The moment we stepped onto Floor 21, Zethara betrayed me.
Not metaphorically. Not symbolically. Personally.
Back then, when it was me, Kael, Zeref, Keiji, and Luna, this place was hell.
Real hell.
The kind where you're counting cooldowns like prayers and wondering which one of you was scheduled to almost die this time.
Perfect teamwork.
Near-flawless rotations.
Trauma bonding.
Now?
I was sitting on a boulder.
Eating cake.
Soft. Fluffy. Sweet cake.
An ogre warrior charged, armor clanking like a badly assembled fridge, and Oreo casually stepped forward.
Not aggressively. Casually. Like he was inconvenienced.
The ogre slammed its club down.
CLANG.
The sound echoed.
Oreo didn't move.
He tilted his head. Slowly. Judgingly.
Then he flicked his tail.
The ogre flew.
Not staggered. Not knocked back.
Flew.
Armor plates peeled off midair like dramatic confetti.
