"This is... extremely useful," Seth murmured, his fingers gliding gently over Bastet's head as she purred, sinking deeper into his lap like a spoiled cat. The sound was low and soothing — like distant thunder across a sky he controlled.
But his focus wasn't solely on the panther. He was watching. Feeling. Perceiving.
That ability… it wasn't just "shadow manipulation." Bastet didn't merely move darkness — she commanded an entire realm within her. A parallel dimension. A space that lived between spaces, made of absence and silence.
When she had pulled him inside to escape the hunters' detection… Seth had fallen into a place he didn't even know existed.
A world of black. But not of emptiness.
The first thing he saw was a vast, dark expanse — no real ground, no sky. Everything was made of fluid shadow and pliable density, like the place itself was breathing. An ethereal aura filled it all — alive, aware. Bastet walked through it like it was home.
Ahead, a massive translucent screen hovered, shaped like a floating lens of obsidian glass. Through it, they could see the world outside — like watching a live transmission, filtered through the eyes of the shadows.
The muffled voice of the mage echoed softly through the realm, like whispers drifting on an invisible river. She had no idea that two presences were hidden... inside her.
"Stealth..." Seth murmured, eyes narrowed in thought. "It's not just about hiding… it's about being forgotten. Invisible even to light itself."
He calmly sat down, crossing his legs in the middle of that realm of soft darkness. The panther followed with lazy elegance and latent mysticism, resting her head in his lap, eyes closed. Her colossal body seemed to partially dissolve into the shadows, as if part of her was always in sync with that world.
Seth rested his arm on his knee and looked at the screen again. The image trembled slightly, like water reflecting reality.
"Good girl," he said, not looking at Bastet, but feeling the purring vibrate through what was left of his clothing. "You really are a good girl, you know that?"
And as he said it, he thought… 'How do I even know she's female?...'
A few minutes passed, and they exited the dungeon still cloaked in the mage's shadow. The light from the surface touched the edge of the darkness… and Bastet slipped through it like silk, pulling Seth with her.
They emerged behind a row of stone pillars near the dungeon entrance — still hidden, still invisible.
Bastet left a shadow behind with a listening tether, knowing Seth would want to hear what they'd say about him.
Outside, a makeshift medical tent had been hastily assembled. Healers rushed back and forth, casting stabilization spells.
Injured hunters lay on improvised cots, and members of the British Hunters Association scribbled rapid notes on enchanted digital clipboards.
At the center of the chaos, the mage — a young woman with reddish-brown hair tied in a messy bun, cracked glasses perched on her face, her robe scorched — gestured animatedly while speaking to a man in a dark overcoat bearing the association's insignia.
"I already told you! He just appeared! A man… shirtless, covered in dry blood and sand, with a look like… like he'd just walked out of a war nightmare!"
The agent furrowed his brow, clearly unimpressed. "Was he part of your party?"
"No! I didn't know him! He just appeared in the middle of the fight, looked at the golem, sent a shadow panther at it, and when the monster knelt... he smacked its head like it was a broken toy and— POOF!"
She snapped her fingers in frustration.
"Poof," the agent repeated flatly, unconvinced. "And you expect us to believe that?"
"It's not just her." A deep voice echoed from the side. The tank, his arm bandaged and shoulder splinted, staggered over. "I saw it too."
Then another: "Me too."
And another. And another. Until all seven surviving hunters from the group stood there, confirming the mage's story. All wearing the same expression. Exhausted. Confused. But certain.
The association agent looked at the group, then back at his clipboard. He wrote something slowly with an auto-transcription spell. "Matching descriptions. No known magic signature... No recorded entry... This is... impossible."
Behind the pillars, cloaked in the living penumbra of shadow, Seth watched the scene in silence.
He was seated again, one leg bent with his elbow resting casually on his knee, watching it all like someone observing a play they already knew by heart. Bastet lay beside him, eyes half-lidded, tail swaying in a lazy rhythm.
"Shirtless, huh?" he muttered, a crooked grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
He heard the mage raise her voice again:
"Do you really think I'd make this up? The man vanished after destroying the boss! He… he didn't even breathe like a normal person! It was like the desert itself came to kill that golem!"
Seth couldn't help it — a quiet chuckle slipped out.
Bastet opened one eye and let out a soft purr, as if to say, "You draw too much attention."
"Oh, don't blame me," Seth replied with a smirk. "How could I not draw attention after being dropped into a Dungeon out of nowhere?" Then he blinked. "Wait... Did I just understand what you meant?"
Bastet slowly lifted her head, her amber eyes locking onto his. For a moment, Seth felt that strange pressure at the back of his neck — like something was about to click into place.
The panther didn't open her mouth. She made no sound. But a subtle vibration echoed in his mind...
"You understand now?"
Seth froze.
"...That was… You spoke. In my head."
Bastet merely blinked, her tail swaying once with precise feline grace.
"Not always. Only when I want to. And you don't stop talking to yourself. It was getting annoying."
Seth's eyes widened, then he slapped a hand over his mouth and broke into silent laughter.
"So… on top of saving me with a shadow dimension, dominating a golem, and hiding me from an entire guild… you also talk, but only when you're bored?"
"Yes."
"Shhh… I want to rest."
Bastet yawned widely, stretching before resting her head in Seth's lap again, as if the world outside were nothing more than mild background noise.
Outside, the commotion continued. The debate between the hunters and the association agent carried on, while the event was being officially logged as:
"Unidentified Phenomenon Event – Class Unknown."
Seth leaned further into the shadowed wall behind him, arms crossed, a lazy smile dancing on his lips.
"Let's go—"
He didn't get to finish the thought.
Hurried footsteps echoed through the corridor. A man appeared, running full speed, visibly exhausted — panting like he'd just battled a staircase army. He rounded the pillar and collapsed in front of the man in the overcoat, who didn't turn — just raised an eyebrow.
"Ah... s-sir... ah~... Division Chief..." the man wheezed, barely able to speak.
The mage — the same one who'd described Seth earlier — lifted her staff with a sigh and murmured a spell. A soft green light enveloped the messenger, calming his breath in seconds.
"Thank you..." he said, regaining composure. Then he bowed deeply before the man in the coat. "Division Chief Alexander Ghuthar... we have a situation. Class-S."
Alexander finally turned, eyes narrowing behind the dark lenses of his glasses.
"What exactly happened?" he asked, his voice deep — like thunder held on a leash.
The messenger swallowed hard. "Two presences… identified by arcane sensors… are about to collide near the London Bridge perimeter. Direct conflict."
Alexander raised an eyebrow.
"Who?" The silence hung heavy for a second before the man finally spoke, voice barely above a whisper:
"Connie Parker... and Vixen Rose."
The air froze.
One of the hunters dropped his staff. Another cursed under his breath.
Even Seth, hidden in the shadow realm with Bastet, looked up and let out a long sigh.
"I knew this was going to happen…" he muttered.
He didn't have a watch, but he could feel it — too much time had passed since he'd entered the Punishment Dungeon.
[Near London Bridge – Black Rose Headquarters]
The sky over London was darkening in an unnatural way, as if the heavens themselves sensed the calamity brewing below.
Winds whipped through the streets with growing ferocity, and the very air seemed to vibrate with tension.
In the center of the square in front of Black Rose HQ, two figures faced off like colliding storms.
"How many times do I have to say this?!" Vixen's voice rang out, laced with fury — each word dripping with emotional venom.
She stepped forward, the sharp click of her heel slamming against the stone ground. Her finger jabbed into Connie's chest with force.
"I didn't do anything! He let me go, okay?! I was only there because I wanted a date with a man who could actually handle himself!"
The aura around Vixen flared like a poisonous mist — seductive, deadly, and cloyingly sweet. It shimmered with undertones of death, intoxicating in its elegance and danger.
Connie didn't respond right away.
She just took a single, deep breath — long, slow — and then opened her eyes.
They weren't blue anymore.
They burned. Red. Demonic.
Lightning slithered across her skin, crackling like the atmosphere itself was trying to break free from her body. But it wasn't the usual blue lightning Connie was known for.
It was red. Blood-red. Fueled by fury.
Like thunder forged in hellfire.
Like a storm with no room for forgiveness.
"You had two hours." Her voice wasn't loud — but each word struck like a heated blade, slicing through the tension in the air.
"I made it very clear… that if he didn't come back…"
The ground beneath her feet began to crack, stone tiles fracturing in a widening web.Nearby buildings lit up with magical alarms. Arcane warnings blinked in pulses of purple and amber.
"…I would erase you."