"We're here, Bug."
Lou's voice broke the eerie silence, roughened by exhaustion. His slumped posture, the yawn he barely stifled—it all spoke of weariness settling into his bones.
I, on the other hand, felt nothing of the sort.
Instead, something far heavier stirred within me. A turbulent mix of emotions churned in my chest—nostalgia at standing in a place once so familiar, sorrow at its ruin, longing for a life lost to time. Or maybe it was something else entirely, something buried beneath a suffocating veil.
What was this overwhelming sensation?
My fingers brushed against rough, weathered stone, grounding me in reality.
Before me stretched the remains of Gloria.
Cracked cobblestones, their once-majestic paths fractured by time, now lay scattered beneath encroaching moss. Buildings, once towering symbols of prosperity, had crumbled into skeletal ruins. A river—nothing like the proud lifeline I remembered—carved a lonely path through the wreckage.
And then, my gaze fell upon something unmistakable.
A vast, open space, eerily hollow amidst the wreckage.
It wasn't vast because of the destruction—it had always been this empty. The towering gallows. The weathered guillotines. The worn, blood-stained crosses.
The Central Square of Execution.
A slow breath left my lips.
Every step forward pulled me deeper into memories I wasn't sure I wanted to relive. My fingers traced the cold stone, a fleeting reassurance that this place—my kingdom—had truly existed. That it wasn't just a nightmare I had conjured in death.
But the kingdom I once cherished was no more.
Where grandeur once stood, only desolation remained.
Yet… amidst the ruin, something felt out of place.
At the very heart of the destruction, where the Castle of Crownwell once dominated the skyline, a single tower loomed. A stark, defiant monolith.
Unlike the rest of Gloria's remains, this structure was different. Newer. Unfitting. Built of brick and cement, foreign in its very existence.
My eyes narrowed. That wasn't here before.
"Lou…" I gestured toward the tower. "See that?"
It took him a second to register my words, grogginess still weighing on his movements. He pried one eye open, suppressing another yawn.
"Hm?"
Then, as his gaze settled on the anomaly, I watched the shift in his expression. A slow blink, a deeper squint.
"That…" He exhaled, rubbing at his face. "…doesn't exactly scream Gloria's finest architecture, does it?"
I snorted. "Even a blind squirrel could figure that out."
Lou shot me a tired glare, muttering under his breath.
"Arrogant Bug."
"Alright, alright." Lou stretched his arms, rolling his shoulders with a lazy grin. "Gut feeling says we should check it out."
He took a tentative step toward the tower, and without hesitation, I followed.
"Always gotta trust my gut, right?"
He barely finished his sentence before—
BUZZZZ.
A warm, electric hum shot through my body. My breath hitched. My muscles tensed as a familiar and unmistakable energy crackled through me, setting every nerve on edge.
Mana.
My head snapped toward Lou. "Mana," I hissed, "I can feel it."
His eyes widened, but I didn't wait for a reaction—I was already moving.
You might wonder why we were diving headfirst into an unauthorized mission. Why take the risk? Why venture into the unknown without backup?
The answer was simple. Mana.
Did it still exist naturally, woven into the fabric of the world like in the age of Gloria? Or had someone—somewhere—discovered a way to manufacture it?
This wasn't just a curiosity. It was a mystery that demanded unraveling.
And here's where things got even stranger.
I wasn't supposed to sense Mana. I was a Flow Practitioner—a wielder of an entirely different force. Unlike Mana, which fueled magic, Flow coursed through one's body, enhancing physical prowess and other blah blah blah.
Yet, somehow… I felt it.
No artificial modifications. No arcane rituals. No external catalyst.
Had I always possessed this sensitivity? Had my early years simply been devoid of Mana, leaving me unaware of my own ability?
One thing was certain—I wasn't born with Mana itself. There was none within me, only the familiar current of Flow coursing through my circuits. But… if I could sense it, then maybe others could too.
Maybe some were even born with Mana and affinities.
And if that was true…
What else had changed in this world?
---
The closer we got to the tower, the denser the Mana became. There was no doubt about it—Mana wielders were inside.
Then—
THUD!
A small body slammed into me, nearly knocking me off balance.
A girl, no older than five, landed hard on the ground, skidding backward before coming to a stop. Her breath hitched, wide blue eyes brimming with fear.
The moment of impact sent a jolt through me—a sensation foreign to this body, yet all too familiar to my mind. That faint warmth, that tingling hum coursing beneath my skin… Mana.
There was no mistaking it. This girl had Mana, a decent reserve of it.
"Ow…" the girl whimpered, barely above a whisper.
I turned to face her, and my fists clenched.
She was tiny—frail enough that a strong wind might topple her. A single tattered cloth barely covered her emaciated frame, and around her neck…
A soul-leeching collar.
Another slave.
Lou knelt beside her, concern flickering across his face. "Hey there," he said softly, hesitant. "Are you alright?"
He trailed off, his brow furrowing. "Though… come to think of it, that was a stupid question. You don't exactly look—"
"Took you long enough to notice, Lou," I cut in, my tone sharp.
A vein twitched at his temple, but he didn't bite back. His focus remained on the girl.
She trembled as she pulled her ragged cloth tighter around her, flinching at every tiny movement. Her lips parted, a stammered breath escaping—
"I-I…"
But whatever she wanted to say never came.
Crunch.
Footsteps. Slow. Measured. Purposeful.
Lou shot to his feet, his entire posture shifting from casual to casual-combat-ready in an instant.
I didn't hesitate. My fingers curled around the Morphblade in my pocket, the cool hilt a reassuring weight in my grasp.
Whoever was approaching now wasn't another victim.
This was a predator.
"There you are, Mina."
A voice cut through the tension like a blade, smooth yet dripping with something off.
From the undergrowth, a figure emerged—a young man, early twenties, with spiky yellow hair and piercing black eyes. The sunlight carved shadows across his sharp features, his skin clean, untouched, a stark contrast to the filth-streaked ruins around us.
A long, light brown coat swayed around him, concealing most of his attire. But what unsettled me wasn't his appearance.
It was the way he walked.
Unhurried. Unbothered. Confident.
As if Lou and I didn't exist.
Mina did, though.
The second she saw him, she bolted behind me. Her tiny fingers clawed at my tracksuit, trembling violently.
"N-no…" she choked out, barely above a whisper.
"Come now, Mina," the boy crooned, voice like poisoned honey. "You gave everyone quite a fright. Your friends are worried."
That last word carried something sinister.
Mina's grip on me tightened, her tear-stained eyes darting between the newcomer and me. A silent plea. A desperate cry for help.
Lou and I didn't move. Didn't breathe.
The boy stopped a few steps away, hands still tucked lazily into his coat pockets. Then, finally, he acknowledged us.
His eyes—calculating.
"Excuse me, miss," he said, voice smooth as silk, as if we were discussing the weather. "Would you kindly return Mina to me? A child wandering alone in this autumn chill… quite irresponsible, wouldn't you say?"
The polite mask barely covered the threat underneath.
My patience snapped.
Shiiing—
The Morphblade flickered into existence in my hand, reshaping into a dagger, the tip inches from his chest.
"Move another inch if you dare," I growled.
Lou remained silent, watching, waiting.
The boy finally halted. But not in fear.
He hummed.
A flicker of amusement, his dark eyes lingering on the blade before drifting back up to meet mine.
"Indeed," he mused. "I sensed your Flow… even in its fluctuating state." His gaze flicked to Lou then returned to me, measured, unreadable. "Though I must admit, I hadn't anticipated such a hostile reception."
"…Perhaps it's unavoidable then," he murmured, almost to himself.
Before I could react—
CRACK.
His hand shot out like a whip, seizing my wrist with inhuman speed. At the same time, his knee slammed into my stomach.
A breath-stealing impact.
Pain exploded in my gut, paralyzing me for a crucial second. This wasn't just raw strength—his speed was unnatural. My undeveloped body had no chance of keeping up.
I barely had time to recover before he let go, smoothly sidestepping and aiming a sharp punch at Lou.
Bad idea.
Lou didn't even flinch. His arm snapped up, effortlessly blocking the blow. To Lou, it must've felt like a child throwing a tantrum.
With a single hand, Lou grabbed him—
And tossed him like a rag doll.
The boy twisted mid-air, landing lightly on his feet. Unshaken. Unbothered. Like a cat dropping from a tree.
Lou exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "Bug."
Flow flickered around his arms, raw power coiling beneath his skin.
"Mind if I handle the babysitting?"
Still clutching my stomach, I nodded, wrapping a protective arm around Mina's trembling frame. "Go nuts," I rasped.
The boy, unfazed, loosened the belt on his coat. "Impressive strength," he admitted, voice devoid of fear. "I apologize for disrespecting you."
The coat hit the ground.
A surge of energy.
Chilling.
The air around us turned frigid as a cold purple aura erupted from his body. Flow. But not just any Flow.
Cold... Not as a feeling, but he really emitted cold Aura.
So that's why he wore a coat in this heat.
Lou's frown deepened as he took a step forward. "Huh. A Flow wielder? Same team, then." He scratched the back of his neck. "Didn't pick up on it before. Thought you were one of…" His gaze flickered toward Mina. Hesitant.
But the boy wasn't interested in conversation.
He lunged.
This time, with real intent.
His fist rocketed toward Lou's face, a blur of motion—
SHHHK.
Lou's blade was out before the punch could connect. The sudden glint of steel forced the boy back a step, his attack cut short.
"No respect for your elders either," Lou sighed, sheathing his sword back in one smooth motion. "Alright, let's see…" He cocked his head, analyzing. "Flow manipulation, boosting one physical attribute to superhuman levels…"
His eyes sharpened.
"You must be a Vanguard."
To my surprise, the boy nodded curtly, a flicker of civility amidst the tension.
"Apologies for my earlier rudeness. Disrespecting my elders was never my intention."
Then, as if acknowledging Lou's deduction as a formality, he added, "And indeed. I belong to the Vanguard class."
But the pleasantries ended there.
Without warning, he lunged again—only to abort his attack mid-air the instant Lou raised his fist. A feint.
His hand darted out, clamping onto Lou's forearm like a vice. With seamless precision, he twisted, using Lou's own force against him, and swung a brutal punch straight for Lou's head.
It was a well-executed maneuver.
It should've worked.
But this was Lou.
With practiced ease, Lou snatched his leg out of the air before the strike could land. A moment later, the boy was airborne again—spun like a rag doll before being sent crashing into the ground in a cloud of dust.
Classic Lou. The guy wasn't just about winning—he liked humiliating his opponents.
I expected the boy to groan in pain, maybe spit out some dirt. What I didn't expect was Lou wincing and shaking his hand as if he'd just burned it.
"The hell?" Lou muttered, flexing his fingers. Two of them were bent at odd angles.
I blinked.
Lou actually got hurt?
Lou shot the boy a grudging look of respect, popping his fingers back into place with a sickening crack. A second later, the damage vanished as Flow pulsed through his fingers, knitting the bones back together. Tsk, Harmonizers and their sick healing…
"Cold Flow, huh? And those reflexes… You're pretty damn good for a stranger." He rolled his wrist before flashing a sharp grin. "Name's Lou, by the way."
The boy let out a slow sigh, brushing the dust off his tunic. Then, with unexpected grace, he bowed with a flourish.
"Oliver Quartz. A pleasure."
He straightened, rolling his shoulders, a playful glint in his dark eyes.
Lou sighed, rubbing his temple. "Man, you're way too easygoing. I could die just watching you."
I barked out a laugh.
Him? Easygoing?
That was rich coming from Lou.
Oliver, seemingly unfazed by the remark, walked over to retrieve his coat, shaking off the dust as he met Lou's gaze once more.
"You mentioned being Lou," he mused. "By any chance, are you Lou Haventon, the Experience Sponsor?"
Lou puffed out his chest like a peacock, a triumphant chuckle bubbling up.
"The one and only! Sponsor of Experience!" he declared.
I groaned.
And, because one facepalm wasn't enough, I did another.
Oliver gave a sharp nod, bowing once more.
"Then, as much as I'd love to continue this sparring session, I'm afraid I'll have to make a tactical retreat."
His gaze flickered toward Lou, who was wearing the most childish look of disappointment I'd ever seen.
"Huh?" Lou frowned, utterly baffled. "But—why? Fighting you might actually give me some answers! We can settle this! So why run now?"
Oliver sighed. "Because I have no interest in fighting a battle I cannot win."
His eyes darted toward me—no, toward Mina—and my grip around her small, trembling shoulders instinctively tightened.
Then, in a heartbeat—he moved.
A blur.
Before I could react, Oliver materialized inches from me, his dark eyes boring into mine.
My body moved on reflex.
The Morphblade flared to life in my hand.
A dagger slashed outward in a blink, a deadly arc aimed straight for his throat—
But he was faster.
With that same inhuman speed, he vanished again, leaping back just as the blade sliced the air where his neck had been a moment prior.
What the hell?
I scrambled to my feet, heart hammering, pulling Mina behind me as my glare hardened.
Oliver simply sighed. "Hold on," he said, tone oddly calm. "As I mentioned earlier, good lady—I have no interest in fighting anymore. My apologies if I startled you."
Then, in one smooth motion, he tossed his coat at my feet.
I barely resisted the urge to kick it away. Instead, I nudged it with my foot, frowning.
"…And what's with the coat?" I asked. "A parting gift?"
He shrugged, utterly unfazed. "No. Just contemplating Mina's return. However, the parting gift is on the way."
His fingers dipped into his pocket, retrieving a small device that hummed with an otherworldly energy.
"As for the coat," he continued, tilting his head slightly, "consider it a favor."
A favor? For me?
"Why?" My voice came out sharper than intended.
Oliver met my gaze, studying me with that unreadable expression.
"Your Flow and Aura—" he gestured toward me, "they need dampening if you intend to interact with other Flow users properly." His eyes flickered to the small, glowing device in his palm. "The concealing item you're using right now is... insufficient, unfortunately."
My breath caught in my throat. He knew.
But before I could speak, he smirked slightly.
"Oh, and stop holding back, will you? Earlier, I could say that you let my fist land on purpose," His voice was almost teasing, but there was an underlying weight to his words. "There's no point in masking your full potential if it means you'll never truly face your opponent."
Holding back?
Just… How did he know?