After that both heartfelt and oddly-timed scene, the two of them found themselves standing at the gates of Raven's mansion.
And how they got there? Well, Raven had picked up Aren without a word—cradling him like a ragdoll—and dashed across rooftops with agile leaps that defied gravity. She moved like a shadow dancing on concrete, a blur of precision and raw power.
From Aren's shabby apartment to the high-security district of the city, she moved with such terrifying speed that even high-end surveillance drones couldn't keep up.
What awaited them was a massive estate, wrapped in high concrete walls and lined with security towers like a fortress. The iron gates opened without resistance, controlled by biometric scan—one that barely had time to complete before Raven darted through it like a gust of wind.
A mansion like this wasn't something just anyone could earn. It was the kind of home only the most elite Hunters could afford—those who stood at the apex of national power. Raven wasn't a global titan yet, but on the national scale, she was a juggernaut.
Even so, she wasn't untouchable. By the time they reached the mansion, a stream of paparazzi and drones had already started to gather like vultures circling a fresh kill. But Raven was faster. Much faster.
She burst through the gates and into the mansion with such seamless velocity that not a single photo was snapped. Not even the news drones got a decent lock on her.
Inside, Aren blinked, taking in the sudden shift in atmosphere. His jaw dropped slightly as he gazed around.
"Woah… this place is huge," he said, his voice filled with genuine awe. Ornate chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting soft golden light over the polished black marble floors.
The decor was a blend of high-tech sleek and hunter-guild elegance—priceless art on the walls, reinforced alloy doors, and subtle defense runes humming in the corners. It was another universe compared to his cramped, rundown shoebox of an apartment, where rats paid rent in chewing wires.
Meanwhile, Raven stood still, pressing both palms against her face, dragging them down in a groan as if trying to physically scrape the mental chaos out of her brain.
She inhaled slowly.
She needed to focus. She couldn't spiral now. There was too much riding on this.
The only way forward was growth—and not just her own. Aren had to grow too. She didn't know how, or how fast, but she'd make it work.
"Okay! Enough admiration!" she suddenly declared, clapping her hands once with enough force to echo through the hall. Her voice cut through the air like a war cry. She grabbed Aren's hand without waiting for a response, her grip firm and strangely warm.
"Huh? You're gonna have me read?" Aren joked, eyeing the massive wall of books she was dragging him toward.
"No, idiot," she shot back with a dry glare. Then, with practiced ease, she reached out and tugged on one of the books—it looked like a random fantasy novel at first glance.
But the moment she pulled it, a mechanical click echoed through the room.
The entire bookshelf trembled slightly before groaning open like a secret door straight out of a spy film.
A hidden passage.
Lit by small, evenly-spaced white bulbs embedded into the wall, a winding staircase descended into the depths of the mansion.
Aren's eyes sparkled faintly with curiosity.
As they made their way down, the air grew cooler. More focused. The noise of the world above faded into silence, replaced by a strange serenity—one meant for discipline, effort, and strength.
At the bottom was a massive underground training room.
No, calling it a room was a disservice.
It was a chamber—built to withstand monsters, explosions, even small-scale wars. The walls were reinforced with layers of energy-absorbing steel, thick enough to tank a direct shell blast from military-grade tanks.
Weapons of all shapes and sizes lined racks along the far wall. Swords, staves, bows, exotic tech. There were armor stands categorized by class—light scout, heavy knight, spellweaver—each polished and clearly used, but well-maintained.
Shelves were lined with radiant energy stones, glowing with soft pulses of red, blue, and gold.
These weren't training props.
They were real.
Aren felt her let go of his hand as she darted off toward a cluttered set of drawers in the corner, rummaging around with a flurry of muttered curses. Judging by the mess, she hadn't organized that thing in weeks.
Aren, meanwhile, was drawn to one of the glowing stones nearby. His fingers hovered over the shelf for a moment before he picked one up—the weakest one he could find.
A small, cloudy gem, dull compared to the rest.
"What are these strange rocks…?" he murmured, the faint hum of power tingling in his fingers.
He tapped into the residual memories from this body—probing for instinctive recognition.
'So these stones help strengthen you the same way killing monsters would?'
'Nifty.'
With a flicker of curiosity, he tightened his grip slightly.
Crack.
The stone shattered like glass under his fingers, releasing a burst of light and raw energy that rushed into his body.
—Level Up!—
Level: 12 → 14
Stats:
STR – 7
AGI – 9
END – 6
MAG – 3
[Distribute Points: 4]
Aren blinked.
"Two levels… from just one stone?" he muttered, eyebrows raised.
He considered the options. Each stat glimmered faintly in his mind's eye, almost calling out to him.
'So each level grants two points. Makes sense… and I'm a close-combat type. No need for magic. Strength it is.'
He funneled all four points into STR without hesitation.
STR – 11
'Much better.'
He nodded, feeling the subtle change ripple through his limbs—like wires had been tightened, muscles primed.
Then—
"Found it!" Raven suddenly roared from the drawer, her voice echoing through the chamber like a firework.
She turned toward him, triumphant, eyes practically sparkling with manic energy as she held up something Aren couldn't quite see yet.
He turned slowly, one brow raised.
This was going to be interesting.