Arjun (45) looked up at 89, his eyes filled with pain and frustration. "Why are you helping me?" he asked. "Go away. If you help me, they'll just bully you too. I don't need your pity."
89 shook his head. "I don't care about them."
The other kids laughed. "Look at him! He thinks he can protect the loser."
One of the bullies stepped forward. "Maybe you need some bullying too." He swung his fist, aiming for 89's face—
BAM!
Before he could land the hit, 89's foot connected with his face. The boy collapsed, blood dripping from his mouth. The other kids froze, fear flashing in their eyes before they turned and ran. The injured bully scrambled to his feet and fled after them.
89 turned back to Arjun. "Are you okay?"
Arjun lowered his head. "I'm fine… Please, just leave me alone. I'm weak. I can't do anything for you."
"You don't have to do anything for me," 89 said. "I just want to be your friend."
Arjun clenched his fists. "Why? I'm useless. Even my own parents think so."
"That doesn't matter to me," 89 said with a grin. "Friendship isn't about power."
But Arjun just ran off.
The next day, and the days after, Arjun ignored 89. But he noticed something—no one bullied him anymore. If anyone tried, 89 would beat them up.
One evening, they sat by the river. 89 stood, skipping stones across the water, while Arjun sat on the ground. Finally, Arjun broke the silence.
"Why do you want to be my friend?" he asked. "I'm not strong. One day, you'll regret it."
89 smiled. "Because when I saw you getting bullied, I saw myself. I was bullied too, but I became stronger. In this world, people only respect the strong. They don't even see the weak as human. I want to change that. I want to make a world where everyone can live in peace—without curses, without masks." His voice softened. "I lost my parents when I was born. My uncle raised me, but he only beat me and worked me to the bone. That's how I learned to endure pain."
Arjun hesitated. Then he sighed. "I was born into a family of sword assassins. They wanted me to follow their path, but I wanted to be a mage. My brothers and sisters hate me for it. My parents... They taught them that only the strong deserve to live. That weaklings like me are worthless. I can't be like them." He clenched his fists. "Everyone is different, but they don't understand. My father beats me because I refuse to be what he wants."
89 stepped closer. "Then follow your own path. Come with me. I'm going to the big city."
Arjun shook his head. "But my parents—"
"Why do you care about people who don't care about you?"
Arjun bit his lip. "That's not the problem… No matter how they treat me, I still love them. If they kill me because I failed them… I'll accept it."
89 grabbed his shoulder. "No! You don't get it. If you stay here, you'll die for nothing. But if you come with me, your future can change. One day, we'll come back—not as weaklings, but as powerful assassins. And then, they'll be the ones who regret everything."
Arjun looked into his eyes, searching for doubt—but there was none.
89 held out his hand. "Come on, bro. Let's go."
For a moment, Arjun hesitated. Then, slowly, he reached out and grasped 89's hand.
"Let's go," he whispered.
Before leaving the village, Arjun turned back one last time.
"I'll return. Stronger than ever. And I'll prove to them that I can change my own future."
With that, he and 89 ran into the night, leaving Palpa Village behind.
Back in the present, 45's body trembled.
He coughed up more blood but still smiled.
"See? I… I was never alone."
His body went limp.
89 watched in horror, shaking his head. "No… You can't give up. I know you can heal yourself!"
45's breathing grew weaker. "It's… too late now." His voice was barely a whisper. "I think… our journey ends here. But… please… keep your promise."
His vision blurred, the world around him fading.
"I'm sorry… I couldn't help you more…"
89 clutched his shoulders. "No! There has to be a way—"
But 45 closed his eyes for the last time.
His final words were a soft whisper. "Thank you… for everything."
Silence.
"45…?" 89's voice wavered. "45, open your eyes! Please!"
But he didn't move. He was gone.
A sharp pain clenched 89's chest, and his breath turned ragged. "You can't leave me alone… We made it this far!" His voice broke. "Remember your promise? You were supposed to go back… She's waiting for you…"
Tears streamed down his face.
Then—suddenly—the Shadow Spider began to dissolve into nothing.
89's eyes widened in realization.
It wasn't the monster that killed 45. It was his own final spell.
45 had known they couldn't win. So, in his last moment, he sacrificed everything—pouring all his mana into one final curse. A spell that ensured the Shadow Spider's death… at the cost of his own life.
A scream tore from 89's throat, raw with pain. He clutched 45's cold body, shaking with grief.
The battlefield fell silent.
45 was gone.
And 89 had never felt more alone.
89 was overwhelmed with emotion. His hands trembled as he picked up 45's lifeless body, carrying him back to a safe place. Gently, he laid him down, his heart aching with every movement.
Before leaving, he knelt beside him.
"I'll come back for you," he whispered. "No matter what it takes, I'll bring you home."
His voice wavered, but he forced himself to continue. "I know you never listened… but I know you can hear me now." He clenched his fists. "I will complete our promise—even if it costs me my life."
His breath hitched as he looked at 45 one last time.
"Thank you… You died for me. I swear—I'll die for you if I have to."
With that, he stood up, wiping his eyes. The grief burned inside him, but he forced himself to move forward.
He stepped into the dark hallway, his footsteps echoing in the silence.
—
On the other side, Arya entered through the massive door.
Silence.
Something felt off. A cold sensation crawled up his spine.
He wasn't alone.
Then—suddenly—dozens of red eyes appeared in the darkness.
Shadow Hounds.
They were everywhere.
Arya's breath hitched. His instincts screamed at him—these creatures weren't just watching. They were hunting.
The hounds growled, their low snarls vibrating through the air. Their hunger, their rage—it was clear.
They were coming for him.
Arya extinguished the light of his sword, plunging the surroundings into darkness. All that remained were the glowing red eyes of the Shadow Hounds, fixed on him. Fear gripped him as he moved slowly, trying to stay silent.