The sun hung like a golden eye above the jagged peaks, casting elongated shadows through the dense canopy. Shafts of light pierced the foliage, painting the dirt path in a mosaic of gold and green. All around them, the wilderness stretched endlessly—an untouched world of towering trees and whispering leaves. The air was crisp, filled with the earthy scent of moss and bark, and birdsongs echoed faintly from the distance. Daeshim and Elira walked in silence, the leaves crunching beneath their feet. Their journey through this alien world had tested their limits, and though Elira said nothing, her steps had grown heavier. "Daeshim... I'm tired," Elira whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "And so, so thirsty." Daeshim turned his head toward her without stopping. His voice remained calm, but his eyes scanned the treetops instinctively. "We're in a jungle, not a desert. There's bound to be a stream or spring nearby. Just endure a little more." Elira nodded, mustering a small smile, but her pace remained sluggish. They moved ahead. Then, suddenly—Daeshim froze. His hand flew up to block her path, his other hand already gripping the hilt of his sword. "Stay behind me," he said lowly, tone razor-sharp. A shift in the air. Before a leaf could fall to the ground, it came. A blur. **Something—**no, **someone—**rushed from the dense underbrush, faster than thought, a shadow that barely even disturbed the grass. It wasn't Necravore. It wasn't Seraphin. It was something else. Daeshim barely brought his sword up before the figure struck. A silver claw slashed across his cheek, drawing a thin line of blood. His body jerked back from the blow, and a searing pain registered as warm blood trickled down his face. "You…" Daeshim growled, his voice like thunder wrapped in ice. He touched the wound lightly, staring at the red stain on his fingertips. "You scarred my face." He lifted his head slowly, eyes narrowing into an abyss. His aura shifted—like a blade being unsheathed. "I'm going to make you pay for that." The figure darted in again. Daeshim parried, metal shrieking against metal. Blades clashed in flurries too fast for the eye. To Elira, the fight was a blur of motion—flashes of steel, gusts of air, and shockwaves that sent leaves spiraling. Daeshim's breathing slowed. He entered that zone—the stillness before the storm inside him ignited. "He's fast. Faster than Vel'Zar. But his movements are sharp, mechanical. Predictable, if I can read the rhythm…" Steel rang out again as Daeshim flipped backward, landing softly, knees bent. His opponent lunged—and this time Daeshim didn't block. He sidestepped with almost unnatural calm, brought his sword up, and cut the enemy clean across the chest in a sweeping arc. The thing stumbled, twitching. Then—it smiled. Before Daeshim could react, the creature dissolved into dust. Gone. "Not a Necravore," Daeshim muttered. "Not a Seraphin. What are you?" Silence answered. Daeshim's body relaxed slightly. He glanced at his sword and murmured, "Vel'Zar." Dark light crackled along the blade. Absorption. A surge of new speed filled his muscles—twice what it had been before. The world slowed around him for a breath. Even the rustle of the trees sounded like a slow sigh. "That thing was strong," Daeshim muttered. "But not strong enough." They moved on, both shaken but determined. The deeper they went, the more the forest thickened. Light began to fade, even though the sun hadn't set. "This world is... changing." After a while, the hairs on Daeshim's neck stood. He froze again. That same pressure—the same strange sense he felt before the earlier ambush—returned. But now... it was ten times heavier. "Elira," he said. "Hold onto me." She wrapped her arms around his waist. He tried to take flight—wings flared from his back, glowing faintly. But— Nothing. His feet stayed grounded. "What?!" Daeshim hissed. "My powers… Why can't I fly?" Just then, a voice echoed inside his mind. It wasn't his own. "You cannot flee here. Not until you prove you deserve the next power. Fight. Survive. Earn it." Daeshim's lips curled into a grin. "So I was right... something stronger awaits. Then let's begin." Elira trembled slightly. "Daeshim… something's coming." From the shadows, shapes emerged. One after another. Hundreds. Thousands. The same twisted beings—same as the one he fought before—crept out from every corner. Elira stepped back. "This is—this is suicide." "No," Daeshim said, drawing both swords. They weren't the same blades from before. Now, they pulsed with a deep violet aura, arcs of energy dancing along the edges. They were alive. "This is evolution." He activated every power he had. His eyes turned jet black. A dark mist poured from his skin, tendrils swirling around his arms. He stood like a storm ready to break, surrounded by a sea of enemies. Then—he vanished. Reappeared behind a creature, blade already through its neck. Then another. And another. He blurred through the battlefield like a phantom, leaving only corpses in his wake. Blood sprayed. Bones cracked. But the enemy began to adapt. They surged together. Hundreds rushed at once, claws slashing, shrieks echoing like banshees. Daeshim gritted his teeth, spinning in a deadly spiral, blades dancing around him. Dozens fell, but so did his strength. Blood marked his arms. Cuts lined his torso. "Damn it," he gasped, falling to one knee. Elira screamed. "DAESHIM!" His eyes burned as he raised one hand. The air rippled. Mirror Illusion. An entire battalion of monsters was sucked into a prism of reflective glass. They thrashed and screamed inside, but couldn't escape. Within that world, Daeshim duplicated himself a hundredfold. He slaughtered them from every angle. Outside, the mirror shattered—and a crimson mist spread. He turned to the remaining creatures, now stunned, frozen in fear. "Let me show you what fire from a dragon's soul feels like." He raised both hands. Dragonflame. A wave of hellfire exploded from his chest, sweeping through the jungle like a living inferno. Trees burned. Monsters melted. Screams echoed like dying stars. When it was over—silence. Nothing moved. Smoke billowed. Charred bodies littered the ground. Daeshim stood in the center, chest heaving, soaked in sweat and blood. His blades dimmed. He dropped to one knee, the world spinning around him. "Still not enough," he whispered. "Still too many enemies… too little time." Elira rushed to his side, eyes wide. "You… you killed them all…" Daeshim gave a weak grin. "Told you I was strong." Then his vision blurred. And from deep within the smoke, a shape moved. Something bigger. Something worse.
