The chamber was quiet now.
The shattered remains of the obsidian beast lay smoldering in the crater Xavier had carved on the floor. Crystals flickered overhead, casting soft, reverent lights across the chamber. The air still buzzed faintly with residual energy from the Dazzling Impact, but the storm had passed.
Xavier stood in the center, gauntlets dimming, breath steady.
"My fist hurts." Xavier winced, muttering to himself. "Damn, is it because the attack was super strong and my body is not able to keep up with it?"
He decided to check that theory out. He pulled out his gauntlet on his right hand and stared at it. His hand was swollen, visibly purple and torn, and blisters marked his wrist and fingers. His knuckles were dripping with blood.
"Yeah, it looks like my theory was correct," Xavier confirmed, removing both gauntlets and returning them to his inventory. He flexed his hands, wincing in pain.
"System," Xavier asked. "Why can't you just analyse the monsters I face, give me an obvious weak spot, so I can target and be done with it?"
[The system does not have that feature and will not have that feature.]
"Why?"
[The system was only created to summon weapons for you to be able to fight, not to analyse opponents for you."
"Then you're just useless then." Xavier huffed, clearly pissed. "Why can't you be normal?"
[The host should be grateful that the system directly increases his physical abilities.]
"Whatever." Xavier spat. "I've been doing the heavy work by myself. I don't need you anyway. Just do what you want. "
[Very well.]
Xavier stepped out of the crystalline chamber, the air cooler now, the silence heavier. The corridor ahead was narrow and dimly lit, carved from smooth obsidian and lined with faintly glowing runes that pulsed like a heartbeat.
He walked slowly, senses sharp.
The corridor twisted, then opened into a small chamber‐--bare, quiet, and strangely warm.
He breathed the air. It was fresh. Better than the chambers or corridors he had been inside. Stale, musty, smelling of dried, monster blood.
He looked around then he froze, clearly not believing his eyes.
There in the center of the corridor was a woman.
Naked.
She sat curled against the wall, her knees drawn to her chest. Her face was buried in her hands. Her long, dark hair spilled over her shoulders like a curtain, trembling with each sob. Her body was pale, almost translucent in the low light, and her back rose and fell with uneven breaths.
"No," he whispered. "Not again."
He tried not to remember it. The thing that started this all mess, the thing that reduced him to this state. It was just glaring at him, his mind replaying that encounter over and over, not stopping, replaying like a phone hanging badly.
Now the same thing was happening to him again. Why, why again? Why was it happening again?
"It's another freaking naked woman!" Xavier snarled, in his mind. "Why! This can't happen again."
He could still remember that body. Naked, curvy, beautiful but also rotten, decomposing. Positioned in an absurd position, waiting in sight of them. And now he was seeing it again, but this time she was alive.
"This is no freaking coincidence." He muttered, trying his best not to stare at her backside with all the power he could muster. "Something is wrong. Very wrong. I can feel it."
"Wait," Xavier thought. "Didn't the man writing the letter say something about F-ranks being captured from the dungeon and being experimented on. Maybe for years now. And she escaped."
He scanned the room------no blood, no chains, no signs of struggle. Just her. Alone. Vulnerable.
"No," Xavier whispered to himself. "It feels wrong. The air around her feels.....off. Too still. Feel staged."
He stared at the woman again. "But I can't just ignore her or leave her yet. It won't feel.....right."
He stepped forward, slowly.
"Are you okay?" He asked, voice low, steady. "Are you hurt?"
She didn't respond.
He took another step."What happened?"
Her sobbing stopped.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Then slowly she turned her head.
Her face was hidden between her hands, fingers trembling.
She lowered them.
Her eyes met his.
They were wide. Too wide. And dry.
No tears.
Just a smile.
A slow creeping smile that stretched across her face like a crack in porcelain.
Xavier's breath caught.
'Oh, shit."
She stood in one fluid motion, unnatural, graceful, like a puppet being pulled by invisible strings. Her body was pale, almost translucent in the still light. Too smooth. Too rehearsed.
Then without warning, her arm flicked forward.
A blade appeared, curved, thin, and gleaming with a violent sheen. It stopped just short of Xavier's throat, the tip hovering away from the breath of his skin.
He didn't flinch.
Her smile widened, her eyes gleaming with something feral.
"Don't move." She whispered, voice like silk soaked in venom.
The blade didn't tremble.
Her hand was steady.
Xavier's eyes narrowed as the corridor held its breath.
And all he could say was one word.
"Fuck."