The room was still thick with everything left unsaid.
The only sound now was the faint clink of ceramic as Rinji finished stacking the last bowl, humming a tune too calm for the weight in the air.
Izuma hadn't moved much since everything had occurred.
He didn't know what stung more—the quiet truth, or the fact that Rinji had carried it like a ghost this whole time. He could still feel Adia's presence near his shoulder, the weight of her attempt to comfort him, the silent concern in Lira's hard stare.
But something shifted in the air when Rinji turned. His hand rested on the counter for a beat too long, the humming stopped, and his masked face tilted toward Izuma.
"…Izuma,"
Rinji said softly.
"Come with me for a bit."
That was all.
No grand explanation. No looks toward the others. Just a quiet invitation—aimed solely at him.
Adia opened her mouth, maybe to protest, but Rinji glanced at her, a slight tilt of his head. There was no threat in it, no command… just a look that said: Please. Trust me.
"…You good?" Lira asked, eyes still sharp as ever, scanning Izuma.
He nodded once, even if he wasn't sure.
Adia stepped aside, giving him a small nod of her own, her fingers lacing nervously in front of him.
And then they were gone.
The air outside was cold, thinner than before, like the city itself was holding its breath. They didn't speak at first. Footsteps echoed against damp stone streets. The distant chatter of merchants and clinking armor filled the spaces their conversation refused to.
Izuma's mind wasn't quiet. Not anymore. 'He knew.' The words replayed again and again. Every moment. Every interaction. Rinji had been watching, protecting, reading him. And now… now they were just walking, alone, toward something he didn't understand.
"Where… are we going?" Izuma asked softly, finally breaking the silence.
Rinji didn't look back.
"The Veilforge."
That name hit like a whisper soaked in power. Izuma didn't know why—but it felt important. Revered.
"It's… a place?"
"More like a gate," Rinji said. "To understanding yourself. Your talents. Your purpose. The Guild uses it to evaluate the upper class. Normally, only Rank A adventurers or higher even see it. Fewer get to use it."
"Wait… then how—"
Izuma's words were cut short. Rinji turned his head slightly, and his smile—half hidden by the mask—said everything. Of course he had access. Top 5. A Guardian. A Blessed One. Izuma didn't know why he kept forgetting just who he was walking beside.
"You'll need to see it for yourself," Rinji added, voice softer now, almost… tired. "Because I think it'll help explain things in a way I can't."
Their boots clicked against metal plates embedded into the street. Rinji's cloak fluttered behind him as they passed a plaza lined with glowing glyphs embedded in the walls. The light shifted as they moved, changing hue to follow Rinji's badge.
"These are checkpoints," Rinji explained casually. "Track who enters where. They'll let me pass, so you'll pass too. Don't speak unless you're spoken to."
Izuma nodded, silent again, but his thoughts were anything but. Why did it feel like this was about more than just checking some abilities? Why was Rinji suddenly so solemn, his tone laced with something like dread buried beneath calm?
The knight paused as they reached a bridge connecting two high towers. The wind tugged at Izuma's jacket. He hugged it tighter around himself. Then—just as Rinji was about to step forward—he stopped. Not turned around. Just… stopped.
"Izuma," he said, voice carried by wind but heavy with weight. "There's something you should know before we get there."
Izuma blinked.
"Yeah?"
With a black expression and a pause. Rinji spoke—not loud. Not dramatic. Just real.
"I died too."
Izuma froze.
"What?"
"Before this world. Before all of this. I'm not from here either."
The world screeched. Not physically. But in Izuma's head. His breath caught like he'd been punched in the stomach.
"You—You what?" His voice cracked.
Rinji didn't turn. He just kept walking.
"Don't pry too much. I don't intend to say more."
Izuma's thoughts exploded. "What did that mean? He died? Rinji? Just like him? From another world? Another life? Did he remember it? Was it the same world? Was it earth? Mars? How long had he been here? How did he get this strong? Can i reach his level? Wh—H-How did he—how did he survive? How was he not broken?" Questions flooded his mind like a burst dam and none of them came out of his mouth, Since Rinji had said not to. So Izuma just followed, chest pounding, thoughts spiraling out of control as the doors to the Adventurer's Guild loomed ahead.
As they entered, the front gates buzzed with passing travelers—many armored, some robed, most with the kind of confident posture that came from surviving a dozen fights too many. Izuma felt eyes flicker toward them, linger on his cloak and mask, then move on.
No one questioned Rinji.
A short, bored clerk at the front desk glanced up.
"Sir Rinji." Her tone flipped into something respectful instantly. "We weren't expecting you."
"Change of plans," Rinji said, placing his Guild seal on the counter. The glyphs inside it glowed.
She examined it once. Then twice. Then nodded briskly.
"Understood. Veilforge access?"
"Full sync. Observer link closed. One subject."
Izuma blinked. He didn't understand half those words.
The clerk didn't even question it.
"Room seven. Attunement crystal will already be prepped."
Izuma's gut clenched. He watched as the clerk's expression went from boredom to a flash of, "Oh shit, it's him," and suddenly her posture became rigid, respectful. She nodded once and tapped a hovering glyph, then led them down a narrow hallway lined with dusty tapestries depicting heroic deeds. The walls on either side were lined with dull sconces, their flickering flame revealing motes of dust drifting like tiny stars.
Izuma stared. No one else had noticed him. No one asked who he was. Why he was allowed back there. He was just swept along by proximity. This is how powerful people live, Izuma thought. This is how Rinji lives.
They walked through another set of double doors, descending down spiral stairs of obsidian glass. The walls shifted to a deeper blue, pulsing faintly like veins. Each level they dropped, Izuma's stomach turned tighter. Then, finally, they stopped. Room Seven. A circular platform surrounded by jagged crystal growths. In the center was it. The Veilforge.
"The Veilforge," Rinji said simply. "This world's way of showing you who you are."
"…What?"
"You wanted answers, didn't you?" Rinji turned to him, his voice softer. "This won't give you all of them, but it's where most of us start. If you've never tested your talents… this is where you learn."
"I thought you said you could read mine."
"I can read your mind. Not your soul," Rinji said, stepping closer to the crystal. "This thing? It listens to your soul."
Izuma swallowed hard.
"…Is it safe?"
"No," Rinji said. "But it's worth it."
The words hit a little too real.
Rinji glanced back at him. "It's not painful. Just… personal. You'll see things that feel like dreams, maybe hear voices. But once it's done, you'll know your talents. Your stats. What you're meant to become. More or less."
Izuma stepped forward, hesitant.
The crystal pulsed again.
"Touch it with both hands," Rinji instructed. "And try not to resist. Let it in."
Izuma turned back. "You're not coming?"
"This part..." Rinji said, his tone final, "you do alone."
Izuma took a breath.
He pressed both palms to the cool, humming surface.
The world vanished.
At first, there was nothing. Then, a ripple.
A memory?
No.
A presence.
He stood in a black void, like space without stars. Then, slowly, text began to drift in front of him. Elegant. White. Carved into the air like breath on glass.
= - — Scanning Soul Core....
= — -Analyzing Cognitive Strata....
= - — Unveiling Talent Profile….
Izuma stared, unable to breathe.
- — Species: Human (Unregistered)
— -Origin: [REDACTED]
- — Soul Stability: 42%
— -Combat Readiness: Low
- —Mental Integrity: Wavering
— -Talent Detected:
.
. .
. . .
There was a pause.
A long one.
He blinked, nervous.
Then it came.
[Talent: Respawn]
His stomach dropped.
One word.
Just one.
Respawn?
He stared at it.
No descriptions followed. No flashy subtext. No rankings. No numbers. No explanation.
Just that.
The black void around him stayed silent, but something about the word felt… heavy.
Final.
Like a curse whispered through eternity.
- — Processing Complete. Returning to Consciousness — -
But Izuma didn't move.
He didn't breathe.
All he could do… was stare.
At that single word.
Respawn.