Snow crunched as Ryn forced himself upright into a standing position.

He took a look at his left arm once more.

Definitely broken.

Ryn knew that he couldn't take another hit. Though he didn't need to, they just had to stall out the fight.

He sucked in a shallow breath and let the pain recede into the background.

Think.

Fritz was already moving.

Wind tore across the narrow pass as Fritz surged forward again. With an outward horizontal sweep, he channeled his Wind Affinity to release a devastating slash, exploding outward as the executioner skidded half a step back.

Ryn's vision sharpened, [Enhanced Senses] now flaring more than ever.

"Don't commit," Ryn snapped. "Two steps left—now."

Fritz shifted instantly, wind snapping beneath his boots as an ice spike erupted where he'd just been standing.

Kharik's lips twitched.

[Orion]

The spectral bow formed in a blink. Pain flared as he twisted his body just enough to draw and loosen the arrow.

It screamed past Fritz's shoulder, detonating right behind Kharik in a burst of frozen debris, forcing him to pivot and abort his advance.

"Press," Ryn ordered. "But don't chase."

Fritz didn't ask why.

He lunged, wind wrapping around his frame as he delivered a heavy downward strike. Kharik caught it, boots digging into the snow as the impact shook the cliff walls.

Ryn felt sweat bead at his temple despite the cold.

"Right flank—feint only."

Fritz obeyed, slashing wide instead of deep.

Kharik moved to punish—

"Duck!"

Fritz dropped a heartbeat before the huge arc of the executioner's greatsword tore through the space his head had occupied.

Ryn fired again.

Another shot skimmed the ground to explode against the snow, erupting in a cloud of white and choking the field of vision.

Fritz took a step back and regrouped with Ryn.

"He's learning our patterns," he growled under his breath.

"I know," Ryn replied, voice tight. "Just…try to buy some more time."

Ryn's gaze flicked upward.

There.

A massive layer of loose stone loomed overhead. Just a single disruption would cause the whole thing to tumble.

Ryn pointed at the clump—Fritz recognized it immediately.

"On my mark."

Kharik advanced again, greatsword rolling onto his shoulder as the temperature plummeted.

Ryn drew Orion one last time.

His arm trembled violently as he pulled the string back.

He waited as the shadow of the executioner got closer.

And waited…just before his figure barely surfaced the cold.

"Now."

The arrow tore through the air and exploded into the mass of rocks. It gave way immediately as the whole hill collapsed.

Fritz reacted instantly.

Wind Essence detonated outward, catching the falling mass mid-motion and wrenching it sideways.

Stone and ice crashed into the figure, exploding into a wall of debris that swallowed Kharik's position whole.

For a heartbeat…silence.

Ryn exhaled shakily.

We bought time.

Then, rubble shifted.

Cold surged outward in a violent pulse, blowing snow and shattered stone away as a massive figure rose from within the wreckage.

Kharik straightened slowly, ice clinging to his armor.

"That," he said calmly, "was clever."

Ryn's breath caught, a hint of both frustration and adjustment settled in.

"Back two," he said immediately. "He's setting something up."

Fritz obeyed, wind flaring as he slid back across the frozen ground, blade raised.

Kharik advanced at a measured pace, greatsword hanging loose in one hand. His gaze locked onto Fritz.

Ryn's focus tunneled in on his eyes.

There.

A flicker, aiming at Fritz's right shoulder.

The instant Kharik's pupils narrowed, Ryn reacted.

"High right—block!"

Then, Ryn caught the next move in horror. His eyes suddenly shifted downward towards the ground.

It was a feint the entire time.

"Shit—Fritz, dodge—!"

But it was too late.

Kharik's sword swung right past Fritz's shoulder and into the ground as cold detonated from beneath his feet.

Fritz barely had time to register the mistake before the ground exploded, a frozen spike ripped through the air, carving a brutal gash across his chest.

The explosion hurled him backward. Blood sprayed against the snow as he crashed hard, skidding to a stop near the wagons.

Ryn's heart stuttered.

"No—!"

Kharik didn't pursue.

He straightened slowly, watching Fritz struggle to rise, one hand pressed tight against his ribs.

Then, deliberately, he looked at Ryn and smiled.

"Got you, didn't I?"

"You watch the eyes," he continued calmly. "Good habit."

He tapped the side of his head with two fingers.

"But eyes can lie."

The words hit harder than the blow.

Ryn's vision swam.

He'd relied too much on his Blessings. On his Techniques. On patterns, tells, and systems that assumed the enemy played by them.

He'd ignored the first fundamental of combat.

The opponent.

Fritz was on the ground. His rainbow glow flickered unevenly around him, a sign of decreasing MP. Blood soaked through his tunic, dyeing the snow in crimson.

Kharik exhaled once, almost bored.

He shifted his grip, greatsword settling onto his shoulder as he took a step forward.

Ryn inhaled once. He knew Fritz wouldn't be able to recover in time.

So he'll buy him some more.

[Aquila - Burst]

He stepped in front of Fritz, boots crunching into the snow, broken arm tucked tight against his side as he raised the blade with his good hand.

He dropped a coin near Fritz, an insurance.

"…Hah," Kharik let out softly.

He lowered the greatsword just enough to rest its edge against the snow.

"You're persistent," he said mildly, "I'll give you that."

Kharik looked back at Ryn, interest unmistakable now.

"Most don't have the resolve to stand before death," he continued. "But you…look like you've seen it countless times before."

"Strange. But it'll be over soon."

Ryn didn't answer.

With a single step, Kharik cleared over thirty meters to approach Ryn.

[Aquila] flared, and the world snapped into razor clarity. A single line of light cut across his vision.

Ryn followed it.

Steel rang as his blade met the greatsword and redirected its momentum. Even so, the impact reverberated through his body, but he held his ground.

Kharik's brow lifted slightly.

Ryn didn't give him time to comment.

He slid along the next path, pivoting inside the follow-up swing to deliver one of his own. The cut was shallow but drew blood all the same, though he couldn't linger as the next strike was coming.

A low and brutal swing meant to blow right through Ryn's body and crush his bones.

A new path appeared.

Ryn stepped over it, boots skidding as he jumped backward to create distance.

Then, Kharik shifted.

Ryn's vision flared.

This time, there wasn't just one path, but dozens—lines of light branching outward in every direction, each one equally insistent.

Ryn chose one light flaring just a fraction brighter than the rest.

He committed.

Kharik's blade moved.

And the world proved him wrong.

The greatsword didn't follow the path Ryn had prepared for. It cut across instead, a correction mid-swing that shattered the chosen future in an instant.

Too fast.

Ryn twisted anyway, his blade coming up on reflex—but the impact still landed. Pain detonated through his side as frost-laced steel tore past his guard, it just barely carved into his flesh before he activated his insurance.

[Star's Path]

FWOOP.

He was right back to where Fritz was, collapsing on one knee beside the marked coin half-buried in snow.

Blood hit the ground in thick drops.

He coughed once, sharp and wet, clutching at his side as cold spread inward from the wound.

[HP: 60/150]

Ryn steadied his breathing.

In.

Out.

He forced his focus back onto the paths of light.

Then…the battlefield dissolved.

He realized quickly what had happened. He wasn't seeing the paths anymore—he was inside them.

—

Fritz died.

A clean strike too fast to stop. The greatsword cleaved through wind and bone alike. The Hero Candidate collapsed without a sound.

—

Another path.

Kharik stopped playing and shattered the ground beneath the wagons, collapsing everything at once.

Carnage.

—

Again.

And again.

And again.

The futures layered on top of each other, no longer separate. He saw them all, overlapping outcomes bleeding together in a kaleidoscope of violence.

In every path—

Someone died.

Sometimes Fritz.

Sometimes the captives.

Always—

There was carnage.

But in every possible future…

He lived.

The realization hollowed him out.

The same ending, reshuffled endlessly, like a deck that only had one suit.

Why?

His hands trembled at his sides, his blade hung uselessly in his grip as his mind spiraled deeper into what Aquila was showing him.

Why does it always end like this?

The question slipped free before he realized he'd thought it.

He looked up…to face a pitch black sky. Around him, a mountain of bodies as the city lay aflame.

And he was standing alone at the end of it all…just like before.

"Why…," he whispered, voice cracking. "Why am I always the one who survives?"

"If this is all there is…" Ryn whispered, voice trembling as the Evernight loomed at the edges of his mind.

"Then what was the point of coming back?"

For a moment, he just wanted to look away.

To close his eyes, to stop seeing, to let the world move without him.

That would be easier.

That was what the Evernight wanted.

Something twisted in his chest.

No.

He straightened slowly, breath still uneven, eyes still burning with impossible light.

No.

There was a reason.

A cruel one.

He had been made to see these paths because someone had to. Because someone had to stand at the crossroads and refuse to accept that carnage was the only answer.

If he looked away now—

Then nothing would ever change.

Ryn swallowed hard, forcing his gaze back into the blinding matrix of futures.

"I see every way this goes wrong," he continued, louder now, resolve bleeding into his words.

"Every death. Every failure. Every misery."

His vision throbbed. Pressure mounted behind his eyes, hot and unbearable.

"But I won't turn away."

He continued.

"I won't pretend not to know."

Fritz heard the words through the ringing in his ears. For a moment, he thought he was imagining it.

Ryn stood in front of him, motionless.

Then, he saw it.

Blood was running down Ryn's face. Not from a cut.

From his eyes.

"Ryn—" Fritz tried to say his name, but his voice cracked halfway out.

Ryn didn't respond.

He was staring straight ahead, posture rigid, as if bracing against something only he could see.

His shoulders trembled, like a man straining to lift a weight far heavier than his body allowed.

The pressure built all at once, like the world itself was leaning inward.

Ryn's eyes flared.

The familiar dark of his pupils collapsed, shrinking down to pinpoints as his irises flooded with an impossible dark blue.

Then—

His pupils emerged again, blooming outward—

As bright as a glowing star.

A ripple tore outward from Ryn's position, subtle but unmistakable, almost like the world had been forced to acknowledge him.

For the first time since the fight began, Kharik had stopped smiling.

Ryn lifted his head fully now.

"I see it," he said quietly.

Blood fell from his lashes as he blinked, futures burning behind his gaze.

"All of it."

His final declaration rang out loud, carried by the frosted winds for all to hear.

"I will save them."

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