The training grew more intense as time slipped away unnoticed, the golden hues of daylight fading into the abyss of night. Darkness crept in, casting long shadows across the battered training field, now marred with cracks and indentations, each scar in the earth a silent testament to the ferocity of their clashes.

Karl, Kola, Lunara, and Theodric stood in various states of exhaustion, their bodies drenched in sweat, their breaths ragged and uneven. Some struggled to stay upright, swaying on trembling legs, while others knelt, palms pressed against the shattered ground in a desperate attempt to steady themselves.

Across from them stood Nyxander, unwavering, an imposing figure amid the chaos. Aside from the dust clinging to his clothes, mere remnants of the brutal exchange, he appeared untouched, as if he had danced through the battle unscathed. His piercing gaze bore into them, unreadable yet commanding.

"He really has such a monstrous level of stamina, befitting of our Boss," Theodric muttered, barely above a whisper. Kola, teetering on the edge of consciousness, caught his words and turned his head slightly, a faint smile curving his lips.

"So even someone as arrogant as you knows when to acknowledge strength," Kola mused, shifting his gaze back to Nyxander.

"I'm not arrogant," Theodric huffed, the remnants of pride lacing his tone. "I just never saw anyone worthy of my respect before. And seeing one now is even more annoying."

A deep, resonant voice sliced through the weighty silence, shattering the tension like a hammer against glass.

"It seems you're all at your limit," Nyxander observed, his voice carrying an undeniable pull, like a lodestone drawing weary metal to its core. Even though their bodies begged for respite, his words commanded their attention.

"Let's take a break." At those words, the four warriors collapsed onto their backs, surrendering to the exhaustion that clawed at them. The cracked ground, though far from comfortable, felt like a bed of clouds beneath their aching limbs.

"And come inside. There's something else to do."

Nyxander turned and disappeared into the old building without waiting for a response.

"Guys," Lunara's voice drifted lazily through the air, her head resting on the worm, fractured earth. "Hmm?" the others hummed in unison, too drained to form proper words. "What is it?" Theodric grumbled.

"Do you all not notice it? Or are you pretending not to?" Her question hung between them like an unspoken truth. She tilted her head toward Karl. "Or am I just imagining things?"

Karl exhaled, the weight of understanding settling over him. "Not at all. If you're talking about why the people around us act as if they don't see what's happening, then no, you're not imagining it. We've spent enough time with him, however little, to know that we should expect anything from him."

Lunara closed her eyes for a moment, contemplating his words, while Kola and Theodric remained still, the revelation settling over them like an unseen mist.

Karl pushed himself up, dusting off his clothes. "I'm going in. Don't take too long, Boss is waiting." With that, he strode toward the building, disappearing into the dimly lit entrance, leaving the others to gather their strength and follow.

"I understand how such a thought may be hard to digest, almost too shocking to accept. The first time I met Boss, he handed me a few coins and casually told me where to find their rightful owner, someone who had hidden themselves deep within their own restaurant. That day, I realized something. Either he had reached the godhood realm or, at the very least, was treading the threshold of a false god," Kola said as he rose to his feet, his voice laced with reminiscence.

"Every one of us has felt something inexplicable the day we met him," Theodric added, brushing the dust from his sleeves before stepping beside Kola. "Think back to those moments."

Lunara exhaled softly, a smile curving her lips as she stretched out her hands. Without hesitation, Kola and Theodric each took one, their grips firm as they pulled her up. Without another word, the three of them stepped toward the old building, its weathered wooden doors groaning slightly as they pushed them open.

A few minutes passed after they entered, just enough for their breaths to steady and their strength to return. They now stood across from a sturdy, timeworn table, their gazes fixed on the man before them. On the other side, Nyxander sat, reclining lazily in a wooden chair, his expression unreadable. Then, in one swift motion, he reached into his pocket and retrieved five small vials. With deliberate intent, he placed four on the table while shoving the fifth one back into his coat.

"Take one each and swallow the contents," Nyxander broke the silence, his voice calm yet unwavering.

"Huh? But, Boss... what's inside?" Karl asked, his brows knitting together as his eyes remained glued to the glass vials, as if trying to decipher the unknown swirling within them.

"It's a liquid capsule I created," Nyxander replied nonchalantly.

"You made it?" Theodric's voice carried the doubt that all of them were silently harboring. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple. "But... is it really safe?"

Nyxander's lips curled into the faintest smirk. "I haven't tested it before," he admitted, his words sending an icy shiver through the room. "But remember this, there is no gain without risk."

A thick tension descended upon them, heavy like a storm cloud before the first crack of thunder.

Karl exhaled sharply and, in a decisive motion, stretched his hand forward, grasping one of the vials. He brought it close to his mouth, but before he could open it, Nyxander spoke again.

"A quick reminder," he said, his tone carrying a hint of amusement. "The moment you unseal it, drink immediately. The liquid diffuses into gas if exposed to air for too long."

Karl's throat bobbed in a dry gulp. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he popped the vial open and downed its contents in one swift motion. The others held their breath, their eyes locked on him as if waiting for an explosion.

Moments passed, but nothing. Relief flickered across their faces before they each reached forward, grabbing a vial of their own. One by one, they opened them and swallowed without hesitation.

It was as if the liquid inside the vial possessed a will of its own, whispering its ominous intent, awaiting those who dared consume it. The moment it entered their bodies, it struck with unrelenting force, seizing them from within like a storm claiming the sky.

Karl was the first to succumb. His body convulsed violently as though his very blood had turned into molten lava, surging in a frenzied tide through his veins. A web of bulging vessels crawled across his skin, first etching grotesque patterns over his forehead before spreading like wildfire down his arms, chest, and legs. His limbs betrayed him, locking up as he collapsed, a scream tearing through his throat, raw, guttural, and desperate.

The others exchanged alarmed glances, stepping toward him with concern, but their words never reached him. Karl was lost, cut off from the world, his senses drowned in a tempest of agony. His eyes, once sharp with resolve, now saw nothing. His ears, once attuned to the voices of his comrades, heard only the deafening silence of oblivion.

And then, it happened.

One by one, they too fell, writhing, convulsing, drowning in the same torment that had overtaken Karl. From their mouths, ears, and noses, an inky-black fluid oozed, thick and viscous, reeking of decay. It clung to their skin like the remnants of a nightmare made manifest.

Nyxander stood still, watching as the twisted ritual unfolded before him, his expression unreadable. A quiet sigh slipped past his lips. "Maybe I shouldn't have given it to them," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

A chuckle, dry and knowing, slithered through the air. "Stop blaming yourself when they're still breathing," came the voice of Nullpoint, forming like a phantom upon Nyxander's left shoulder, its ethereal body a shifting tapestry of shadows. "You knew this would happen the moment you let them taste a drop of your blood."

Nyxander exhaled, his fingers tightening into fists. "I expected a reaction," he admitted, his gaze locked on their writhing bodies, "but not this… not at this level."

For nearly two hours, the ordeal continued, a relentless battle between their mortal shells and the power invading them. And then, at last, the struggle ended. Their bodies stilled, unconscious yet alive, transformed in ways only time would reveal.

Nyxander moved without hesitation, lifting them one by one, placing them carefully against the worn stone walls of the building. As he stepped back, his boots sank into the thick, tar-like fluid they had expelled. The pungent stench coiled around him, suffocating in its putridity.

A deep breath. A slow exhale.

"Hah… finally, everything has come to rest." His voice was low, almost contemplative. "Luckily, I haven't lifted the Void Lock... or else this would have been a problem."

And with that, silence reclaimed the room, leaving only the thick scent of pungent smell and faint odor of blood lingering in the air.

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