Ryen wanted to kill him.
The thought struck hard — raw and unfiltered. He’d never felt hatred like this before, so sharp it almost felt foreign in his own body.
It was strange. Until now, he’d seen cruelty, faced monsters, and even crossed paths with people who’d taken lives without blinking. Yet never once had he truly wanted to kill soone. Not like this.
But seeing Rin’s body fall lifelessly to the ground — seeing that masked bastard standing over him, calm, almost bored — sothing inside Ryen snapped.
A hot, searing fury burned through the numbness in his chest.
He’d always thought he understood what it ant to face evil. To fight it, to resist it. He thought he was hardened enough to endure anything this twisted world could throw at him.
But he’d been wrong.
He’d been naive.
Because no one had died before — not soone he truly cared about. As long as everyone survived, he could always pretend things would sohow work out. That tomorrow would fix what today broke.
How laughable.
He’d been living with that comfortable illusion, blind to how fragile everything really was. How easy it was to lose soone because of another’s cruelty... or just plain whim.
[Losing your composure during battle isn’t a good habit.]
The man’s voice cut through his rage like a blade through silk. Calm. Cold. Almost... amused.
’I know.’
Ryen bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste iron. Of course he knew. Any idiot knew you shouldn’t fight while blinded by anger.
But knowing and stopping were two different things.
Because the man in front of him — that monster wearing a mask — hadn’t even been scratched when facing Professor Lena and Inspector Rachel together.
And yet he stood there, unhurried, unbothered, as if the world around him was nothing more than an inconvenience.
Ryen clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white.
Kai Foster, the opponent he’d once faced during the entrance ceremony — even he couldn’t compare to the overwhelming pressure this masked monster radiated.
Every instinct scread that charging in blindly was suicide. That no matter how strong his emotions burned, they wouldn’t be enough to bridge the gap between them.
But reason only held for so long.
The mont Rin’s body hit the ground, sothing inside Ryen snapped. His vision blurred with rage as holy energy surged violently from his core, the weight of grief twisting it into sothing unstable and raw.
[Judging by your level,] the masked man said coolly, tilting his head as though examining a bug, [it wouldn’t have changed anything — even if you had arrived earlier.]
"...Shut up!" Ryen roared, his voice cracking under the force of it.
The holy sword in his grip flared with light, the radiance trembling from his unsteady emotions. He lunged forward, a slash of golden energy tearing through the air — yet the man simply sidestepped, as if moving through water, calm and untouchable.
Then, with almost bored precision, he flicked a finger in Ryen’s direction.
A sharp crack echoed.
Ryen’s body jerked backward, his head snapping from the invisible impact. A dizzying wave of pain exploded behind his eyes — like his brain had been struck by lightning.
"—!" He staggered, barely catching himself, teeth gritted so hard they creaked.
The masked man’s voice followed, smooth and unhurried.
[Was it all for nothing? Him holding on... waiting for you to co crawling to save him?]
Ryen’s hands trembled.
[Judging by your level, even if you had arrived sooner, there would simply be more corpses decorating this floor.]
He knew — deep down — it was provocation. Cold, calculated words ant to twist the knife deeper. But it didn’t matter.
The rational part of him scread to stay calm, to think, but rage drowned it out, boiling over like magma in his chest. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, drowning everything else.
"You—" Ryen’s grip tightened around his sword, holy light flickering violently along its edge. "You don’t get to say that!"
And then, despite the warning in his gut, he charged again.
The world seed to narrow to a single point — the masked man standing before him.
Ryen’s vision blurred around the edges, his pulse pounding so hard it was like his heart had taken root in his throat. Every breath ca ragged, every step heavier than the last, but still he charged forward, sword raised high.
The light of his blade blazed gold, holy energy screaming against the suffocating darkness that filled the chamber. The two forces clashed, light against shadow — a collision that cracked the air like thunder.
For a heartbeat, it almost looked like Ryen could reach him.
And then the man moved.
Not fast — not even suddenly. Just... effortlessly.
He shifted his weight by a fraction, the tilt of his head almost casual, and Ryen’s blade cut nothing but air. Before Ryen could react, a hand like a blade of iron slamd into his chest.
The impact stole the air from his lungs. His vision flashed white.
He was airborne before he realized it — then crashing back to the ground, rolling across the cold stone.
"Ryen!" Kiera’s voice cracked through the chaos, and for once, she sounded terrified.
He coughed hard, tasting blood, forcing his trembling hands to tighten around his sword. He couldn’t stay down. He wouldn’t.
But when he looked up, the masked man hadn’t even taken a step forward. He just stood there, one hand tucked in his pocket, the other resting loosely by his side — as if he was sparring with a child.
[Rage without control leads to ruin,] the man said, his tone maddeningly calm. [He would’ve known that. Too bad you don’t.]
That voice. That detached, almost teacher-like voice — it dug under Ryen’s skin like hooks.
"Shut up," he rasped, forcing himself upright. His legs shook, but he lifted his sword again, holy light flickering weakly now.
And charge again, knowing that the result would be sa as before.
...But that doesn’t an he going to stop.
He was going to kill this human monster before him.
Even it’s the last thing he will do.
He will kill him.
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