The two unconscious bodies of Fugo and Renjiro lay motionless on the cold, unforgiving floor of the Spire.
Around them, the shadows seemed to grow longer, and the creatures that filled the darkness began to stir.
Bats fluttered in the corners, their wings a faint echo in the silence.
Killer rabbits hopped closer, their eyes glowing with malevolent intent.
Closer were wolf-like creatures padded on silent paws, and venomous spiders skittered across the stone, all glaring at the humans face down on the floor.
The wolf from earlier ran off and hid from the other monsters, possibly frightened by their sheer quantity.
A low growl echoed from the far side as a new figure emerged from the shadows—a monstrous creature, with a long, twisted neck and two oversized fangs.
It hissed with its teeth, glistening in the dim light, as it drew near the helpless adventurers.
The creatures were no strangers to death, and neither Fugo nor Renjiro could defend themselves.
Suddenly, a sharp sound broke through the chaos—the unmistakable sound of clapping.
CLAP! CLAP! CLAP!
The creatures paused, turning toward the source of the noise. The figure that emerged was tall man with bright red hair.
Xavier Foster, an experienced adventurer sent by Clara to ensure Team FRIK's survival, stepped into view. His expression was unbothered, but there was a certain authority in his presence.
"Hold on a minute, those two are with me," Xavier called out.
The monsters hesitated after seeing Xavier.
The man moved closer, casually ignoring all the monsters he walked past on his way to the bodies up ahead.
As he moved closer, Xavier began to check their appearance and injuries.
"Wicked!"
"Hmm, orange hair, black hair, must be these guys. Wow, Clara was right on the money. How did these two even make it to the eighth floor?" Xavier rambled to himself.
Xavier went in his pocket, where he took out a ball and threw it harshly to the ground. The ball bursts, filling the whole area in purple smoke.
The smoke burned as it filled the air, searing the eyes of every creature within range.
The monsters screeched in agony, clawing at their faces as their eyes burned with the intensity of the mist. Xavier, unaffected by the chaos around him, pulled out an item that caught the light in a way nothing else had.
A gun.
Many adventurers used a bow and arrow because it was easier to channel mana through those. Guns were not made with magic cores inside of them, making it even harder to infuse mana into them. This caused bow and arrows to be more popular with those able to perform magic or utilize their mana efficiently.
The power of a mana-infused bow was stronger than a simple gun.
But what would happen if someone were to do the impossible?
Channel their mana into a plain old revolver?
POW! POW! POW!
Each shot instantly killed its target, sending their heads flying off their necks.
POW! POW!
A perfect headshot for every monster in sight. They crumpled to the ground in a heap, their lives snuffed out in an instant. The power of the weapon was undeniable.
The floor was now clear, and Xavier hardly seemed to break a sweat.
He stepped forward, kneeling beside the unconscious adventurers.
"The fact that these two are still alive is a miracle," he said, checking their injuries closely.
He determined that a normal doctor would not be able to save them, their injuries had gone passed that luxury for time.
As he lifted both bodies carefully, his eyes caught a flash of something nearby—something sparkling amidst the remains of the creatures. He bent down, his hand brushing the ground, revealing a rare diamond that gleamed like a star in the darkness.
Xavier recognized it immediately—a Chimera drop. He smirked, picking it up carefully.
"Hmm, did these rookies take down a Chimera?" he mused aloud, a note of amusement in his voice.
"Well, if that's true, they've earned their rest."
With a light chuckle, Xavier lifted both Fugo and Renjiro onto his shoulders, their unconscious bodies surprisingly light to him.
"Heh, good work, you two. Now, let's get you out of here."
As he made his way toward the Tower's exit, Xavier encountered the rest of his team—Kael and Irene—on the sixth floor, frantically searching for their missing comrades.
Their faces lit up with relief at the sight of Xavier, and the sight of Fugo and Renjiro's injured forms only deepened their concern.
Irene recognized Xavier's face as a normal customer at his mother's shop.
"Xavier?" she said, surprised.
"Where did you find them?"
"On the eighth floor, they're alive, just unconscious. They'll need immediate medical attention, so make haste."
"We'll head back to the guild, get them patched up."
Irene rushed forward, her eyes scanning Fugo and Renjiro's wounds with a look of quiet concern.
"I thought we'd lost them for good," she muttered, relieved but still visibly shaken.
"We're not out of the woods yet, but they'll be fine," Xavier reassured her."
With the team reunited, they all left the Tower together, Fugo and Renjiro carried between them.
The dangers of the Tower were real, but with the strength of experienced adventurers like Xavier guiding them, they had a fighting chance to make it out alive.
A few minutes later....
The sun had just begun its descent when Xavier strode into the Adventurer's Guild. Draped over his shoulders were the unconscious bodies of Fugo and Renjiro. Behind him followed Kael and Irene.
Kael's legs were on the verge of collapsing while Irene's eyes were beginning to fight sleep.
Xavier's voice boomed across the hall as he stepped inside. " CLARA! I'm back! And I brought your friends!"
His announcement drew the attention of everyone in the bustling guild.
Conversations halted, and dozens of curious eyes turned toward the rookie adventurers, who looked as though they'd been through hell.
A woman clad in a flowing blue robe, her long hair matching its azure hue, hurried forward. In her hand, she carried a staff crowned with a crystal orb.
Her expression was one of alarm as she assessed the injured group.
"What happened? Are they alive?" she demanded, her voice tight with concern.
Xavier gave a sharp nod. "Yeah, but they need help—fast. Can you handle it, Trisha?"
The healer sighed, already motioning for him to lay the bodies on the floor.
"Lucky for you, I'm here today," she muttered. Known as one of the few Expert-Ranked healers in Loria City, Trisha's reputation as a master healer was uncontested.
She was a part of the Yoh Familia, therefore already making her an exceptional individual.
"Put them down quickly," Trisha instructed.
Xavier did as told, gently lowering Fugo and Renjiro onto the polished wooden floor. She glanced at Kael, who was swaying where he stood, barely
conscious.
"You too. Rest before you drop,"
Kael did not respond, his body was too far gone. Irene had to guide him down until he was lying next to the others.
With the three adventurers laid out, Trisha raised her staff.
The crystal orb atop it is glowing faintly. "This will cost you," she warned Xavier, her tone half-joking.
"Take it up with Clara, not me."
As if on cue, Clara, the guild clerk, rushed into the room. Her face was pale while her eyes were wide with worry.
"They were attacked..."
"Yep"
"Good thing I showed up when I did. Otherwise, you'd have more than tears to deal with." Xavier's words were blunt, but his tone carried an undercurrent of reassurance.
Clara's sorrowful expression softened into one of gratitude as Trisha began her healing ritual.
Raising her staff, she whispered an incantation. The crystal orb flared to life, emitting a vibrant green smoke that poured forth in wisps, coiling around the injured trio.
The room fell silent as adventurers gathered to watch, their eyes wide with curiosity.
The green smoke moved with purpose, seeping into wounds and fractures. As it worked, Irene leaned closer to Xavier, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Is she healing them?"
Xavier nodded, his confidence unshaken. "She is. But it's not healing in the way you're thinking. Watch closely."
Irene turned her attention back to the smoke. She noticed that the claw marks on Fugo's chest were vanishing, but something peculiar caught her eye.
As the wounds closed, small bumps formed in their place before smoothing out completely. It was as though the injuries had never existed. Her eyes widened in realization.
"She's... rewinding their bodies,"
"Sharp eye."
"That's exactly it. Trisha's magic doesn't heal wounds so much as restore the body to a state it was in during the last hour. It's a tricky ability, and it drains her mana like crazy, but it's damn effective."
Irene stared at Trisha in awe. The healer's calm demeanor and precision were mesmerizing. She thought to herself that this woman might be the most invaluable ally she'd ever seen.
Moments later, the green smoke dissipated, leaving the trio on the floor breathing steadily.
Renjiro's eyes fluttered open first, his gaze darting around in confusion.
"The guild?" he murmured.
Fugo sat up next, only to find himself wrapped in a crushing embrace. Clara had thrown herself at him, tears streaming down her face.
"Thank goodness you're safe!"
Fugo's cheeks turned red, awkwardly patting her on the back as a means of comfort.
"Uh, Clara, please let go." His plea only served to intensify the glares from the surrounding male adventurers, none of them bothered hiding their envious expressions in the slightest.
Kael sat up last, rubbing his temples before addressing Clara.
"Miss Clara, we need to report. My team encountered two unknown monsters on the fourth floor. We managed to kill them, but..."
He gestured toward the quest board.
"Were those... Chimeras?"
Xavier chuckled. "You bet. And not just two." He pointed at Fugo and Renjiro.
"These two faced one on the eighth floor."
The guild erupted into chaos. Adventurers shouted in disbelief, their protests ringing out.
"No way!"
"Rookies like them taking on Chimeras?"
Xavier smirked, enjoying the outrage. "Not only did they face them, they survived and won." He reached into his pocket, pulling out a shard that gleamed like a diamond. "This is proof."
Kael followed suit, revealing the shards he'd collected.
The room went silent as the adventurers stared, their envy palpable.
Irene stepped forward, her eyes fixed on the shards. She bowed deeply.
"Please, Kael, Xavier, don't sell them. I need those shards."
Fugo frowned. "Why? What do you need them for?"
Irene's voice was steady but earnest. "They're incredible crafting materials."
"With them, I can prove my worth to the team. I... I don't want to be replaced. I know I'm not much help in battle, but I want to contribute. Please, give me the chance to be useful."
"You're still on about that?" Kael sighed.
Fugo chuckled along, "You already are, you silly girl. Without you, I'd be holding the team back myself."
"Take them... We'll just get more later."
Irene clutched the shards to her chest, her gratitude shone in her eyes. But not everyone shared her joy.
The envious adventurers in the crowd muttered darkly, planning something devious for Irene.
"See that?" one man whispered.
"That poor girl, she's got a lot of nerve..."
Later that night, Irene walked home alone.
The streets were still lively, filled with chatter and the hum of a city settling into its evening rhythm. Lanterns flickered, their warm light spilling across cobblestones, and the air carried the faint scent of roasting chestnuts from a nearby vendor.
Irene felt secure amidst the bustle, her mind preoccupied with the day's events.
"I'm so glad, everyone survived."
But then, a chill ran down her spine.
Her steps faltered as she glanced over her shoulder, scanning the moving crowd. There was no one out of place, no lingering figure to suspect.
She shook her head, then forced a nervous smile. "I'm imagining things."
The farther she walked, the less crowded the streets became. Shops had closed for the night, and the noise of the city faded into a distant murmur. Her unease returned, stronger this time.
Then it happened again—a faint but deliberate sound.
Footsteps, just out of sync with her own.
Irene's heart began to race.
She turned abruptly into a side street, the path home shorter through this quiet alley. But the moment she did, the sound of hurried footsteps grew louder, closer.
"No!"
She spun around, panic in her eyes. Figures of men emerged from the shadows, masked up. They moved with practiced precision, cutting off her retreat.
One grabbed her shoulder roughly.
"The shards," a man growled.
"Hand them over!"
Irene instinctively clutched at her chest, where the shards were hidden beneath her tunic.
"No!"
Those shards were her hope. Now more than ever, she wanted to ensure today's events never happened again.
Today, when her blade snapped, right in front of a powerful enemy.
That moment scarred her, and Irene will not feel better from that scar until she surpasses that creation. Who knows, even then she might not be satisfied.
Her defiance was met with immediate violence. A hand struck her across the face.
She stumbled but didn't fall, her legs buckling as she clung to the wall for support.
"Search her!"
When she resisted, they shoved her to the ground. Kicks followed—sharp, brutal impacts to her ribs, her stomach, her legs. Her cries were muffled by the sound of their boots.
One man grabbed her by the hair, forcing her face up, his mask mere inches from her battered expression.
"This could've been easy," said the man, before slamming her head against the ground.
Dazed and bloodied, Irene's vision blurred. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth as they rifled through her belongings. Hands tore at her tunic, pulling free the pouch containing the shards.
"Got them. Let's go," one of the men ordered.
The group disappeared into the darkness, leaving Irene crumpled in the alley. She lay still, her breaths shallow and labored. Her thoughts drifted to her companions—Kael, Fugo, and Renjiro.
She had fought so hard to prove her worth to them, to keep up, to belong.
Now, stripped of the shards and her strength, all she could do was whisper through the pain.
"I'm sorry."
The words hung in the cold air, unanswered and unheard.
Tears slipped silently from her closed eyes, tracing paths through the grime and blood on her cheeks. As the darkness crept in, Irene's last thought was a quiet plea—for forgiveness, for strength, for another chance.
And then, there was nothing.