The man's breath came ragged, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth as he glared.
"Trader… I thought you don't get your hands dirty," he sneered, voice strained with both pain and annoyance.
"Oh, of course I don't." The Trader's voice rolled smooth and mocking, his tone playful as if amused by a child's tantrum. He tilted his head, eyes glowing faintly violet beneath the haze of purple smoke that curled around his face. "But sadly…" His lips curled into a grin. "…I must insist you leave this time."
The man in the suit let the pipe in his hand clang against the ruined floor. Slowly, deliberately, he lifted a finger and pointed it at the Trader, his mocking grin widening, blood staining his teeth.
"Or what? You think you can defeat me?" His tone dripped arrogance, but there was a faint rasp in his breath.
The Trader's chuckle was low, carrying the weight of someone who knew far more than he was letting on. He shook his head, clucking his tongue.
"Oh no, no… I don't. Well—that's what I would have said if you were in perfect condition." His violet eyes scanned the man like a surgeon dissecting a patient: the deep gashes across his torso, the burned flesh where an arm was missing, the tremor in his stance. "But you're far from perfect now, aren't you?"
The Trader smirked, lifting a hand as though brushing invisible dust from his coat. "Still… I'm not here to fight. I'm not threatening you. Think of this as a simple piece of advice."
With deliberate slowness, he raised a finger and pointed skyward.
The man frowned, annoyed by the theatrics, and lifted his gaze. For a moment, the night sky was calm. Empty. Then—
A streak of silver tore through the heavens. A blazing spear of light cut across the clouds, descending at impossible speed. The sheer pressure of the aura made the air itself tremble.
The man exhaled sharply, a bitter sigh. He glanced back at the Trader, expression tightening.
"I see… I guess you're right. I already got what I wanted." His gaze flicked toward the unconscious Isaac and Trish, and his grin sharpened like a blade. "I'll just deal with that next time."
He opened his mouth, and the glow of a tattooed magic circle flared upon his tongue. "Until we meet again." His words were cold, final.
Then—he bit down.
The circle blazed to life, runes flaring as light enveloped him. His form shattered into fragments, and in the blink of an eye, he was gone.
Moments later, the silver streak struck the academy grounds. The earth cracked, a shockwave tearing through the air as dust and rubble exploded outward.
From the crater, a man emerged—tall, his long silver hair flowing in the wind. His sharp eyes gleamed with killing intent. His aura was suffocating, vast, like an ocean threatening to drown everything around him.
The S-rank awakener.
The Silver Slasher.
His gaze swept the ruined scene, fury etched in every line of his face.
"Yo, silver beauty."
The Silver Slasher turned sharply. The Trader leaned casually against a wall, waving like an old friend greeting him at a bar.
Mark's eyes narrowed. His voice was low, controlled. "What are you doing here, Maverick?"
"Oh, really now?" Maverick clicked his tongue in mock disappointment. "So unprofessional, Mark."
The purple smoke covering his face shifted, swirling back into one of his earrings. At once, his true face was revealed—a striking man with combed-back black hair, and piercing violet eyes that gleamed with amusement.
"Mark," he said smoothly. "We agreed. You only address me as the Trader."
The Silver Slasher's jaw tightened. He looked away, unwilling to engage. Maverick had always been like this—ever since their academy days, an insufferable thorn in his side.
"Maverick," Mark said through clenched teeth. "It doesn't matter. Where's the intruder?"
"Wow, straight to business. Not even a 'hi,' not even a 'how have you been.' Cold, cold, cold…" Maverick sang mockingly.
"Maverick." Mark's voice snapped like steel.
"Fine, fine." Maverick raised his hands in mock surrender. "You just missed him." His tone shifted slightly, more serious now. He pointed lazily toward Isaac's unconscious body. "But don't worry—your daughter's safe. This gentleman here handled things."
Mark's sharp gaze fell upon Isaac. His eyes narrowed, calculating. "…Is that so?"
Before he could press further, Maverick's earrings pulsed. The purple smoke surged back, swallowing his face like a mask of shadows.
"Times up." He waved cheerfully, stepping back as the smoke swallowed him. "Always a pleasure, old friend. I'll leave the cleanup to you. Don't disappoint me."
And just like that—he was gone.
Mark exhaled sharply through his nose, jaw clenched. "Tsk. Always leaving me with the mess…"
He stepped toward Isaac and Trish, crouching slightly as he examined the unconscious boy. For a moment, his lips curled faintly.
"This kid stopped the intruder… interesting."
---
Isaac's Dreamscape
"…Where am I?"
Darkness. Endless, suffocating. Isaac floated weightlessly, lost in a void with no sound but the echo of his own voice.
Then—
A silhouette appeared. Tall, broad-shouldered, yet cloaked in shadow. The air shifted, heavy with familiarity.
Isaac's heart clenched. His lips trembled. "…Teacher? Rodvil… is that you?"
The figure's voice answered, calm, steady. "Even after all this time, you still call me Teacher."
Isaac's throat closed. His chest ached as memories crashed into him. He remembered how life felt meaningless after Maya's death . He lost hope and tried to end it by sneaking into an a class gate he almost succeeded of not for Rodvil pulling him from despair, saving him from being ripped apart by monsters . Training him. Teaching him how to fight, how to live again when he had given up on life. And then… the day he woke alone, with only his teacher's sword and a note:
Live well, kid. You'll get a second chance. Walk the right path. Don't make the same mistake as your foolish teacher.
Isaac's fists trembled. "…How? How are you here? Where are we?"
Rodvil was silent, his face unreadable in the shadows.
Isaac's voice cracked, desperation bleeding through. "Teacher, please… answer me!"
Finally, Rodvil spoke, urgency cutting through the calm. "We don't have much time." His eyes gleamed faintly through the darkness. "You need to discover what your—"
Static. His words fractured, devoured by the shattering void. Isaac reached forward, panic clawing at his chest.
Rodvil's voice grew louder, forcing its way through the cracks. "You're going to the Spider Grave dungeon, aren't you? To find the cure… to save your sister."
The void trembled violently. Cracks spread like lightning through glass, splitting the darkness.
Rodvil grabbed Isaac's hand. A burning pain surged through Isaac's skin as light carved itself into his flesh. A scar, shaped like a sword, seared into him.
"Listen, kid." Rodvil's voice roared against the collapsing void. "I left you a gift in that dungeon. This mark is the key. Trust yourself!"
The cracks tore wide. From within the abyss, an enormous eye opened—ancient, monstrous, its gaze piercing straight into Isaac's soul.
"Teacher!!" Isaac screamed as Rodvil shoved him away. he wanted to scream but his lungs felt empty he wanted to move his body bit he felt powerless he kept struggling until His body was swallowed in a flood of light.
---
Isaac's eyes flew open.
Blinding white light stabbed at his vision. His chest heaved as he struggled to breathe.
Slowly, his vision adjusted. A roof. White walls. The sterile smell of herbs and medicine. He was in a hospital.
"Oh… I'm… in a hospital…"
He shifted slightly—only to feel a weight clinging to his arm. He turned his head.
Maya.
Her soft hand gripped his own with desperate strength, her knuckles pale from holding on too tightly. Her face was tear-streaked, her eyes swollen and red, exhaustion etched into her features.
Isaac's chest tightened painfully. Guilt gnawed at him. With his free hand, he gently brushed a tear from her cheek.
Her eyes fluttered open. For a moment, she froze—staring at him as though she didn't believe he was real.
Then she broke.
"Mmh—!" She lunged forward, hugging him with everything she had, burying her face into his chest as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.
Isaac froze, unsure of what to do. Slowly, almost awkwardly, he raised his arms and held her.
His voice was soft, trembling with emotions he couldn't put into words.
"…It's okay. I'm fine now."