Cael sat in a small café near the teleportation terminal, sipping his coffee in silence while Layla spoke with the portal security officers.
Both were disguised with light blue hair and amber eyes; they are siblings on paper, travelers in appearance.
The checkup ended quickly. The guards saluted them out of habit, none the wiser.
Cael rose, set the empty cup down, and joined Layla as they stepped into the shimmering blue portal.
For one instant, everything stilled; the hum of engines, the chatter of the crowd, even the city's heartbeat.
It didn't take long before the peaceful silence turned into mournful cries of people.
The portal's light faded, and the world reassembled itself around him: a military service zone, the Emergency Medical Sector.
Nurses sprinted between beds. Doctors shouted orders over the screams. The stench of antiseptic barely masked the copper tang of blood.
It didn't take long to understand what had happened.
Most of the injured wore scavenger gear; mercenaries and slum workers who'd risked the outer Corrupt Zones, hoping for a lucky haul.
Cael watched as a medic failed to resuscitate a young man missing both arms. Another nurse was crying quietly while stitching someone's leg back on.
'The military probably placed the arrival gate here on purpose.' Cael thought
'A warning: enter the Corrupt Zones, and you'll end up here.'
He exhaled slowly and turned away. "Let's go."
Layla followed wordlessly; her facial expression was unmoved, like the shadow she was trained to be.
As they stepped beyond the gates, the cries of the wounded faded into the hum of city life. Caelir didn't look back.
...
'Pathetic.'
That's what I call them.
Those people could earn money in countless ways without risking their lives.
Even if they're uneducated, they could still make something of themselves if they had the will for it.
I respect only two kinds of people:
Those who don't blame others for their mistakes, and those who don't make excuses for their incompetence.
But no, don't mistake that for admiration of righteousness.
I respect them because they don't give a damn about others.
They have no pride to protect, only egos to feed.
And that makes them dangerous yet reliable.
These people will do anything for what they want.
They're just built different.
I rolled my eyes, glancing at Layla walking silently beside me.
She's one of them.
She climbed the ladder on ego, and she never once apologized to anyone. She never had any reason to do so.
A small grin tugged at my lips as I remembered the few times her egoistic side had flared through that calm facade.
I stopped walking and turned toward her.
"If you have any questions, ask now."
She met my gaze immediately, calm as always.
"Where are we going for vacation?"
"Vernholt," I replied casually.
I watched Layla's stony expression crack into surprise for a few seconds before returning to its usual calm.
I don't blame her. Vernholt had a reputation that made even seasoned Hunters hesitate.
It is just a low-grade corrupted zone, but one with a particularly dark history.
Noticing my silence, Layla finally spoke.
"I… don't think this is a good choice. Forgive me for saying this, but you're still in the Dormant stage. To you, a corrupt zone is poison."
She hesitated, then added firmly,
"And it's my duty to protect you. I can't allow you to—"
Layla's voice stopped mid-sentence. Her eyes widened slightly, surprise flashing through her usual composure.
She finally sensed it. The change in me.
She never expected me to break through to 'Hunter'. But what truly startled her was that she couldn't even feel my stage anymore. Unless I allowed her to be.
Layla didn't ask why or how. She was too disciplined for that. Still, her fingers curled into a fist before she said quietly,
"I will protect you in the corrupt zone."
I tilted my head slightly, amused.
I could guess what she was feeling: her ego got hurt.
She'd been assigned to guard me, yet she hadn't even realized I'd surpassed her awareness.
How can you protect someone whose existence already slipped past your senses?
'That should be enough motivation,'
'A reminder to train harder.'
The road stretched ahead, winding toward the mountains.
Between the cliffs, I could see enormous trees breaking through the mist, and at their base, a small village.
Despite this world's advanced technology, war had drained its progress.
Due to the lack of resources, outside the main cities, villages like this one still lived in fragments of an older era, untouched by innovation.
Layla and I followed the dirt path down toward the settlement.
The air grew heavier the closer we came.
The village was lively, full of mercenaries, low-ranked Awakeners, and a handful of civilians trying to survive between them.
The smell of iron, smoke, and sweat hung thick in the air. It blended with the chatter of traders and the constant clatter of gear.
I didn't come here for sightseeing.
There's only reason I visit here in every loop is to get my idiot friend out of this place.
It's become a routine for me over the last three regressions.
He has one of the greatest potentials of this generation.
But right now, he's just a 12-year-old kid.
You see… he's a special case.
I wondered how I'd rough him up without killing him.