Adlet lay still for a long time.
The Sand Graveyard no longer pressed against him with hostility.
It simply existed—silent, vast, indifferent.
His breath was shallow at first, then steadier. The heat remained, the sand still burned against his skin, but the sharp edge of pain had begun to fade.
Slowly, carefully, he shifted his hand to his abdomen.
The wound was still there—but it was no longer bleeding.
Green Aura flowed beneath his skin, gentle and persistent. Not forced. Not rushed. It knitted torn flesh together with quiet efficiency, easing soreness, restoring balance. He focused on it, letting the process finish properly this time.
Only when the pain fully receded did he allow himself to relax.
Something else stirred inside him.
A presence.
Not foreign.
Not intrusive.
Recognizable.
Adlet exhaled and let his eyes close.
So… it worked.
A soft ripple passed through his awareness.
"Adlet."
The voice did not echo from nowhere.
It came from within.
He smiled faintly.
The familiar clearing greeted him.
Grass swayed gently despite the absence of wind. The river flowed as it always had, its surface reflecting a sky that did not belong to any world Adlet knew. Calm. Timeless.
And at the water's edge floated Pami.
The long, slender fish drifted in a slow arc, white and gold scales shimmering softly. Seven ribbon-like tails trailed behind him—
—and Adlet stopped.
One of them glowed.
Not faintly.
Not subtly.
A translucent veil of luminous yellow flowed along the ribbon's length, pulsing softly with restrained motion.
Adlet stopped a short distance away, his expression steady.
"I thought so," he said quietly.
He had seen it already—back in the Sand Graveyard.
The way the Omni Cheetah's body had dissolved into light.
The way that light had answered his own presence.
This was simply the confirmation.
Pami turned in the air, his golden ribbons drifting slowly around him.
"The Omni Cheetah," he said calmly. "It accepted defeat."
Adlet nodded.
"Its will never broke. But at the end… it understood."
There was no triumph in his voice. No exhilaration.
Only a quiet satisfaction—earned through survival, not victory.
Pami drifted closer, his tone thoughtful.
"The world has acknowledged the outcome," he said. "You did not seek to dominate it. You only endured.
But in the end… the result was absolute."
Adlet studied the glowing ribbon, eyes focused rather than wide.
"So this is its legacy," he murmured. "Not only speed… but choice. Direction. Control."
"Yes," Pami answered. "What remains is not the hunt—but the movement that defined it."
Adlet exhaled slowly.
"I'll carry it properly," he said. "I owe it that much."
Pami continued, tone calm but precise.
"The cheetah did not survive by being faster than everything. It survived by choosing where and how to move. Explosivity. Directional change. Commitment without hesitation."
Adlet nodded slowly.
"That explains why it felt so impossible to corner," he said. "Even when I forced it back… it always had an answer."
"And now," Pami said, "you will have to learn restraint again."
Adlet groaned softly.
"Let me guess," he said. "I can't just activate it and move like it did."
Pami's tails rippled—a gesture Adlet had come to recognize as amusement.
"You may try," he said. "But your body has never known such movement. Not yet."
Adlet grinned.
"I can't wait."
They remained by the river a while longer, the quiet of the clearing settling naturally around them.
Adlet felt it—not as a surge, not as something sudden, but as a steady presence.
Their connection was stronger now. More stable. Less distant.
He exhaled slowly.
"It's clearer," he said at last. "Your voice. Your presence. Even outside this place."
Pami's ribbons drifted lazily in the air.
"Our bond continues to deepen," he replied. "Not through moments alone—but through accumulation. Through what you endure. What you accept."
Adlet nodded. That felt right.
"I noticed it during the fight," he added. "I wasn't searching for you. I just… knew you were there."
"Yes," Pami said simply.
Silence returned between them, calm rather than heavy.
Adlet glanced at the river, watching the slow current pass between the stones.
"The Omni Cheetah," he said. "It didn't hesitate. It adapted. Learned. Pressured me without rushing."
He paused.
"I've never faced something like that before."
Pami did not interrupt.
"It forced me to be precise," Adlet continued. "To choose when to react. When to wait. When not to answer at all."
A faint smile touched his lips.
"I think… that's why this power answered me."
Pami drifted slightly closer.
"Then remember that feeling," he said. "Not the danger—but the clarity it demanded."
Adlet closed his eyes for a moment.
"…I will."
The clearing began to soften at the edges, colors fading as if carried away by the river itself.
"Rest," Pami said quietly. "Your body has endured much. And your path does not slow."
Adlet let the world dissolve around him—
not with reluctance,
but with readiness.
Adlet opened his eyes to the Sand Graveyard once more.
The heat returned. The silence remained.
But he felt… whole.
He rose slowly, testing his weight. No pain. No dizziness. Just exhaustion settling deep in his muscles.
He turned toward Savar and began walking.
At first, he didn't use the new Aura.
Then curiosity got the better of him.
He inhaled and let the yellow flow.
The effect was immediate.
His footing vanished.
Adlet stumbled forward, barely catching himself before faceplanting into the sand.
"What the—"
He tried again.
A step, reinforced by yellow—
—and he shot sideways instead, momentum carrying him far past where he intended to be. He skidded, rolled, and ended up on his back, staring at the unmoving stone ceiling.
"…Okay," he muttered. "That's going to take work."
Over the next hours, he experimented cautiously.
Short bursts. Minimal reinforcement. Controlled intent.
Sometimes it worked.
Sometimes it absolutely did not.
He tripped more than once trying to change direction too sharply. Once, he misjudged a pivot and sent himself tumbling down a dune in an undignified mess of sand and frustration.
Still—he laughed.
Because when it did work…
It felt incredible.
He reached Savar by nightfall, dusty, tired, but visibly alive.
The guards let him through without comment.
At the guild, the familiar official raised an eyebrow when Adlet approached empty-handed.
Then he looked again.
"…You're back already," he said. "Where's the proof?"
Adlet froze for half a heartbeat.
He hadn't thought about this.
In the Sand Graveyard, survival had eclipsed everything else. The fight. The exhaustion. The aftermath. The body dissolving into light. At no point had he considered what he would say once he returned.
He couldn't tell the truth.
So he chose something that wouldn't break it.
"I found the target," Adlet said after a brief pause. His voice remained steady, even as his thoughts raced. "I engaged it… but I couldn't stay."
The official frowned slightly. "You didn't finish it?"
"I did," Adlet replied. "But another Apex entered the area. Strong enough that retreat was the safer option."
Silence stretched between them.
The official studied Adlet carefully now—not just his words, but his posture, the state of his gear, the faint signs of wear he hadn't fully hidden. He exhaled through his nose.
"…That happens out there," he said at last. "Especially in the Sand Graveyard."
He reached for the ledger.
"I'll validate the mission," the official said. "But understand this—bringing back proof exists for a reason. Don't make a habit of returning empty-handed."
Adlet inclined his head. "Understood."
The quill scratched briefly against parchment.
Adlet felt nothing in particular as the record was marked.
No relief.
No satisfaction.
Whether the mission was validated or not mattered little. The true outcome of that fight had already been decided in the Sand Graveyard—and it wasn't written in ink.
He was already thinking ahead.
"When is my next assignment?" Adlet asked.
The official paused, studying him for a moment, then reached beneath the desk and slid a parchment across the surface.
"Rank 4," he said. "Impaling Buffalo. Highly aggressive. Territorial. Last sighted deeper in the Graveyard."
Adlet took the parchment, eyes scanning it only briefly.
Not with anticipation.
Not with dread.
Just acceptance.
"Thanks," he said, already turning away.
The mission was secondary.
What mattered now was mastering what he had gained.
As he left the guild and stepped back into the city's dim lights, a faint smile tugged at his lips.
The Sand Graveyard awaited him again.
Not because he had to go.
But because now—
He wanted to run.
And learn how to stop.