The cold light of the early morning sun pierced through the faded windowpane. They touched Rin's skin like icy fingertips, enough to make her slightly shiver.
Rin jolted, her instinct immediately seeking warmth. She reached down, waving her hand back and forth over the mattress, trying to find the blanket that… clearly was covering her last night. But there was nothing. Only the cold wood and an indefinite void.
Her eyelids were heavy as lead, her mind dense with persistent drowsiness. Rin didn't want to wake up. Her hand still groped hopelessly, touching one cold space after another.
Finally, the sleepiness swallowed all effort. Rin curled up, like a small larva, rolling towards the corner of the bed where a remnant of warmth still lingered. The plank creaked under her weight, the dry sound ringing out like the wood's complaint.
A moment later, when she forced herself to turn, every joint in Rin's body protested simultaneously. A dull aching sensation, like rusted shards grinding against each other. The messy sleeping posture, the narrow bed, all combined to make her feel sluggish, as if she had just been awakened from a fragmented sleep.
Rin narrowed her eyes, her eyelids gradually opening. The pale wooden ceiling appeared, more familiar than three days ago. She blinked a few times, noticing how the old wood grain ran along, as if whispering the room's story.
Yes, it had been three days since her group moved to the village right next to the main labyrinth of Floor 5. Three days… and countless other times before that. It was always the same.
They always missed the Boss conquest. Be it Floor 1, Floor 2, or the subsequent floors. Trouble struck, in all shapes and forms, and opportunities just slipped through their fingers.
Rin let out a very soft breath.
She pushed herself up to sit, her head still slightly sluggish. It felt like her brain hadn't fully booted up yet, but her body was already dragged into reality.
Rin turned her face toward the window. The morning light streamed in, cool and clear, silently reminding her that a new day had begun, regardless of whether she was ready or not.
Lost in vague thoughts, Rin forced herself to cut through the procrastination and get out of bed.
The moment her bare feet touched the metal-cold wooden floor, she instantly froze. Cold… and immediately followed by something soft, completely contrary to the previous sensation.
Rin lowered her eyes.
'Ah… the blanket.'
It was there, crumpled into a ball, as if it had deliberately escaped the bed while she was sleeping. The very thing she had been groping for all morning lay right by her feet, silent as evidence of her familiar carelessness.
Her ash-gray eyes rested on the blanket for a few seconds. Her gaze was flat, like a pool of silver, neither surprised nor annoyed. Just… empty. A lake of absolute stillness.
Rin said nothing.
She nudged it with her toe, kicking the blanket back onto the bed. A neat, emotionless motion, almost automatic, like a habit repeated so often it required no thought.
Rin raised her hand to her head, lightly scratching her coal-black tomboy hair. The short strands stuck to her forehead, carrying the dampness of sweat and a fragmented sleep. She swept them up, her fingers grazing past the corner of her lips, a casual movement of someone still immersed in drowsiness, yet strangely soft.
Rin's shoulders slightly shook, as if shedding the heaviness still clinging to her bones after waking up.
The air around her was still thick with the smell of wood and old blankets. The scent of a lazy morning. The scent of a room still warm after a long sleep.
Rin took a deep breath, the cold air flooding her lungs, making her instantly sober, then gently let out a soft exhale. The heat dissolved into the void, carrying away the remnants of fatigue.
And then… she had to start facing a new day.
Rin's slender and almost pale fingers gently traced the air. They drew a thin, thread-like path of movement, so precise there was no extra beat. Immediately, the menu panel lit up, the pale blue light casting onto her indifferent ash-gray eyes, making them look colder, deeper, as if they had just been redrawn with a thin layer of ice.
Rin operated quickly. So familiar it felt like her hand was acting for her consciousness. Just a few taps, confirmations, and equipment.
A faint halo wrapped around her body. It flashed and vanished instantly, like a gust of wind passing over water in a moment too short to catch.
The light receded.
The ash-silver armor gradually appeared, so seamless it looked as if it were growing from her very skin. The breastplate was thin and flat, reflecting the metallic light of the moon confined to the room.
The two shoulder guards were compact; they were small with somewhat sharp rounded edges, not ostentatious but like a blade hidden in a sheath. Beneath the armor, a dark cloth under-suit tightly bound her figure, exposing a slender neck and collarbones as clean as a delicate cut.
Two split hip plates draped down to mid-thigh, the silver flowing with every movement. Black leather gloves wrapped around her wrists and the back of her hands; thin ash-silver steel strips ran like cold veins along her forearms between the joints.
The matching metal boots were tight, unexcessive, and conveyed a sense of weight, yet Rin's footsteps were so light they were almost soundless.
Rin slightly lifted her chin. Her coal-black tomboy hair gently swayed, lightly sweeping back, allowing her ash-gray eyes to be fully exposed under the just-extinguished light, giving a subtle coldness between her eyebrows.
The armor seemed born to be worn by her.
Or perhaps… it was Rin herself who made the entire armor look alive.
Rin's hands lightly clenched, feeling the rough leather and cold steel touching her palms as she rested her hands on the hilt of Ashen Edge at her hip. That familiar sensation spread along each finger joint, firm, neat, and snug, as if the sword were born to be held in her hand.
A silent sense of pride subtly echoed in her chest. Not loud. Not outwardly displayed. But enough to make her inhale deeper than usual, as if swallowing that feeling whole.
Rin had paid a heavy price in blood and sweat to obtain Ashen Edge on the early floors, battles so tense her wrists burned, times when misjudging a single beat meant near death. Thinking back, she unconsciously ran her thumb along the edge of the hilt.
This sword… was not inferior to the weapons used by the Black Swordsman Kirito or the Flash Asuna. In fact, it was more suitable for her personality and fighting style than anything too splendid or flashy.
That was enough to make the corner of Rin's lips curl up faintly, a gesture so delicate that she wasn't even sure if she truly smiled.
Maintaining her indifferent mood mixed with a hard-to-name satisfaction, she reached out, pushed the door, and stepped out of the room. The sound of the hinge rang softly, decisively.
The ash-silver of the armor and the steel light from Ashen Edge clashed, creating a small sound like a metallic breath greeting the morning.
Rin slightly lowered her head. Her steps were slow, but carried a certainty, and there was something… gentler, more leisurely than usual in her pace.
Rin had just walked down the inn's main lobby, her steps slow but steady, when a voice suddenly rang out, cutting across her steady stride like a malicious blade.
"Late again? You really… never bother to pay attention to the time, do you?"
The voice was sharp, cold, and deliberately emphasized each word as if wanting everyone present to hear. The air in the lobby paused for half a beat, interspersed with silence was a long, lingering tone of sarcasm, like the shadow of a knife sweeping across the table.
Rin slightly frowned reflexively, as if squinting against an unexpectedly harsh light. She turned toward the owner of the voice, a pink-haired girl whose appearance was meticulously maintained to the point of near-ostentation, her hair lightly curled just right, her thin makeup subtly bothersome, and every feature seemingly placed perfectly to attract attention.
That very look of deliberate perfection always made Rin feel chills down her spine, because that glossiness contained no truth. The opponent's eyes were always the same: falsely calm, annoyingly polite, and at the bottom was a scrutinizing, somewhat contemptuous look, as if Rin existed only for her evaluation.
It was no surprise that Rin couldn't muster an ounce of goodwill. And it was no surprise that the pink-haired girl always treated Rin as if she were a bothersome crumb, a small thorn annoying enough just to pass by.
Ironically… that discomfort was entirely mutual.
"Alright, Miya. Rin didn't mean to. Besides… we're still very early compared to the assembly time."
The words rang out right next to Miya, warmer, softer, as if to soothe the sharp thorns that had just appeared in the lobby. It was the voice of a tall young man with strikingly bright blonde hair; his heavy armor and enormous shield nearly covered half his body, so much so that without looking closely, one knew he was the type of Tanker who would risk his life standing in front when things went wrong.
Miya glanced at Towa. It seemed like a meaningless movement of her eyelids, but in that glance was a discomfort disguised under a thin layer of politeness. Of course, Rin saw everything. Small details like that… never escaped her ash-gray eyes.
"You're really too kind, Towa." Miya subtly curled her lip, her voice thin enough to sound like a harmless joke, but it seeped into Rin's ears like a cold needle. "Keep covering for her like this… she'll overstep her bounds before you know it. Right, Kajiro?"
She tilted her head, shifting her gaze to the person sitting next to her. A slight movement, yet full of intent, as if wanting to pull another accusation into the air.
Kajiro looked up. He had the kind of appearance that would make any young girl glance twice, balanced features, deep eyes, a composed and slightly indifferent demeanor.
But Kajiro didn't reply to Miya.
He showed no attitude.
He didn't defend anyone.
He didn't take sides.
He just looked at Rin. A short, flat gaze, containing assessment, a non-hostile, non-friendly type of observation… as if briefly categorizing what kind of person she was in a very short few seconds.
Then that gaze left, light as if it had never existed.
Kajiro turned back, remaining silent, leaving behind an area in the lobby smooth as still water… but carrying the lingering aftertaste of sarcasm and scrutiny subtly creeping beneath the surface.