Jacob stared down at the two figures lying amidst the rubble and dust, a faint trace of surprise crossing his expression. He had been inside this site for several days now, long enough to assume that everyone who entered before him was already dead. The corridors had been littered with corpses, torn and twisted, left to decay where they fell, and he had seen enough of them to be certain no one else had survived.

He couldn't quite bring himself to blame them for coming in before him; if anything, he understood the impulse. What irritated him, though, was that they had gone on ahead without waiting, only to die, or so he had believed.

He had been assigned to protect Mathew, yet when he found the remnants of their group scattered across the floors, he could only assume the worst. For days he'd been wondering how he would explain himself when the time came.

And now, against all reason, Mathew was alive. Not only him, but Joey too, someone Jacob had never expected to see in a place like this. He remembered the boy vaguely, more out of the sharp precision of his own memory than anything else; one of those who had spoken too freely about the gods, whose faith had made him seem fragile in a world like theirs. Jacob had long since assumed he was dead. Yet there he was, pale and bruised, but alive.

If he hadn't arrived at that exact moment, they would have been corpses like the rest.

Jacob let out a slow sigh and extended a hand toward Mathew, who was still struggling to get up. But Mathew only glared at him, pushing the hand aside and forcing himself upright, grimacing as he shifted his weight onto what was clearly a twisted ankle. His silence said enough; the anger in his eyes was plain.

Jacob rubbed at the back of his neck and finally spoke, his voice even but tired. "Look… I'm sorry I was late, but it wasn't something I could control."

And it was true. He hadn't meant to disappear. After Lazarus's manipulation of time had ended, he had found himself caught in a strange state, something like enlightenment, though the word barely did it justice.

Days had passed in a haze of quiet realization and experimentation, his mind locked entirely on the things he had discovered. He hadn't even noticed how much time had gone by until it was over.

It hadn't been neglect. It had simply been… beyond his control.

In truth, that period of isolation had granted Jacob an understanding of power that went beyond anything he had thought possible for someone at rank ten. Before entering the site, he had entertained the somewhat arrogant notion that he could hold his own against a rank nine, perhaps not win, but at least fight evenly. That illusion had been broken the instant he stepped inside.

Unlike Mathew, Jacob had felt it the moment he crossed the threshold, the vast, suffocating presence of a rank nine being lurking somewhere deep within the site. The pressure it exuded had been enough to strip him of every trace of confidence. It was overwhelming, immeasurable, the kind of power that left no room for delusions.

He realized then that the peak of rank nine was not something he could even approach, not with effort, not with cleverness, not even with every advantage he possessed. If he were to face that being, he would die, and he knew it as plainly as he knew his own name.

So if Mathew and Joey were still alive, it was not by luck, but because the creature simply allowed it. That was the only explanation that made sense.

Fortunately, the same sensitivity that let him feel its power also allowed him to stay well away from it. From what he had gathered, the being possessed immense strength but little intelligence, it was more instinct than thought, a natural disaster wearing the shape of something living. Even now, as they stood there, he could sense that oppressive aura drawing closer, crawling toward them at a steady, deliberate pace.

That was why he wanted to leave as soon as possible. But Mathew, had other priorities.

"You… you came late," Mathew said, voice tight with anger, "and not just that, you stole every battle on the way here."

Jacob blinked at him, caught between amusement and disbelief. From the tone of Mathew's voice, it was clear his irritation lay more in losing the chance to fight than in Jacob's supposed negligence. He nearly laughed but restrained himself, shaking his head instead.

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"Mathew, listen," he said, his tone calm but urgent, "a rank nine being is coming this way. It'll reach us in five minutes at most. I can get us out of here, but you need to decide, are you staying here, or coming with me?"

The words silenced Mathew, though the anger didn't entirely leave his eyes. Joey, on the other hand, reacted instantly, he stiffened, turned toward Jacob, and spoke with a clarity that left no room for argument.

"I'll follow you," he said firmly, "just make sure we don't meet that monster."

Mathew's thoughts, however, were entirely different. "I'll forgive you," he said with a hint of forced generosity, "so let's all stay and kill that thing."

His reasoning was simple, when he had faced the creature before, he had stood no chance of winning, true, but he had managed to wound it, and if there were three of them now, surely that would be enough. Three people working together could overcome almost anything, or so he believed.

It was the kind of thinking born from ignorance rather than courage, the sort of confidence that came from being unable to sense the full, crushing depth of the enemy's power and compare it honestly to one's own. It was impatience and stubbornness disguised as bravery, two traits Jacob had long since shed.

"We're going," Jacob said flatly. He had phrased it like a choice earlier, but in truth there was no choice to be made. He couldn't allow Mathew to die, not when he was under his protection, and Joey, well Joey could decide for himself, though Jacob doubted he would stay behind.

Before Mathew could argue, Jacob flicked his finger, a single command forming clearly in his mind.

'Capture.'

A rune flared beneath his feet, glowing bright orange for a moment before several chains of fire burst forth from it. Unlike the earlier ones that had been designed for battle, these were blunt and rounded, built to restrain rather than pierce. They shot toward Mathew, wrapping around his limbs before he could even move, slamming him to the ground and holding him fast.

Jacob walked over to Joey, lifted him easily, and hoisted him onto his shoulder. Then, without a word, he grasped one of the fiery chains binding Mathew and began to walk forward, dragging the bound man behind him with steady, unhurried steps.

Mathew tried to shout, but the chains reacted instantly, another tendril of flame coiling upward to seal his mouth, turning into something like a gag. Oddly, the fire didn't burn him, it was hot, certainly, but not enough to cause pain.

Mathew, consumed by his anger and helplessness, was in no state to appreciate this, but Joey noticed. His mind, even in exhaustion, was sharp enough to recognize what he was seeing.

To summon flames was one thing. To shape them with such precision was another. But to command them so swiftly and perfectly, to alter their nature so that they could restrain without burning, that required control of an extraordinary degree, the kind that came only from years of practice and relentless refinement.

Jacob had become a mage around the same time as Joey, barely a year and a few months ago, and for a while, he had even wasted time dabbling in the sword. Yet somehow, that diversion had only strengthened him, as if every mistake he made turned to progress instead of loss. The truth was, they had started together, and though Joey had always thought himself as talented, Jacob had advanced at a pace that was simply unnatural.

Joey, despite his handicap, was no ordinary mage. His mana aspect was the lowest possible, he was hated by mana itself, yet even with that curse he had managed to climb higher than most could dream of.

But what Jacob had just done, summoning flames that obeyed his will with such precision, bending them into physical, controlled forms without harm was something even he would never have dared to attempt.

'Jacob Skydrid really is talented, huh?' Joey thought to himself, a small mix of admiration and disbelief settling in his chest.

Jacob, of course, had no idea what Joey was thinking, but even if he did, it wouldn't have mattered to him. He understood perfectly well the magnitude of what he had done, but it didn't strike him as remarkable. He simply didn't care to be impressed by himself anymore.

He had long accepted what he was, a person apart. Not arrogant, just aware. He possessed a grade one mana aspect, the kind directly connected to the True Runes themselves. He could channel his will into power without gestures or chants, wielded both sword and spell with frightening efficiency, possessed an enhanced mind that absorbed knowledge at a staggering rate, and bore the legacy of Yggdrasil's guidance alongside the bloodline of a great family.

There was no point pretending he was ordinary. His strength, his growth, even his failures, they were all built on a foundation far beyond what others could ever reach. He had to move forward with that understanding, to take his abilities not as gifts but as responsibilities, to climb higher with every step and never, ever settle for what he had. Because even now, even with all that he was, Jacob doubted he was the strongest rank ten in existence.

Was that his goal? No. His goal was to ascend, to cross that threshold as soon as possible. But to him, that goal carried an unspoken truth: before he ascended, and even after, there was still so much room to grow. Growth wasn't a desire anymore. It was necessity.

Meanwhile, Mathew was consumed by a far simpler line of thought, rage. Every step he took behind Jacob only made him angrier. He couldn't shout, couldn't argue, couldn't even move properly, so he did the only thing left to him, he planned. Planned the day he would pay Jacob back for this humiliation. He wouldn't dare harm him, of course, but revenge didn't always have to mean death.

And so, with those silent thoughts, Joey's quiet admiration, Jacob's relentless self-acceptance, and Mathew's simmering resentment, the three of them moved steadily through the ruins, fleeing from the monster that hunted them.

They didn't know it yet, but now that they were all together, every living person in the site gathered in one place, their escape was already over. They could run, but not for long.

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