LIV

"Ah~! Better time than any to chill…"

I leaned back in my chair with a steaming cup of coffee in hand, and let my eyes drift to the screen before me. Selena's match unfolded in real-time, the vivid display pulling me into the action.

Her opponent was a Maker-type hunter who wielded an aerodynamic surfboard like a weapon. It wasn’t just for show; the contraption hovered and darted through the air with predatory grace, its razor-sharp edges gleaming menacingly. With every swing, it sliced through the air like a blade, while the hunter himself moved as if born to ride it.

The camerawork was immaculate. Each angle, each dramatic cut, perfectly captured the intensity of the battle. The lens zoomed in on Selena as she moved, her expression a calm mask of focus, her steps light and precise. Then it shifted to her opponent, flipping his board mid-air to parry her attacks.

I took a sip of coffee, savoring the bitter warmth as I admired the fight. Whoever was behind the camera knew their craft well. The way they highlighted each critical moment—the split-second decisions, the near-misses—it was almost too perfect, as if the battle had been choreographed for maximum effect.

A frown crept onto my face as my thoughts wandered. How are they doing this?

During my fight with Shen, I hadn’t noticed any drones, hidden operators, or even a single flicker of surveillance tech. It had felt like the forest was empty, the fight contained to just us. So where were these impeccable shots coming from? Invisible cameramen? Advanced tech? Or was it something more… esoteric?

I shook the thought off for now, returning my attention to the screen.

Selena was gaining ground. Her relentless offense was forcing her opponent onto the defensive. The surfboard-wielding hunter, for all his precision and flair, was beginning to falter.

I leaned back, my gaze drifting momentarily to the ceiling. The fight reminded me of my own shortcomings. My techniques, while effective, were a patchwork—disjointed and chaotic. Every victory I’d claimed so far felt like a scramble, piecing together whatever worked in the moment.

But now, with the Homing attribute, I felt a flicker of hope. It wasn’t just a tool—it was the key to building flow where before there had only been disorder. The potential to chain moves, to create something cohesive, was finally within reach.

Still, I had a long way to go. My aura reserves were limited, and I’d barely begun to address the issue. Using my doll or other Maker artifacts as auxiliary batteries seemed like the most viable solution for now. It wasn’t perfect, but it was progress.

Selena’s sharp voice jolted me from my thoughts.

“Is that all you got, sleazebag?”

I glanced back at the screen. Selena was relentless, her movements weaving through her opponent’s attacks like she was a ghost. The cloak I’d given her amplified her speed and added a layer of invisibility, leaving behind afterimages that blurred the line between reality and illusion.

The resemblance to Geoffrey’s technique was unmistakable, but Selena brought her own flair. Where Geoffrey reacted, Selena overwhelmed. Her precision, combined with sheer agility, made her a force of nature.

Watching her, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride. She was using the cloak in ways I hadn’t even considered, pushing its limits and making it her own.

Then, an unsettling thought crept in: If this is being broadcast… Leora must be watching.

A pang of unease settled in my chest. I could picture her face, her wide, worried eyes as she saw me fighting, saw the risks I’d taken, the close calls that could have ended me.

I sighed, the weight of it pressing down on me.

“I’d rather she didn’t watch,” I muttered to myself. The idea of her worrying over me, seeing me like that… It wasn’t a thought I wanted to dwell on.

I glanced down at my phone as it buzzed, the screen lighting up with a message from Leora.

Leora:
I just saw your fight. That’s badass. I’d normally be scared to death, but thankfully it’s the Fighting Tower. Used to have a training program with my old team back there. Really fun place.

I rubbed my temple. If only she knew how flawed the Tower’s protections really were.

Another buzz followed almost immediately:

Leora:
Anyways, lots of love from me and Leonard. Got any intel on the Cult? Just asking, no pressure… because I think they’re on the move. They made a few moves against us recently… had to relocate three times already. Even Stefan was attacked once. I think they don’t see you as a threat like you theorized.

Her words settled uneasily in my gut.

Leora:
Seriously though, work your ass a little harder… and since you won’t tell me your whole picture, I will continue bitching about it. If you get killed, I swear I’ll make Leonard’s name legally changed to Reynard Jr. And I know how much you’d hate that.

I exhaled sharply, smirking despite myself. Typical Leora—always finding a way to mix humor with pointed reminders of my failures.

But the humor faded as guilt crept in. I stared at the screen, unable to type a response. What could I even say? That I had everything under control? That I was closing in on answers? The truth was, I felt like I was spinning my wheels.

I clenched my fist, her words echoing in my mind. Work your ass a little harder.

Was it arrogance that brought me here? The promises I’d made to her—to protect her and Leonard—felt like distant memories, overshadowed by my failures. I told her I’d take care of everything, that they wouldn’t have to live in fear anymore. And yet, while they were being hunted, I was here in this damn Tower, tangled in its endless games.

Patience. I needed to hold onto it. Impulsiveness wouldn’t help anyone.

The sound of the television snapped me out of my thoughts. Selena’s match was wrapping up.

On the screen, her opponent lay sprawled on the ground, defeated. Selena stood over him, holding his surfboard triumphantly. Her miniaturization technique had come into play at the last second, shrinking the board and rendering it useless in his hands. Now it was hers.

I scoffed, shaking my head. She could’ve ended the fight much sooner if she’d unleashed her full power. But no—she clearly had her eyes on that board from the start.

Selena’s miniaturization ability always fascinated me. It wasn’t just impressive; it was almost impossible to replicate. No matter how much I tried to reverse-engineer her methods, I couldn’t come close to reproducing it.

I yawned, stretching out the stiffness in my shoulders. Sitting in my room was doing me no favors. I needed a change of scenery—and a chance to confront Selena about her performance.

The Lobby

The corridor outside my room led to a sprawling, open area that served as a hub for the participants. Hunters mingled freely, their competitive edge dulled by the casual atmosphere. Tables and chairs sprouted from the floor like magic, accommodating impromptu gatherings. The ever-reliable vending machines clicked and whirred, dispensing drinks and meals on demand.

Even the hunters who had already been eliminated seemed to be enjoying themselves. President Bob’s love for spectacle ensured that this space felt more like a festival than a battleground.

“Yo~” Selena’s voice rang out, pulling me from my thoughts.

I turned to see her leaning lazily against a vending machine, a smirk plastered across her face. “And here I thought you’d forgotten about me…”

I crossed my arms. “You’re enjoying yourself. Aren’t you supposed to be my bodyguard?”

She rolled her eyes with exaggerated flair. “The Tower’s practically made us unkillable. What’s there to guard you from now?”

I bit back the urge to mention Gerry and the close call that would have killed me. No need to give her more ammunition for teasing.

Instead, my eyes caught on something in her hair. It took me a second to realize what it was: a tacky clip that looked out of place against her otherwise practical style.

Then it hit me. It wasn’t just a hair accessory. It was the surfboard she’d stolen during her match, miniaturized and repurposed.

“Nasty,” I muttered under my breath.

Selena caught my gaze and grinned wider. “Like it? Thought I’d put it to good use. Why waste good loot?”

I sighed, shaking my head. Of course, she’d find a way to flaunt her spoils.

The ambient glow of the Tower’s magical lighting bathed the lobby in a steady, ethereal light. Time here felt warped, suspended between battles and fleeting moments of calm. Outside, it must’ve been dark by now, but inside the Tower, the cycles of day and night felt irrelevant.

Selena and I stood in line at one of the vending machines, its interface gleaming with endless meal options. With a few selections, our orders materialized, accompanied by a symphony of quiet clicks and whirs.

We found a spot in a quieter corner of the lobby. The floor hummed beneath us, and mechanical arms emerged, producing a table and chairs that seamlessly rose from the ground. Even after all this time, the Tower’s ingenuity still managed to surprise me.

I glanced down at my tray: steaming rice, chicken stew, and a glass of pineapple juice that looked almost comically fresh, as if advertising its health benefits. Across from me, Selena poked at her plate of greens, grains, and tofu—a full vegan spread.

I raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t take you for a vegan.”

Selena smirked. “You learn something new every day.”

I stirred my stew, deciding to change the subject. “Who’s your next opponent?”

She took a deliberate sip of her tea before answering. “Some guy who calls himself Dummy…”

I blinked. “Dummy? How did that guy make it this far?”

“You know him?” she asked, spearing a piece of lettuce with her fork.

“I saw him messing around with Black on the airship,” I replied. “They were playing chess. He’s a trickster with some kind of ‘weakening’ or ‘retardation’ attribute. No idea how strong he really is, though.”

Selena leaned back, mulling this over, but my thoughts were already spiraling.

Dummy. Among all the characters I’d written into this world, I couldn’t place anyone by that name. My gut twisted with suspicion. Was he some hidden master disguised as a clown? The idea seemed absurd, even for this place, but the Tower had a way of throwing curveballs.

Selena’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. “So… who’s the chick?”

I followed her gaze to the holographic jumbotron hovering above us. The tournament bracket shimmered, and there it was—my face paired with my next opponent’s: Marah Maldave.

As if summoned by her name, Marah appeared.

She was petite, barely over five feet, with pale white skin that seemed to glow under the Tower’s lights. Her dark hair framed a face dominated by crimson eyes that glimmered with an unsettling mix of curiosity and malice. Her outfit was equally striking: a cropped top that left her shoulders, neck, and midriff exposed, paired with fitted pants and boots that gave her a predatory edge. Every movement she made was deliberate, calculated.

My stomach churned with recognition.

I scowled, my voice laced with venom. “The High Priestess of the Elsewhere Cult. Tell me, Marah, how does it feel to be the Prophet’s little lapdog?”

Marah’s lips curled into a serene smile, her crimson eyes gleaming with amusement.

Selena shot me a warning look. “Oi, Rey. Is that smart? Playing ignorant might’ve given us an edge.”

I shook my head, not breaking eye contact with Marah. “Doesn’t matter. She’s a Reader-type. Mind-reader. She’s already in my head. Don’t let her looks fool you—this is the High Priestess of the Elsewhere Cult. And she’s older than she looks.”

Marah’s voice was silky, with a mocking undertone. “My, my, such aggression. I wonder, Reynard… how did you kill Naon? And still live?”

The mention of Naon sent a spike of anger through me, but I clenched my fists, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a reaction. If they’d sent Marah, it meant the Cult was taking me seriously. That was a silver lining, at least.

Selena leaned closer, her voice low. “What’s she talking about?”

“Naon,” I said through gritted teeth. “The Prophet’s right hand.”

Marah’s smile widened, and she gave a slight nod, as if confirming a long-held suspicion.

The desire to strike her down surged within me, but I forced myself to stay calm. This wasn’t the time or place. Even if I had the Association’s probability-destroying dagger, the Tower’s rules made outright killing impossible. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t dangerous.

Marah tilted her head, her tone dripping with faux curiosity. “You’ve made quite the impression, Reynard. I wonder… will you survive our little dance?”

I kept my voice steady, matching her mockery with cold defiance. “Guess we’ll find out soon enough.” And with the smallest amount of aura, I letout my killing intent.

Marah’s voice oozed mockery as she tilted her head, crimson eyes glinting with menace. “So much killing intent… and here I was, thinking of offering you an olive branch to join the Cult. But you’re so stubborn, aren’t you? Let’s see if you’ll still look so confident after I rip out your soul, crush it, and feed on it.”

Her words hung in the air like a curse, daring me to react. But I smirked, meeting her gaze without flinching. “Big talk. Let’s see if you can back it up, High Priestess.”

For a brief moment, her confident smile faltered, but she quickly masked it, her voice dripping with malice. “Oh, I can back it up. And you…” She leaned forward slightly, her gaze piercing. “Such a pity. Your memories are fragmented, but I can read you just enough.”

I raised an eyebrow, my tone deliberately calm. “Fragmented? What’s your game, Marah? Why reveal yourself now?”

Her expression shifted, adopting a veneer of sincerity that was almost convincing. “My reasoning is quite pure, you know?”

Selena scoffed from beside me. “As if.”

Marah chuckled softly, but the sound carried an edge that sent a chill through the air. “Join the Cult,” she purred, her voice as smooth as silk. “Offer your firstborn son to us, and we shall bestow upon you the gift of immortality. Of course, if your wife is inclined to join as well… that would be perfect. Just so you know, we allow multiple marriages, so it’s entirely possible for you to take a second wife.”

At the mention of a second wife, her gaze lingered on Selena, her crimson eyes tracing her with an unsettling intensity.

Selena’s patience snapped. “This fucking bitch.”

I bit back a laugh, keeping my composure. Instead, I tilted my head, my smirk widening as I locked eyes with Marah. “Tell me, Marah, what am I thinking right now?”

Her confident expression flickered as she squinted at me, clearly digging into my mind. The silence stretched, tension crackling in the air. Finally, she spoke, her tone smug. “That you want to kill me.”

I shook my head, my smirk never wavering. “Look deeper.”

Her brows furrowed as she focused more intently, her crimson eyes narrowing. The room seemed to grow colder as her expression shifted—first confusion, then something darker. Her lips parted slightly, and her voice trembled. “W-what?”

The energy in the air shifted as Marah’s composure began to crumble. Her gaze darted, her breathing quickened, and then, like a dam breaking, tears welled in her eyes.

Soft sobs escaped her, her shoulders trembling as she staggered back. “Lies!” she screamed, her voice cracking as panic overtook her expression. Her hands shook violently, and her eyes were wide with terror, as if she’d glimpsed something too horrifying to comprehend.

Then, without warning, she turned and bolted, her movements frantic and erratic. Her once-confident demeanor was shattered, her steps uneven as she fled the scene.

Selena stared after her, her voice low and tinged with disbelief. “What did you do?”

I let the silence stretch, leaning back slightly as I watched Marah disappear into the distance. Finally, I gave a cryptic smile. “That’s a secret.”

Selena scowled, frustration and confusion written all over her face. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Part of my charm,” I replied with a shrug, but my thoughts were already elsewhere.

This wasn’t just a minor victory. Shaking Marah’s resolve was the first domino in a much larger chain. Her confidence had been her armor, and now that it was cracked, the Cult would feel the ripple effects.

The counterattack had truly begun.

~054