Raizen coughed out the dirt in his mouth, his palms stinging from how hard he'd hit the floor. His breath was a mess of ragged gasps, his arms heavy, and his vision swimming. All around him, the room vibrated with the weight of the behemoth spider staggering about.
'Remember your training. Use the environment to your advantage,' Kezess said, cool and cutting.
Raizen scoffed inwardly. "Training?" he muttered through clenched teeth. "Only damn training I ever got was from a half-crippled geezer with a busted core and bad knees."
Kezess said nothing at first.
Raizen's back pressed against a pillar, his body instinctively tensing as the spider's movements slowed. Somewhere between pain and clarity, a flicker of memory pulsed through his mind—
---
It was a lazy evening in the outer fields near the old Helios manor. Golden sunlight poured over the mossy grounds where Ricardo knelt, fiddling with a rusted sword. His face was lined with age and regret, one eye closed in permanent rest, and the other soft with a tired smile. His left hand trembled slightly whenever he tried to grip something with force—what was left of a once-great War-Adventurer.
"You're gonna swing that twig like a weapon?" Ricardo had asked, eyeing young Raizen—just ten years old then—with half-bored scrutiny.
Raizen held up the dull practice sword. "I dunno… you said this is how you learned."
"I learned by having three of my ribs broken by a swamp ogre at fourteen. You? You're gonna learn by not getting slapped stupid by me," Ricardo grinned, cracking his knuckles.
He limped forward, dragging a crude wooden staff. It looked more like a cane than a weapon, but Raizen had learned better than to underestimate him.
"Lesson one," Ricardo said, jabbing the staff forward with uncanny speed, *bonk!*ing Raizen right on the forehead. "Dungeons are liars. They lie with quiet, lie with silence, lie with the symmetry of walls. If it looks safe? It ain't."
Raizen winced, rubbing his head.
Ricardo circled him slowly. "Lesson two. Dungeons eat patterns. They learn how you breathe, how you move. Monsters inside 'em? They ain't wild. They're hungry with purpose. Like us, once."
Raizen raised his sword. "So how do you beat 'em?"
"You don't. You outlast them." Ricardo's voice turned grave. "You watch. You learn. You break the rhythm before it breaks you."
Raizen had blinked, confused.
Ricardo chuckled and plopped down on a nearby stone. "One more thing, kid. Don't trust walls. They hide more than doors."
---
Crack!
Raizen snapped back to reality just as a piece of ceiling crashed to the ground behind him. The spider's massive body twisted, its movements jerky now—half-blind with rage, half-dragging from the wounds he'd dealt earlier. A broken leg twitched spasmodically, but the beast still stood.
"I get it, Ricardo," Raizen whispered under his breath. "Don't trust the walls."
His eyes darted up—above the eastern arch, behind the decorative stonework—was a cracked support beam. Barely visible from the ground. But enough to matter.
Kezess, he thought deliberately, can it still bring the roof down?
'If you hit it hard enough. Though that depends on whether you're planning on dying underneath it too,' Kezess snorted.
"Then I'll just have to move faster."
The spider lunged again—its ten legs pounding against the floor in a chaotic charge. Raizen didn't wait. He took off, feet skidding over the crumbling granite. His chest burned from the impact wounds, but he pushed harder, zigzagging toward a nearby fallen spear lodged in the ground.
He snatched it and spun, launching it upward with the last of his strength toward the beam.
Thunk!
The spear pierced the cracked joint—but didn't break it. The spider reared, sensing movement above.
Raizen didn't hesitate. He followed the throw with a blast of raw, unrefined mana—a crude surge that flickered red, wild and unstable. The surge wasn't elegant, but it was enough.
The beam cracked—then snapped.
Chunks of stone and debris fell like thunder from the ceiling. The spider screeched, flailing, just as the avalanche of ancient architecture collapsed upon it. Its body was crushed beneath thousands of pounds of falling ruin.
Dust and rubble filled the air, clouding Raizen's vision. The boy stumbled back, coughing, shielding his eyes as the last echoes of the collapse died out.
Silence fell.
He collapsed to one knee, breath shallow.
Kezess' voice rang out with dry amusement, 'Ah yes. Nothing says finesse like bringing the house down. Quite literally.'
Raizen didn't answer. His eyes were still locked on the mound of broken stone where the spider once stood.
Slowly, he rose.
The ancient chamber—its vaulted ceilings half-collapsed, the crimson-etched pillars cracked, and the toxic smell of acid lingering in the air—stood defeated.
His legs ached, but his heart was steady. "I survived," he muttered. "I outlasted it."
'Barely. Though I suppose that does count,' Kezess replied, sounding marginally impressed. 'Perhaps old Ricardo taught you more than he thought.'
Raizen smiled faintly. "He did."
---
Location Transition: Temporary Settlement - Outer Helios Territory
Miles away, where dawn's light was just creeping over the misty hills of the Helios Marquessate's outer estate ruins, a much calmer scene unfolded. Amid the scorched remnants of noble splendor, a makeshift settlement had been erected—nothing more than tightly packed cottages built from salvaged wood, stone, and salvaged furniture.
At the heart of it stood a two-story lodge, reinforced with old sigil plates and iron hinges. Inside, a small hearth crackled weakly. Countess Viola Helios sat by the fireplace, gently rocking a nearly one-year-old Sylvia in her arms.
Ryan sat nearby, legs curled up under him, eyes red and puffy. He had cried too much the past few days to even feel it now.
"You really believe he took Marvin out of pity?" Viola asked, her tone calm but probing.
Ryan nodded slowly. "He didn't tell me… But Raizen always looked at that boy differently. Like he saw himself in him or something."
Viola's eyes flickered with doubt. "And you're certain he had no elemental affinity…? Raizen, I mean."
Ryan hesitated. "Auntie... he didn't. He never did."
Viola stared into the fire. "...Then how did he survive the manor collapse... with no mana, no spells... no backup?" Her voice was quiet, trembling on the edge of something she didn't want to voice. "How does a powerless thirteen-year-old boy escape a calamity even full-fledged mages couldn't outrun?"
Ryan didn't answer. Because he didn't know either.
And that silence—it worried them both.