The thought had barely formed in Serein's mind when the boy was struck by an orc's club and sent crashing into a row of shelves.
The monsters turned back to her, axes raised, one blow poised to split her skull in two.
Before she could react,a carton of milk came hurtling through the air, bursting across the orc's face. White liquid splattered over its tusks and snarling maw.
The boy staggered to his feet, swaying, clutching something bright red in his trembling hand.
Not a sword. Not a weapon.
An umbrella.
"Come at me instead!"
His voice cracked, trembling with fear, but his legs carried him forward regardless. He swung the umbrella wildly against the nearest orc.
It was useless, of course. The umbrella bounced off thick hide without leaving so much as a scratch. One orc wrenched it from his grip and flung him aside like a rag doll.
He crashed across the cashier's counter. Somewhere in the impact, the shop speakers screeched to life, blasting distorted guitar riffs into the chaos.
And still, he rose again.
Blood matted his hair, streamed down one cheek. His amber eyes trembled with terror, yet behind them burned something raw, something desperate, an ember of fire that refused to die.
Serein froze. She could not comprehend it. Why did he not run?
Serein stood frozen, baffled. He was nothing but a trainee Hunter, a child with no battlefield experience. Against a B-rank gate, he could not possibly survive.
Sensing her disbelief, he glanced her way. His expression wavered, every line of his face screamed that he wanted to abandon her, flee, survive. And yet something deep inside him kept his feet moving forward.
Was it guilt? That stubborn oath all Hunters took to protect the weak? An oath so few ever honored?
He clenched his teeth and hurled himself at the monsters again, armed with nothing but bare hands and sheer recklessness.
The orcs swatted him aside once more. His body slammed into a mound of shattered displays. Blood dripped in steady drops onto the floor.
Over the blaring music, a harsh voice tore from the speakers:
"I need a hero to save me now…
A hero will save me, just in time."
The pounding lyrics filled the air thick with blood and fear. And somehow, they stirred something long-buried inside Serein.
Her veins burned, as though echoing the first time she had stepped into a dungeon alongside the man she once mistook for a hero.
But he had not been a hero. A hero never abandons the helpless.
This boy was no hero either. He was simply a fool.
A fool—but a brave one.
And that was enough to awaken the Guide within her.
"Match your breathing!" Serein shouted before she realized it. Her own voice startled her.
Her legs moved without permission, darting through the orcs' swings, rushing toward him.
He blinked at her, dazed, not understanding a word. He had never known the touch of a Guide.
A club slammed into his stomach, lifting him off his feet. He vanished beneath a heap of fallen goods.
Damn it.
It was too late to turn back. The die was cast. Serein would not die the same death again.
This peaceful life she had clawed back—she would protect it. At any cost.
Serein threw aside her fear, released the power she had kept sealed for eight long years. Heat spread from her heart outward, the flow of levo igniting her veins like liquid fire.
She dug him out of the debris, pressing her palm firmly to his chest.
"Steady. Feel your breath. Feel your blood moving." Her voice shook but her command was sharp.
His levo was chaos. Turbulent, fractured, bleeding in all directions. She forced her own into him, lacing his wild current with the rhythm of her own.
"You…" He gasped, eyes wide, overwhelmed by the strange connection.
"Focus," Serein cut him off, gripping his back to push him upright. "Do you feel it? The flow?"
"Y-yes…" He stammered. Not from fear this time, but from the burning energy coursing steady through his limbs.
Hunter and Guide. Once levo was released, they're connected, became one rhythm, one heartbeat.
"Direct it to your arm."
As she spoke, she grabbed whatever junk lay at her feet—cans, bottles, scraps—and hurled them to slow the orcs' approach.
"Picture your weapon. Believe it's in your hand."
The orcs barely flinched at the objects bouncing against their hides. Her desperate distraction only enraged them further. Perhaps she had already inherited the boy's foolishness.
One raised its axe, steel flashing down toward her neck.
"Now!"
Or never.
Clang!
Flames sparked. A blade blazed into existence in his hand, intercepting the strike.
Yes.
Serein exhaled in relief. The boy, however, stared at the weapon in disbelief.
"How…?"
"Stand tall."
She shoved more of her levo into him, her own body trembling from the drain.
And he did. As if the wounds littering his body no longer mattered, he rose tall, blade ignited, eyes blazing.
"Fight, Hunter!"
Her cry poured strength into him. His fiery blade cut into an orc's chest. The strike was clumsy, hesitant, but the flames bit deep, searing flesh until the monster shrieked, convulsed, and collapsed into ashes.
Serein's eyes widened. She felt his levo flare through their bond—raw, immense, almost too powerful.
Her guiding was strong, but not divine. She could not raise an F-rank to an S.
Yet the boy's raw power surged far beyond what a trainee should possess.
But there was no time for questions.
The remaining orcs bellowed and lunged together, their shadows drowning his small frame.
"Left!" Serein commanded, extending her vision through him.
He obeyed instinctively, dodging the sweeping axe and driving his blade into another orc's gut. Flames erupted, devouring the beast until nothing remained but smoke and bone dust.
"What are you doing to me?" He growled between ragged breaths, pulling his flaming sword free.
"Follow my levo." Serein refused to explain further, pouring her focus into keeping him balanced, tethered.
Her chest burned. It had been over eight years since she guided anyone. Her body was shaking, lungs heaving.
But she kept the link alive.
Guiding him.
She would not let him fall.
He seemed to be finding his rhythm within the current of Serein's levo. His movements grew smoother, sharper, like steel being tempered in fire.
She could feel the flow of his levo loosening under her guidance, no longer wild, but still frightening in its raw force.
One by one, the orcs fell. Each corpse was devoured by the flames dancing along the boy's blade, until nothing remained but drifting ash.
The stench of burning flesh spread thickly through the convenience store, clinging to every corner of the air.
Serein's gaze never left him. One slip, and he could lose control. Her levo stretched out like threads of red, tethering their bodies together, every twitch of his muscle searing straight into her mind.
The boy Hunter fought on instinct alone. His sword swings were too wide, reckless, leaving gaping openings.
Yet before the orc's axe could fall, instinct twisted his body aside, driving the counterblow deep. Then he plunged forward again, deeper into the swarm.
Like a moth hurling itself into fire, blind to the inevitable end.
He grew quicker with each strike, each breath. His crimson hair flared wildly, buoyed by the pulse of levo.
Sliding low across the floor, he ducked between an orc's legs, sprang up behind it, and carved a brutal arc through its neck.
The last one collapsed. Through the haze of ash still swirling in the air, his figure emerged—panting, shoulders heaving, his burning-red hair alive like a flame refusing to die.
It was over. Finally, Serein could go home, sink into the quiet evening she had promised herself.
Except… no instant noodles.
Her eyes swept over the wreckage. The store was a ruin, groceries lost somewhere under the rubble.
Still alive—that was fortune enough. Fortune buried within misfortune.
A dry, broken laugh slipped past her lips. Forcing her thoughts into something resembling optimism, she drew her levo back into her trembling body.
It felt like dragging a long-rusted machine into sudden overdrive. Her veins screamed in protest, every breath stabbed sharp pain into her chest.
The boy crumpled to the ground. His chest heaved like a drowning man just dragged to shore. Wide-eyed, dazed, he looked up at her.
"Who… are you, really?"
Serein brushed the dust from her clothes, her voice steady as she stepped out into the night.
"Just an office worker."
Too calm. So calm it sounded like a lie, even to her own ears. But all she could do was hope it would be enough to silence him, to keep him from running to GIRD.
In the distance, sirens blared. Red and blue lights stuttered across the street as bystanders gathered—curious, not terrified.
Reinforcements. They would seal the Gate soon enough.
Time for her to vanish.
Pulling up the hood of her coat, Serein hunched her shoulders and slipped into the flow of the crowd.
***