We were teleported to the Intermediary Floor in a flash of light. The sensation was disorienting, like being pulled apart and stitched back together in the same breath. My legs gave out the instant my feet touched the ground, and I fell back onto my butt with a dull thud, too exhausted to even brace myself. The floor beneath me was cool like always.

  My head was foggy. Heavy. Like I had just woken up from a dream that refused to let go.

  Wait.

  I felt full.

  I asked, "How did you take care of my waste?"

  The words slipped out before I could stop them, confusion overriding embarrassment. Eli looked down at me, his expression caught somewhere between concern and poorly hidden amusement. I pushed myself up with my hands, and that’s when it really hit me—my stomach was painfully full, bloated to the point it felt like it might burst if I breathed too hard.

  Panic set in immediately.

  I clamped a hand over my mouth and bolted, my legs moving on instinct as I ran toward the restroom, barely registering my surroundings. Every step made the pressure worse, like my body was screaming at me for neglecting it for a full week.

  From behind me, through the walls and my own misery, I could hear Alex laugh, "Mary was able to 'heal' your bowels, kid! If you woke up a day later, it would've came out in a heap!"

  The words did nothing to help my dignity, or my situation.

  Soto hit him on his bicep, "Have some manners."

  Even in my half-delirious state, I could tell Soto was genuinely annoyed. That helped, somehow. It grounded me. Reminded me that despite everything—the fighting, the death, the blood—we were still... us.

  Malik twiddled with his staff, his fingers never quite still, the wood clicking softly against his gloves. His shoulders were tense, like he expected someone to shout at him for even bringing it up. "T-the red orc that attacked us has served us well so far..."

  That sentence alone made my stomach tighten. Even knowing what Malik could do, it was still unsettling hearing it spoken so casually—served us well.

  Sosuke crossed his arms, his posture calm, measured, the way it always got when he was being arrogant. "Try not to use it around Haruto. I'll tell him so he won't be surprised if we need it, but still."

  That was Sosuke now. Still blunt, still intense—but there was a line he wouldn’t cross anymore. Desmond had changed him. It changed all of us, whether we wanted to admit it or not.

  Mei slid closer to Sosuke, her movements uncharacteristically soft, like a cat settling beside its owner. She leaned into his side and said, "I missed you darling..."

  For a split second, it almost felt wrong seeing that kind of warmth here, in this place. Then again, maybe that’s exactly why she did it. To remind herself she was still human, despite being an assassin.

  Sosuke rubbed the underside of his nose, looking away just slightly. "I'm now level thirty one."

  That made my eyebrows twitch upward before I could stop it. Thirty-one. That was... high. Too high. The gap between us was growing faster than I liked.

  I could feel Soto from a mile away.

  Not literally—well, maybe literally, given how absurd our stats were now—but emotionally. His presence was heavy, coiled, like a mountain holding its breath. His eyes kept drifting toward Sosuke, measuring, imagining. It was obvious what he wanted.

  A spar.

  A test.

  A way to see how far behind—or ahead—he really was.

  Isn't Soto level twenty four himself now?

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  And what's with the Tower? It's not communicating with us.

  Sweat ran down my face, and that means something. I don't get tired easily. I waved my arm through the air, summoning my Status Window.

  I decided to increase my speed once more.

  It felt right. Natural. Like tightening a wire that was already under tension. With Instant Speed active, even Sosuke has a hard time tracking me now, and that alone tells me I’m doing something right. His eyes follow almost everything—almost. Knowing I can slip past that focus, even for a heartbeat, is intoxicating. I want a girlfriend too, you know!

  I’ll upgrade my strength and stamina next time. I know I should balance myself better, but speed is who I've become. What good is power if you can’t land it? What good is endurance if nothing can touch you in the first place? I want to test myself—really test myself—but I can wait. It’s only one stat point. Logically, I know I can’t be that much faster.

  Emotionally, though? It feels different.

  Out of the seven that went on the genocide spree, I held the third highest number of kills.

  That isn’t something I’m proud of. It’s just a fact. A number. We counted them because we needed something concrete to justify what we were doing. We all wanted to kill these things on behalf of Desmond, so we kept track, like it meant something beyond blood and exhaustion.

  One hundred and sixty three.

  Saying it in my head still feels strange. Most of them were blue orcs, with some red mixed in. The blue ones were smarter, trickier. The red orcs, though... they were fast and strong. Not fast enough—but close enough to make my skin crawl in hindsight. Maybe a fifth of my speed, usually? That doesn’t sound like much until you’re the one being chased by a group of them.

  They’re powerful monsters. Durable. Aggressive. Relentless.

  And to think that they were that close to me.

  Of course, when I used Instant Speed, they were moving in slow motion. Limbs dragging through the air, weapons swinging too late, expressions frozen between rage and confusion. In those moments, I felt untouchable. Invincible.

  But when the skill faded, when time snapped back into place, the thought lingered.

  If I were any slower...

  I don’t like thinking about that.

  I think the next seven days will be somber.

  One of us died.

  We’re joking around. Laughing. Teasing each other like always. But it’s there, under every word and every smile—a weight we’re all pretending not to feel. We carry it differently, but it’s the same burden.

  We all need rest after that. Not just our bodies.

  Our minds, too.