Running the Veins
The moment the paths split, Ruko felt it—not panic, not fear, but that quiet sense of separation that always came before something irreversible. The sounds of the others faded quickly, swallowed by the fortress's shifting walls, until only the low hum of mana and the echo of his own footsteps remained. He didn't call out. Calling out was pointless in a place that rearranged itself with intention. Instead, he moved.
He ran. Not blindly, not recklessly, but with purpose carved into every step. His body still wasn't fully recovered, and he could feel it—an ache deep in his muscles, a reminder of limits he hadn't escaped yet. "Damn, I thought i got rid of it. It's seems there's no stopping now." But there was no hesitation. If the fortress was alive, then it had a rhythm. And if it had a rhythm, it had veins. The corridors felt wrong. Not dangerous in the obvious way, but layered, like the space itself was stacked on top of other spaces. The walls pulsed faintly, lines of light flowing through them like blood through arteries.
Every turn felt deliberate, as if the fortress was guiding him somewhere without asking permission. Ruko clenched his jaw, forcing his breathing to stay steady. "Yeah… figures," he muttered. "I never get the normal route in the first place anyway." He passed combat without engaging it—adventurers clashing with automated defenses, spells lighting up distant halls. He slipped through gaps, ducked into half-formed passages, trusted instinct over logic. Fighting here would only slow him down, and something deep inside him knew that time mattered more than glory.
At one intersection, a blur crossed his vision. A flash of silver. A familiar presence. Someone sprinted past him from the opposite direction, fast and light, barely touching the ground. For half a second, their eyes met—sharp, calculating, surprised. Then she was gone. Ruko didn't stop. He didn't even turn around. Later, he would realize that had been thief he glanced earlier. Later, he would understand how close they had come to colliding in fate as well as space. But right now, his focus was locked forward, pulled by something he couldn't name.
The deeper he went, the quieter it became. The noise of battle faded completely, replaced by a strange stillness that pressed against his ears. The hum of the fortress grew clearer here, more refined, less chaotic. It wasn't just power—it was control. Ruko slowed his pace, his instincts screaming that he was somewhere he wasn't supposed to be. "Why i feel like this isn't just a weapon," he whispered. "But seems like It's layered… compartmentalized."
Each step forward made his chest feel heavier, not from exhaustion, but from awareness. The fortress wasn't reacting randomly anymore. It felt like it was watching. Measuring. Judging. Ruko thought of Axel. Of the mansion they had cleaned with their own hands. Of the stupid arguments, the loud laughter, the way chaos there at least felt human. He thought of Kazuma's tired complaints, Megumin's explosive pride, Aqua's unbearable confidence masking insecurity, Darkness's strange honesty. For the first time since entering, his pace faltered.
"If I mess this up," he thought quietly, "they won't even know where I disappeared to... and i dont want that." That thought hurt more than he expected. He pushed it down and kept moving. The corridor narrowed, the walls closing in until they were almost brushing his shoulders. Runes began to appear—older, denser, etched so deeply into the metal that they felt permanent in a way the rest of the fortress didn't. The air here was colder. Still. At the end of the passage stood a massive sealed door. No guards. No weapons. Just silence.
Ruko stopped in front of it, one hand hovering inches from the surface. The door radiated pressure—not hostility, but weight. Like standing before something that wasn't meant to be questioned. "This is it i perhaps," he said softly. He didn't know why he knew. He just did. "And i think I'm the only one here." Behind this door was the heart people thought they were fighting over. The place where answers waited—answers that probably didn't want to be found. His reflection stared back at him faintly in the metal, eyes calm, posture steady, but inside his chest something twisted.
Fear? Anticipation? Or the quiet dread of learning too much? Ruko exhaled slowly, grounding himself. "Alright," he murmured. "In and out. That's the plan. Even if I'm alive hehe." But even as he said it, he knew plans rarely survived places like this. He placed his hand on the door. The fortress hummed louder, like it had been waiting. And somewhere far behind him, paths continued to shift, battles raged, and the others fought their own way forward—unaware that Ruko had already reached a point of no return.