" she protested, voice muffled—earning laughs from everyone.
Yuna leaned forward giggling sweetly."Historia-chan looks so cute when she's embarrassed~"
Aomine glanced at her with a faint smile, then drifted off in thought for a moment.
(There are also two modes in player combat: system-guided virtual mode, and manual mode where every motion comes from you…)(Using it means twice the strain, but real-world skills—strength, speed, precision—grow sharper. Maybe that's why some players become so strong without relying on levels… Maybe living is something like that too.)
Laughter continued.Cups emptied slowly, the fire crackled, and for a moment, everything felt perfect.The group, gathered together, sharing tea, jokes, and warmth.
Aomine watched them quietly, saying nothing, yet his eyes carried something deeper: a mix of gratitude… and fear of losing this moment.
________________________________________________________________________________________________
The sound of running water in the kitchen blended with the faint clinking of dishes.Every movement was slow, almost careful, as if the young man feared breaking the silence that ruled the cabin.The dim light of a single lamp was the only thing illuminating the place, and even then, it barely outlined the shapes around him: the lined-up cups, the wooden furniture, and the sleeping bodies of his companions scattered around the room.
Moonlight seeped through the curtains, coating Aomine's blond hair with black-tipped strands in silver.He allowed himself a small smile upon seeing them sleep—each wearing a different expression of peace, satisfaction, or plain exhaustion—before turning his focus back to the sink.He finished rinsing the last plate, dried it carefully, and put it in its place. Everything had to be in order.
When he turned, he noticed the teapot still sitting on the table. The liquid, a light amber color, still released faint steam.He sighed."There's enough left for a couple of cups..." he murmured to himself, picking one up.
With light steps, making sure not to make any noise, he walked toward the glass door leading to the terrace.The soft creak as he opened it sounded like a breath lost in the night.The cold air wrapped around him immediately, making his skin shiver, but he didn't step back.He walked to the wooden railing and leaned his arms on it, the warm cup in one hand, staring into the dark horizon.
From there, the forest stretched like a dark tide under the moon. The trees swayed slowly, and the wind whistled through their branches with a sound that resembled a distant lament.For a moment, everything was calm.
Until a small blue notification glowed before his eyes.
[Message: Mito]"I just finished my meeting. I'll be there in about 25 minutes."
Aomine stared at the message for a few seconds before typing a single word.
"Okay."
He closed the window with a sharp motion.His reflection in the glass stared back at him with the same empty expression he felt inside.Silence returned to dominate the air, though now it felt heavier.
"...What should I do...?" he whispered softly, holding the cup between his hands. "Can I really continue this relationship...?"
The steam from the tea faded into the air, just like his unanswered doubts.
And then, without him noticing, soft footsteps echoed behind him.A feminine voice, cheerful and warm, broke the quiet of the terrace:
"Well, you won't know unless you talk to us, Aomine-chi."
The young man turned slightly, surprised.Moonlight illuminated a female silhouette leaning casually against the doorframe, a smile on her lips.Her tone was light... but in her eyes shone something else: understanding.
"Yuna?" Aomine asked, turning fully with slight surprise.
The girl in the doorway smiled, her slightly trembling voice breaking the silence."Well, who else did you expect to find here alone, huh?" she replied, with the playful yet gentle tone she was known for.
Aomine raised an eyebrow, noticing something odd."Well... you're... shaking."He said it almost innocently, in a chibi-like tone that made the girl laugh softly.
Yuna was indeed hugging herself, shivering from the cold rolling in from the forest.Moonlight brushed her silver hair, making it flutter softly in the breeze. Behind her, the warm interior of the cabin looked inviting... yet she stayed there, as if she didn't want to leave him alone.
A few minutes later, Yuna was now standing beside Aomine.She wore a thick cloak over her shoulders—slightly too big for her frame—that covered nearly her entire torso. In her hands, she held a cup identical to his, filled with the same tea he had prepared earlier.
"Thanks for the warmth," she murmured with a faint smile, lifting the cup to her lips. "I didn't think it'd be this cold."
Steam rose between them, dancing in the moon-tinged air.For a moment, neither of them spoke.The silence was comfortable... and, at the same time, fragile.
Aomine glanced sideways at Yuna, noticing the light blush on her cheeks from the contrast between warm tea and cold air.She, in turn, studied him quietly, trying to read his expression.
"Aomine-chi..." she finally spoke, voice low but firm. "You don't look well. Did something happen?"
"Of course, how else would I look?" Aomine answered quickly, trying to sound casual.
Yuna didn't look at him. Her gaze was fixed on the moon, the silver reflection brushing her pupils."Honestly... you seem different. Before, you were always more motivated, more... alive. I don't know what happened to you, and I won't pretend I know you that well. But these months..."—she smiled faintly—"...these months being together helped me understand you a little. That change in you is obvious, you know? And our friends are worried. A lot."
Aomine didn't answer. His gaze was also fixed on the sky, but his thoughts were far away, somewhere between guilt and exhaustion.
"How would you act...?" he eventually asked, voice low, words dragging. "If even though you have the confidence to fight, you lose it from a tiny hit from reality. Like your own mind kills any attempt to do anything."He paused, taking a breath."You want to help, but end up feeling like an idiot... contradicting yourself over and over again."
His voice faded into the murmur of the wind.Realizing what he just said, he frowned, thinking he sounded stupid.Yuna instead took a sip of tea... and immediately choked.
"Eh? Wait, breathe!" Aomine placed his cup down and gently held her shoulders until she coughed and recovered.
Silence returned, broken only by their breathing.Aomine sighed, half frustrated, half relieved."That was kinda dumb."
Yuna looked at him with a small smile."Yeah... but it was my body's decision, wasn't it?"
He tilted his head, not quite understanding."What... do you mean by that?"
Yuna lowered her gaze to her cup, watching the steam twist around her fingers."The body and the soul are different, Aomine. While the body feels danger, the soul acts."She spoke calmly, as if choosing each word carefully."If it were easy, the body would dominate the soul. We wouldn't run when we know we can't win. We wouldn't choke when speaking. But we do... because our soul trusts, even when the mind disagrees and the body reacts."
Aomine listened silently.Yuna continued:
"That's why we're so unique in how we suffer. Our contradictions make us human. If you ask how I'd act..."—she lifted her eyes to the moon—"...I'd let the moment carry me. If I knew I could die, I'd accept it gladly. Because dying knowing someone will remember me fondly, even for a little while, is worth more than living like a coward."She smiled softly, melancholically."But well... that's just my weird way of seeing things. You have your own, right?"
Aomine took time to answer."Isn't that... a strange way to think?"
"It'd be strange if I just said what you wanted to hear," Yuna replied warmly but firmly."Every action, every response, changes depending on who says it. I can't tell you how to live or what to do. No one can. You'll find your answer when you figure out what keeps you breathing for real."
Her eyes softened."You can be a coward, insane, obsessive... or just yourself. There's no right way to live. You'll know when you understand what you want to do tomorrow."
She took a small sip of tea, closing her eyes briefly."I, for example, just want to keep playing my music. Get tired of it, sleep, then play again. Because that's what I chose. It's simple for me... but for you, it might sound confusing. Because you're not me."
Her words hung in the air, slowly sinking into Aomine's chest.
"If I found that motivation..." he whispered, looking at the moon, "if I knew what came next... would I be okay with myself?"
Yuna let out a faint sigh."As I said..." her voice began to soften, fading, "...that's something only you can answer. Only you can look inside yourself... and carry the cross we all bear."Her eyes darkened, sad."It can hurt, exhaust you, even break you... but that's the price of being alive."
Aomine exhaled tiredly. His shoulders sank slightly. There was frustration and resignation in his eyes, as if all he wanted was a simple answer that would never come."...I guess I just want a quick answer," he muttered, not looking at her.
Yuna watched him with tenderness."Y'know... when you find someone special"—she paused as the wind lifted her silver hair—"or special people, those answers will come on their own."Her smile was warm, sincere."Support, understanding... sometimes they make the questions hurt less."
Aomine remained still, staring at the moon reflected in his cup.(Someone special...? I don't have that... People... maybe...)
They stayed quiet.The artificial moon—hanging in that virtual sky—bathed the balcony in silver light. It looked real enough to forget it wasn't. Their shadows stretched on the wooden floor, almost as if trying to intertwine.
Inside the cabin, everything remained peaceful.But they weren't alone.
From the doorway inside, a figure stood motionless, barely visible in the faint interior light.
Purple hair falling over part of her face, one cheek bruised with a violet mark.Her breathing uneven, as if she had just arrived from a long walk.Dust on her armor, worn-out boots—signs of a rushed return.
Mito.
The weak light spilling from inside barely lit her eyes, but it was enough to show the shine trapped in them: a mix of anger... and something harder to describe.
Her gaze moved first to Yuna and Aomine, standing together under the moon, sharing a serenity that didn't belong to her.Then, slowly, she looked at the others sleeping inside the room: Keyki, Elsa, Gundou, Michael, and Historia.Her jaw tightened, teeth clenching.
(I don't understand those answers either...) she thought, as a dark shadow crossed her expression.
The night continued, unaware of the weight beginning to form between the three.And though no one knew it yet... this would be the last peaceful night they shared together.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________
February 27, 2023 — Floor 25 — EDINBURGH9:45 a.m.
The bustle of a new day spread through the streets.Vendors shouted about their goods, players carried backpacks and chests full of loot, others argued over prices or exchanged information about monsters and safe routes.Among the crowd, one large building stood out: solid, built of gray stone with golden emblems engraved on its walls.Two guards in shining armor, spears crossed, stood watch at the entrance.Above the main door, glowing with rune magic, were the words:
"Central Office of the Edinburgh Headquarters."
Inside, the atmosphere was very different from the chaos outside.The metallic clatter of weapons and laughter filled the vast main hall: some players rested after long expeditions, others drank, planned, or simply sought refuge from the constant danger of the upper floors.
But at the back, behind several doors, there was a different room.Quieter.More refined.The air there was one of command and strategy.
The metallic tap of boots echoed until the person wearing them appeared in the doorway:a young woman in light armor and a short green cape, the guild emblem embroidered on her shoulder.
"Liten reporting with important information, Aomine-senpai." Her military-like tone rang firm as she bowed.
When she lifted her gaze, however, she frowned in confusion.The main desk was not occupied by who she expected.
"M-Michael-san...?" she asked, tilting her head.
The gray-haired young man sitting among several documents looked up with a somewhat strained smile."That's right, Liten-chan. Is something wrong?"
"I thought... Aomine-senpai would be here doing the paperwork."
Michael let out a tense laugh and scratched his cheek."Ah, that. Well… we made a bet, and since we have seven clan leaders, who signs isn't really that important.Don't worry, I'll finish fast," he said, trying to sound casual.
(He's clearly forcing it…) Liten thought with a small sigh.
"Anyway, tell me what you've got. We're all here and listening," Michael added, now with a more natural smile.
Liten nodded."Yes, sir. I was informed that only one player returned from the expedition to locate the floor 25 boss. The rest... didn't come back.They said the survivor was in shock and unable to explain what happened."
Silence took over the room.Worried glances were exchanged.
"I see…" Michael murmured. "Try contacting other groups. Or hire new players for a second attempt."
"I already tried, sir," Liten replied with a deep frown. "Nobody wants to take the risk. Rumor says the murder-guild is attacking even players who just go out to gather items."
More tense stares were exchanged.The atmosphere turned heavy.
"It seems things are getting more unstable," Gundou commented, his deep voice breaking the silence.
"Damn it…" Historia growled, slamming her fist on the table. "All because of those cowards. Instead of helping us progress, they choose to kill other players."
"So, what do we do?" Keyki asked, uneasy. "We can't just sit and do nothing."
"I guess we keep looking for people," Aomine said, though his voice lacked conviction.
Beside him, Mito crossed her arms."We already tried. No one will accept, even if we offer more money," she countered seriously.
Suddenly, a hand shot up."I have an idea!" Yuna exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement, surprising everyone.
They all stared at her, baffled.It was rare for her to speak during strategy meetings.
"I could hold a concert here, inside the headquarters," she said, eyes shining."Music soothes hearts, right? Maybe it'll inspire players, give them some courage."
There was an awkward silence.Then, a few muffled chuckles.
Before anyone could respond, a sharp sound echoed—
THAP!
Michael clapped a hand on the desk and stood up with energetic enthusiasm.
"I got it! And it's going to be fun."
"What are you talking about?" Aomine asked, raising a brow.
"Who are you planning to hire?" Gundou added.
"Are you going to spend guild funds?" Historia asked, arms crossed.
Michael raised his voice with confidence."The eight of us will go! We'll head to the floor 25 boss area. We'll locate the boss room and bring back information to prepare for the raid."
A stunned silence followed.
"Eh? You…?" Aomine stared at him in disbelief. "You hardly ever go to the front lines. Neither does Historia. Elsa could, sure, but Yuna and Keyki… I don't see it."
Michael smiled as if he hadn't heard a single objection."Come on, Aomine. Just like the old days. An expedition together—the original group, remember?It'll be fun!"
Aomine let out a long, exhausted sigh, seeing everyone seemed to be getting excited.
10:35 a.m.
The city buzzed like a chaotic symphony: the clatter of hooves on stone, the constant murmur of merchants, and the metallic echo of armor pieces brushing and bumping against each other.In the lively atmosphere of the floating city, a group of eight people moved forward with a mix of tiredness, laughter, and resignation.
At the front, Michael walked with his usual confident stride, his cape fluttering with each gust of wind.Beside him, Historia and Elsa discussed alternate routes, while Keyki struggled to keep up, carrying an enormous backpack no one had asked him to bring.Yuna hummed a light tune, unfazed by the noise, while Gundou followed behind, serious but wearing a faint, hidden smile.
In the middle of the group, Aomine walked with his wrists tied by a light rope, his expression full of irritation.
"Was this really necessary...?" he muttered, so unconvincingly even he didn't believe it.
Michael turned his head with a teasing grin."Of course! You're too indecisive, so we took precautions." He winked.
"Precautions? This is kidnapping!" Aomine snapped, tugging uselessly against the rope.
Historia let out a quiet laugh."At least we didn't gag you."
"That can be arranged," Mito added from the side, dryly, without even turning to look at him.
Aomine's words died for a moment. His gaze met hers, but Mito quickly looked away, pretending to focus on her mission radar.(Something's wrong with her…) he thought, pressing his lips together.
The group continued down the main streets, where players rushed around buying equipment, trading materials, or negotiating protection contracts.The city of Edinburgh was a reflection of hope and fear: a place of refuge, but also a launch point into the unknown.
As they turned a corner, something caught Aomine's attention.
In front of a humble fabric stall —faded tarps, stacked wooden crates, and a patched-up canopy— stood a girl with reddish-brown hair, her rapier sheathed at her side.The metallic guild plate on her chest revealed her instantly.
Asuna.
She was speaking with an elderly merchant, a gray-bearded man who animatedly held out a cloak across the counter: a crimson mantle with golden trim.Despite the stall's modest appearance, his voice was warm, persuasive.Asuna's gentle expression showed she was genuinely listening.
"This model is special, young lady," the merchant said, lifting the cloak carefully."It's not as sturdy as those from the big guilds, but it's woven with mana fibers that absorb minor damage.Most don't notice, but the difference is in how it protects the heart."
Asuna smiled."The heart, huh? Quite the poetic sales pitch."
"I don't sell things, I sell hope," the old man replied, eyes gleaming with nostalgia."And everyone here could use a little of that, don't you think?"
Asuna held his gaze for a moment, expression somewhere between amused and thoughtful, then let out a soft laugh."Maybe you're right..."
Aomine watched her as they passed by.
(Looks like they're trying to scam her.)
He said nothing, simply lowered his gaze and continued walking with the group.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________
The journey continued for almost an hour.
From lively streets they moved into quieter paths, where the wind blew cold and the echo of their footsteps mixed with those of archers and scouts returning defeated from hunting zones.
By the end of the route, the noise had vanished.Only the whisper of the wind remained, and the crunch of leaves beneath their boots.
Before them, a massive stone gate rose like the entrance to an ancient temple.Runes carved across its surface glowed with a pale blue light, pulsing with a living energy that made the ground tremble.The air grew thick, heavy, charged with the promise of danger.
The eight of them stopped.
"How did we even get here...?" Aomine-chibi asked, dumbfounded.
"It was easy," Michael replied proudly. "We tied you up and dragged you like luggage."
"That's not what I meant!" Aomine grumbled, while the others laughed.
Even Mito smiled, though her face showed a worry she couldn't fully hide.Michael stepped forward, his cape fluttering slightly.
"Stop complaining, come on. It's time to walk," he said firmly.
The group began to move, one after another, into the darkness of the dungeon. Aomine let out a resigned sigh and followed.
The torches embedded in the walls cast their trembling light; the shadows stretched and shrank with every step, as if the corridor itself were playing tricks on them. The echo of their boots bounced off the damp stone, forming a clumsy rhythm: step-step... turn... step. It was a labyrinth that seemed more intent on mocking them than guiding them.
Aomine felt the first twinge as a faint tingling behind his temple. Then came the vein on his forehead: first a thin thread, then a line, until it stood out clearly—his patience escaping in a single groan.
"Aaah, damn it!" he exclaimed—whiny and more theatrical than angry—waving his hands in the air as if to drive the problem away with a gesture.
The group stopped in unison. Gundou tilted his head; Keyki stopped adjusting his backpack; Historia frowned with her usual air of impatience; Elsa raised a questioning eyebrow. Michael, as always, looked at him with that mix of curiosity and expectation he brought to every "mistake" the team made.
"Is something wrong, Aomine?" Gundou asked—his tone calm, though a bead of sweat betrayed how fragile that calm really was.
Aomine pointed with his chin, without the slightest subtlety, to a rock halfway up the wall. On its surface, someone had carved a rough cross—crude, the work of a bored explorer. Beside it, thinner marks formed a subtle trail.
"Look at this," Aomine said, holding back the bitterness in his tone. "I marked this stone seven times on the last round. Now, ten. Every fork, and you always pick the middle path. Every single time. It's like you've got a special talent for leading us right back here by magic."
Michael frowned at the stone; his expression shifted from disbelief to mock innocence in the blink of an eye. "Seriously?" he muttered. "These dungeons sure have a twisted sense of humor."
"It's not humor," Aomine replied. "It's a pattern. And when patterns repeat, they turn into wasted time… and nobody has time for that."
Keyki, who had been trying to figure out how to fit a health bar into his inventory, sighed without malice. "So that's why I had déjà vu. I thought it was my eyes." He shook his head, laughing softly.
Elsa crossed her arms, her voice sharp but more teasing than hostile. "We always go straight. If there's a wall, we push it. If there's a hole, we jump. Sometimes the simple way works."
Historia couldn't resist her usual remark. "That's why we pay explorers—to avoid losing our dignity by choosing paths we don't like."
Aomine took a deep breath; his expression softened into a mix of exasperation and comedic resignation. (God, give me patience. Because if you give me strength right now, I'll use it to rip down every 'this way' sign and throw them at someone's head.) He closed his fist, suppressing the laugh that threatened to break his seriousness.
Then, with a decidedly practical step, he moved forward. He didn't need to announce it—his stride said it all. Passing through the group, he took the lead as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Michael, surprised, showed a faint look of disappointment—as if hoping Aomine would stick to his usual comedy routine—but didn't truly protest.
"Alright," Aomine said quietly but firmly. "I'll lead now. And please, stop picking the middle route. Let's try not to wander around like we're in a carnival."
A few muffled laughs followed, easing the tension just enough. The shadows began to dance again, the torches crackled, and with Aomine at the front, the group resumed their march. This time, the air felt different—less fatalistic, more focused; a small conspiracy of friends messing up the route, but together.
Their footsteps echoed in a strange rhythm: sometimes calm, almost relaxed, and other times a full-blown chaos of clashing metal and startled shouts. Every now and then, the silence of the cave was broken by a clang! followed by an ow, my arm! or the classic Michael, again!?
The enemies weren't anything special—skeletons with chipped swords and half-rusted shields, staggering as if freshly awoken from a thousand-year nap. But as they advanced, the skeletons became more extravagant: armor shifted from iron to silver, and some even gleamed gold, as if ready for a parade.
"Great… now even the skeletons are showing off their gold," Historia muttered sarcastically, loosing an arrow that pierced a skull and sent it rolling downhill.
But the most annoying thing wasn't that. The most annoying thing was Michael.
Every time a new group of enemies appeared, the gray-haired knight didn't hesitate to shove Aomine forward. Sometimes subtly, other times with both hands squarely on his back.
"Go on, leader! Show your courage!" he said with a radiant smile.
Aomine barely turned his head, frowning."Right, right… and you'll just 'supervise,' huh?"
"Exactly," Michael replied seriously, crossing his arms.
Gundou, following close behind, stifled a laugh."Well, at least he admits it."
Meanwhile, Mito walked behind everyone, her scythe resting on her shoulder, her gaze vacant. She seemed physically there but mentally… somewhere else entirely. Her pupils were dilated, her breathing uneven; she didn't seem to hear the jokes or chatter around her.
Aomine glanced at her out of the corner of his eye between a few swings at skeletons, worried, but decided to say nothing. Not yet.
Meanwhile, Keyki dodged clumsily, tripping over an empty helmet that rolled to Yuna's feet. Laughing, she kicked it back toward him.Elsa only shook her head, holding her rapier with elegance."An elite group, they said," she murmured dryly. "Professional explorers, they said."
Historia, amused, let another arrow fly."Hey, at least we've got the best labyrinth guide in the world!" she shouted teasingly at Aomine.
He only sighed, driving his sword into a skeleton's chest as it crumbled into pieces."Yeah… best guide and best decoy," he muttered under his breath.
The scene was mild chaos—more ridiculous than dangerous.Skeletons fell one after another with hollow clatters while the group's complaints and jokes filled the air.Now and then, Michael celebrated a victory that clearly wasn't his; Yuna hummed while smacking enemies with her instrument's neck as if it were a weapon, and Aomine just rolled his eyes, trying to keep pace and composure.
"At this rate," he finally said, "I'll become the team's official tank."
"That sounds perfect!" Michael replied, giving him another hearty pat on the back.
"That wasn't a compliment…" Aomine muttered, resigned, as another skeleton rose only to be cut in half again.
The march continued with laughter, complaints, and the metallic rattle of bones hitting the floor. It wasn't a difficult battle, nor a heroic one; it was a comedy of errors wrapped in dust and echoes.But at least, they were moving forward.
The group's footsteps echoed in unison through the narrow passage. The torches lit the dust suspended in the air, and now and then, the sound of a blade cutting or a shield clashing broke the monotony.
(The monsters aren't as tough as I thought… I'm safe. Though I don't like being the human shield… but… it's a start. I mean, I have to start… searching.) The thought crossed Aomine's mind with a hint of bitterness as he wiped his sword clean with a cloth.
Around him, the remains of fallen skeletons formed a carpet of shattered bones and dented armor. They had already gone through several tunnels, and the map in Aomine's hand showed multiple "X" marks—explored paths, disarmed traps, and dead ends. Only one route remained unchecked.
"I'm tired," Yuna complained, stretching her arms above her head, her voice sounding like a musical sigh.
"I second Yuna's comment," added Historia, walking right behind her. "This is exhausting, boring, and… honestly, I don't even remember why we accepted this job."
"Come on, it's the last stretch," Michael said, flashing a confident smile. "Once we're back, you can all ask for whatever you want. Besides, if we map the whole route, imagine the hope we'll give the guild! And Yuna… you can finally play that concert you keep talking about."
"Really!?" Yuna exclaimed, her eyes sparkling.
(She fell for it.) The thought echoed simultaneously in the minds of Aomine, Historia, and Elsa, as the three exchanged resigned looks.
Gundou let out a nervous chuckle and continued in silence. Behind them all, Mito advanced with slow, dragging steps, her scythe scraping faintly against the ground, her vacant gaze lost on the floor.
"To finish this, I'll—" Aomine began to say, but stopped abruptly.
His foot found no ground.
The group turned just in time to see him frozen in midair, wearing a chibi expression of total acceptance of fate.
(This is going to hurt.)
And without another word, he vanished through a hole in the floor.
"Aomine!" several voices shouted at once.
The sound of his fall echoed for a few seconds, followed by a loud metallic thud.Michael and the others rushed to the edge and saw a steep slope descending to a lower level. Near the brink, a thick rope hung, tied firmly in place.
Below, Aomine had managed to grab the rope at the last second. The friction burned his hands, thin threads of smoke rising as he slid down hard—until he finally came to a stop.
"Ow… ow… ow…" he groaned, shaking his hands. His palms burned, flushed red.
He looked around as he blew on them. The air here felt different—denser, colder, charged with something that made his skin crawl. In front of him stood a massive door, carved from dark iron. But it wasn't the structure itself that froze his blood.
The surface was covered in bodies… or at least what looked like them.Hundreds of human figures fused into the metal, their faces twisted in expressions of terror and agony, their hands stretched outward as if trying to escape the door itself.The shadows danced across them as though they still moved.
Aomine swallowed hard, taking a cautious step forward.
A ping broke the silence.A message appeared in his interface, with Michael's name.
Message — Michael:[Aomine, are you okay? We're coming down now.]
Aomine replied quickly, still staring at the door.
Reply — Aomine:[I'm fine. Come down— I think I found the boss door.]
Upon closing the message window, he moved forward slowly.The cold grew sharper with each step, as if the air itself was stealing the warmth from his skin. The faces of the skeletons—if they were truly skeletons—seemed to watch him from within the metal.And above the upper frame, etched in worn letters, words glowed faintly under the system's pale blue light:
"The cold will reveal the truth of your soul."
Aomine felt a chill run down his spine, one different from the temperature around him.It was something deeper, more personal—like the door itself was watching him.The air thickened, heavy with something he couldn't quite understand, pressing down on his chest from the inside.
He took a step back, swallowing hard.The echo of his own movement bounced once, twice, three times—then vanished into the shadows.
("The cold will reveal the truth of your soul…") he repeated in his mind, and for a moment, he thought he heard breathing—someone else's—on the other side of the metal.
The atmosphere was so dense that even the system made no sound.No music, no notifications, no zone indicators.Only that silence… and the door, which seemed to be waiting.
When he took another step back, a firm hand landed on his shoulder.The contact was so sudden that Aomine jumped in place, turning around with near-instinctive reflexes, half-drawing his sword. His breath caught a second before his eyes focused on who it was.
In front of him, Michael stood with one eyebrow raised, his hand still extended in the air.The gray-haired young man blinked twice, looking confused.
"Something wrong?" he asked, tilting his head.
Aomine, still with his heart pounding, exhaled sharply."You almost scared me to death…" he muttered, lowering his sword. "Don't do that when there's a door covered in human corpses next to us, will you?"
Michael let out a nervous laugh."Sorry, didn't think you were that focused."
The sudden noise and movement drew the others' attention.Elsa, Gundou, and Historia turned toward them with curiosity, while Yuna and Keyki were still busy further back—the brown-haired boy holding the rope, helping Yuna clumsily descend.
"Slower! If I fall, I'm not talking to you for a month!" Yuna shouted, gripping tightly.
"That's why I'm holding you! Just trust me a little!" Keyki replied, smiling nervously.
The scene would've been funny if not for the oppressive atmosphere dominating the place.The air was freezing, heavy, and seemed to swallow any sound beyond a few meters.
Now calmer, Aomine pointed toward the door in front of them."Look at this…" he said softly, almost reverently.
Michael stepped closer and frowned.The structure rose like a living wall of dark iron and hardened bone, and across the upper arch, the inscription shone faintly—cold and bright:
"The cold will reveal the truth of your soul."
The wind through the tunnel shifted at that instant.It was a subtle breeze, but icy—slipping through their clothes and seeping into their bones.Even Michael, who always seemed relaxed, felt goosebumps spread along his arms.
"This… doesn't look like a normal entrance," he murmured, forcing an uneasy smile.
Aomine nodded, his voice barely a whisper."No. It's like… the place is watching us."
Behind them, the rest had finished coming down.Yuna let out a groan as her feet touched the ground, rubbing her cold hands together, while Historia stared at the door with visible discomfort.
"What a depressing decoration," she said sarcastically, crossing her arms. "Who thought this was a good idea?"
"Probably someone who didn't plan on coming back alive," Gundou replied with a half-smile.
For a moment, tension and humor mixed—but no one dared to get closer.Only the sound of the wind and the distant dripping of water filled the silence.
Aomine looked again at the inscription.("The cold will reveal the truth of your soul…")It didn't feel like decoration anymore—it was a warning.
"Well, we're done here, right? I guess we just mark the location and head back," Aomine said, forcing a weary smile.
"Yeah… maybe," Michael answered, his tone thoughtful. "Or… we could just take a peek at the boss. You know, just to see what it looks like."
"Hmm, that could work," Gundou added, crossing his arms. "We'll just look from afar, no fighting. Just to get an idea."
"As long as it ends soon, fine by me," Historia sighed, bored.
The others nodded, resigned. Aomine, defeated by the group's decision, lowered his head and stepped aside.There, slightly behind, he found himself next to Mito. She walked a few paces behind, her eyes fixed on the floor, the faint glow of the icy tunnel reflecting off her armor.
For a few seconds, an uncomfortable silence reigned—until Aomine broke it.
"So… how did it go yesterday?" he asked, not looking directly at her. "I mean, we haven't talked since you got back. Did… something happen?"
"Eh… no, nothing. Just… nothing." Mito answered, averting her gaze, her voice barely audible.
Aomine noticed her posture—her shoulders were tense, her body rigid. There was something different in the way she carried herself, as if every word weighed too much to say.Meanwhile, inside her mind, echoes resounded mercilessly.
("Please, don't do it… we'll give you the money, but not the children…")("Do it. If you don't, I will—right in front of you!")("Damn murderer! How could you!?")("If you just let him die without fighting back, how will we know if he deserved to live?")
The inner voices struck relentlessly—a whirlwind of guilt and memory she couldn't silence.
When they reached the great door, Michael was the first to step forward.He placed his hand on the frozen metal, and a shiver ran through him from fingertips to shoulder. It was an unnatural cold—like something inside the door was slowly draining him.
"Cold… too cold…" he murmured.
Without hesitation, he pushed hard. The sound of the hinges roared through the corridor like metal thunder.A burst of glacial wind surged from inside, slashing the air violently. The temperature dropped instantly; their breaths turned to white vapor, and frost crept across the ground and walls.
The group froze in place.Before them stretched a hall of ice so vast it felt like a sleeping kingdom beneath an eternal storm.The floor, covered in crystalline snow, shimmered with silver light.Pillars of blue crystal rose to a translucent dome that emitted a soft, almost divine glow.
And at the far end…A throne.
Upon it sat a motionless colossus—his beard white as frost, his crown carved from shards of eternal ice.His robes, adorned with frozen feathers, shifted though there was no wind.The entire atmosphere froze solid when his eyes, buried under a pale blue shadow, slowly opened.
A deep, resonant voice filled the chamber:
"Intruder… do you come to claim the dominion of winter?"
The ground trembled.Fragments of ice fell from the columns.Before Michael, a projection materialized:
[■■■■■]
Five glowing blue energy bars floated in the air, pulsing like a frozen heart.The system confirmed it with a metallic chime:
"King of Eternal Frost — Lord Glacius."
No one spoke.Everyone stood frozen, holding their breath.
"W–Wait… did he just talk?" Keyki stammered, stunned.
But no one answered.No boss had ever spoken before. Not once.It was as if something within that code was alive… too alive.
And then, everyone thought the same thing:
("I want to leave. Now.")
Except for one.
Yuna, her face pale and tears streaming down her cheeks, took a step forward.Her body trembled, her lips moving soundlessly, but in her mind, words spilled in confusion and pain.
(No… it can't be… I did this… something so cruel… a soul that can't rest…)
Michael, alarmed, grabbed her just as she was about to cross the glowing green line that marked the safe zone.But the pull was too sudden.Yuna stumbled and fell to the ground.Her hand, searching for support, reached forward… and crossed the line.
A piercing sound filled the chamber.
"ALERT. Player has crossed the challenge threshold. Time to confirm combat: 10… 9… 8…"
"Damn it! This is bad! We have to go!" Aomine shouted.
"Quick, before the counter hits zero! To the rope!" Michael ordered.
The group ran.Michael carried Yuna, who kept reaching toward the boss, whispering through her tears:
"I'm sorry… looks like I have to go back… to his side… I'm sorry… for their deaths…"
Michael looked at her, not fully understanding—until it was already too late.
"3… 2… 1…"
"FIGHT FOR YOUR SURVIVAL, PLAYERS."
As those words echoed, the door of the chamber began to move.
A deep cracking sound rumbled behind them, as if the ice itself were breaking apart.The massive metallic structure started sliding forward, dragging the freezing air of the corridor along with it.
"No… no way!" Michael shouted, eyes wide in horror.
Mito, who was right behind the group, sprinted toward the rope. She reached out—the last thread connecting them to freedom—but before she could grab it, a blast of icy wind struck her hard, throwing her backward.The rope slipped beyond the threshold just as the doors slammed shut with a deafening BOOM—a metallic echo that made the ground tremble beneath their feet.
The chamber—that prison of ice—slowly slid back into place, sealing itself with a final, thunderous crash.The system wasted no time delivering its verdict.
"Defeat the boss to clear the level."
The words hovered before their eyes in pale blue light.The silence that followed was unbearable.They could hear their own breathing—ragged, uneven—the pounding in their ears, the trembling in their hands.
And then came the sound—the creak of a throne rising.
Lord Glacius, the King of Eternal Frost, stood with terrifying solemnity.His cloak of frost rippled like a living blizzard, and his steps echoed—heavy, ancient, almost ritualistic.With a single motion, he raised his sword—a colossus of frozen steel etched with glowing runes—and struck it against the ground.
The impact unleashed a wave of freezing energy.The floor cracked open, and from the ice emerged human figures.First arms, then torsos, and finally whole bodies.
They were skeletons clad in golden armor, brandishing spears that radiated a deadly light.Beside them, others in silver armor rose, long swords in hand—guardians of the abyss.Their blue eyes gleamed with a supernatural, soulless light,and all of them, without exception, pointed their weapons at the group.
The air grew heavier.The cold bit into their skin, down to the bone.Each breath burned.
Aomine looked at them all—Michael, Elsa, Historia, Yuna, Mito, Keyki, Gundou—and knew, with brutal certainty, that there was no escape.Only one option remained.
(Shit…) he thought, eyes wide, a grimace of desperation twisting his face.
The silence shattered as the first skeleton stepped forward, its spear scraping a glowing line of frost through the snow.And then—the battle began.