Every door began to glow, light seeping through the gaps below, while explosions tore through the hotel, sending shattered doors and debris raining down onto Victor.
Sparks and flames spread rapidly to the adjoining rooms. The ceiling crumbled, and parts of the building collapsed into a pile of wreckage.
Victor scrambled, refusing to look back, abandoning everything in thought, and dove down the stairs.
The state of his body was pitiful, weighed down by pain. Even the healing potion could not restore his exhaustion.
Facing such a dire situation with an unprepared body, there was no need to think of anyone else, no matter their value. At this moment, nothing was more important than survival.
The vial he had stolen from Rasentiven had shattered almost completely in the chaos.
As he struggled to steady himself, gunfire erupted at the hotel's front door, mixed with screams of terror.
They were killing even the maids—a brazen massacre that left almost no room for escape.
The attackers had clearly prepared in advance, which made Victor recall his own weary return from Rasentiven.
'Since that day…'
Yet he had never seen Oliver again. The man had undoubtedly known this and intentionally withheld the information from Uncle Well, setting the stage for this disaster.
Victor clenched his fists.
There was no time to waste; every second now meant death. If they had prepared thoroughly, every exit could be under surveillance.
He looked around in desperation.
Smoke thickened, obscuring his vision. Breath came shallow and heated, lungs burning with the heat around him.
His darkened eyes began to blur, the effects of oxygen deprivation creeping in.
'No, no, no, no, no!! I can't sleep! No!'
His heavy body staggered through the burning corridor. He saw the front door open—a path free of flames but filled with the scent of blood.
His right foot stepped forward in despair. A collapsing wooden plank blocked the way, fanning the fire higher, and he fell into the blaze.
The floor could not bear his weight, creating a gap in the hallway, with debris blocking what little light remained.
Victor plummeted into a drainage shaft as pieces of wood threatened to crush him. A woman's arm reached out, pulling him clear of the falling wreckage.
Victor, unconscious, collapsed atop Selith. Surrounded by a stench, she dragged his limp body into a hidden passage, separated from the building's main layout.
Her heavy breaths mingled with sobs. Tears streamed down her sorrowful face, falling over Victor.
"Hic…No! Don't die! Victor… I'm… sorry for running away earlier. I… hic!"
"No need to apologize. I understand."
"Y-You… Victor!?"
His faint smile was mischievous as his eyes opened, taking in her sorrowful face, thoughts running deep.
He rose and surveyed his body. Waking so quickly seemed impossible; the previous events still felt like blurred memories.
'Could this be one of those abilities superior to others?'
'No… it shouldn't be a power. It must be an innate quality, not a random superiority.'
He spat out the strange taste from his mouth—bile mixed with a musty, familiar scent.
Moving through the damp area, he observed the greenish water, faintly illuminated, mixed with human remains dismembered in precise proportions.
Victor squinted, emotionless yet wary of Oliver Dengar.
'Filthy.'
Instead of anger or fear, he felt a cold, calm resolve.
'When I'm with Selith, my mind grows stronger, as if I can't allow myself to show emotion that would ruin my composure…'
It was a strange calm, yet empty, almost too profound to understand—a mental clarity wrapped in confusion.
The chill and heat of his body responded to his senses.
There was no more time. No more hiding. It was time to begin Mission Two. Victor reconsidered the events and Oliver's motives.
Oliver's strange desire wasn't simply to exploit Victor's ability to counter supernatural powers—it might be that Victor himself was the origin of everything.
He recalled arriving in this different world for the first time. After hours of trekking through the forest at night, a crow had swooped down, cawing and observing every event… except beneath Rasentiven.
A thought arose, untimely. Victor's dark eyes fixed on the woman beside him, her face distant yet resolute.
'She has always been Oliver's close observer.'
'…Never realized what I suspected from the start…'
Many times, she had been isolated from Victor, mentioning limits to her shadow abilities that reality contradicted.
Her loyalty, though, remained—shaping her warmth, her life.
Pure betrayal—a fitting metaphor.
'But could it really be so…?'
Oliver controlled everything, including the building's collapse. The dismembered corpses of priests were a sign. The gaps may lead to the underground zones controlled by the border forces.
'The collapse of New Fanrein!?'
'Destroying evidence of his own existence!?'
'Or the start of a war!?'
'No… it's all of it. He's using me to minimize risk in his plan.'
No strategy was more cunning than one where the planner need not act personally. Regardless of the Revolutionary Republic's stakes,
If Victor could alter the outcome or generate results aligned with Oliver's plan, what would he truly gain from these events?
There was still time before the arrival of the Crimson Empire—a choice he had made. After this, he would sever all ties and pursue the full truth about himself.
Resolving his thoughts without answers, he could not predict Oliver's actions, and his distrust of Selith grew.
Standing still, he noticed her peculiar gaze. He inhaled deeply, releasing his tension.
The air felt heavy, and a pair of eyes watched him. Victor displayed urgency, masking deep exhaustion.
"That gap could put us in danger. We need to escape quickly."
"Just follow this path for a few minutes and we'll reach the underground hall. Let's hurry… You're okay, Victor?"
"Yes, let's go. I need plenty of ammunition."
Victor faced forward. Selith's worried eyes followed, focused on the same direction.
They continued until they reached the end, seeing light as when Victor had jumped from the drainage pipes. Below, water from various drains glowed faint green.
He widened his eyes at Oliver's grand design.
'What is the true intent behind all of this…?'