After hearing Akira's offhanded addition, a ripple passed through Alfia's otherwise calm heart.

A flash of shock stirred her mind, fleeting yet undeniable. She subconsciously turned her head, her gaze lingering on the back of the boy walking beside her.

Two months?

That was all it had taken for him to rise from a mere rookie to someone capable of crushing a Level 4 monster.

A feat that not even the arrogant elites of Orario could easily boast of.

Such talent…

It was comparable to the tyrants who once ruled this land.

No—perhaps even more terrifying than them.

"You've reached this level in just two months…" She muttered, unable to hide the curiosity in her tone. "Kid, what secrets are you hiding?"

There was no longer the cold edge in her voice. Instead, there was something softer—an inquisitiveness, a trace of intrigue.

Akira came to a stop. Standing this close to Alfia, he could feel something… off. Despite her upright posture and noble demeanor, there were small cracks in her mask.

Pale skin. A wan face. A sense of fatigue hiding behind her regal bearing.

The coldness that she exuded wasn't just aloofness—it was shielding something fragile. Wounds hidden beneath a warrior's pride.

She was strong, yes but also delicate. A contradiction that made one instinctively want to protect her.

Still, Akira clicked his tongue and smirked.

"Auntie, that's pretty shameless of you. Asking someone to spill their secrets just like that?" He looked back, grinning smugly.

Without breaking stride, he reached for the sword at his waist and unsheathed it with a smooth motion.

His arm flexed slightly as he flicked the blade. A razor-thin flash of silver burst through the air.

Slash! Slash!

A sharp slash carved through the passageway, slicing through the necks of several small monsters in one breath. Their heads flew clean off, spinning like ghastly projectiles as blood sprayed across the dungeon walls.

From behind, Alfia's forehead throbbed and veins visibly popped. Her hands, which had been clasped elegantly in front of her, curled into tight fists.

If this kid weren't so ridiculously talented...

If she hadn't already acknowledged him as someone with the potential to rival—even surpass—the former champions of Orario...

She would've knocked him unconscious right there and then.

In the past, her hand chop had flattened even Ottar. This brat would be no exception.

Her eyelids twitched. And then, her lashes fluttered lightly. With slow, deliberate motion, she opened her eyes—just slightly.

One gray. One green.

Heterochromatic and sharp, they glimmered like gemstones—full of weariness, wisdom, and something older than time itself.

She looked directly at Akira for the first time.

As she suspected, he really was just a kid. A half-elf, to be precise. There was still an unmistakable trace of childishness in his face.

Despite everything, her lips curved into a faint, bemused smile.

"Calling a young woman 'auntie' so casually… truly disrespectful." She said. "That's not how good little boys behave."

She paused, then added teasingly, "Besides, you really are a little devil, aren't you?"

"Huh?" Akira scoffed. "I think you're the rude one here."

He turned sideways to face her. But just as he was about to clap back further, his gaze locked on something… unexpected.

"...Wait. You have heterochromia?"

His eyes lit up. He spun around and began walking backward, keeping his gaze locked on her face like a curious child who'd discovered treasure.

His expression was full of wonder. "That's so cool… Damn, I wish I had eyes like that. They're seriously awesome."

Alfia blinked, utterly thrown off.

Was she… recognized?

Her footsteps slowed ever so slightly.

Perhaps this city hadn't completely forgotten them after all.

A flicker of warmth stirred in her heart. The past shimmered in her memories like sunlight on rippling water.

Akira took another step closer, peering into her eyes.

"It's really beautiful." He whispered with genuine envy. "If only I had those cool eyes... I'd be unstoppable."

A chill passed through Alfia's heart like a sudden winter breeze. She stood frozen.

Her face contorted into a speechless grimace as the corners of her lips twitched uncontrollably.

What the hell is this brat saying?

Her nerves were stretched thin.

The kid had no filter. Her patience, forged through countless battles and disasters, was beginning to crack.

Like a disturbed witch, her voice suddenly sharpened, "You… cough cough cough—!"

But just then, she clutched her throat. A metallic taste surged into her mouth, and she stumbled forward, coughing violently.

Her body shuddered.

"Hey—Oi! Are you okay?!" Akira's expression changed instantly, all teasing wiped clean from his face.

He rushed forward, panic creeping into his tone.

From his waist, he grabbed his canteen, uncapped it in one motion, and brought it to her lips. With his other hand, he patted her bare back gently but urgently.

"Don't force yourself! Drink some water!"

Alfia frowned. She brushed the canteen away, spreading her palm—blood smeared crimson across her glove.

The black gauze over her clothing grew darker, soaked in red. Her face, already pale, lost the last trace of color.

Still, without opening her eyes, she reached out and grabbed the hand that held the canteen.

"…Stop taking advantage of me."

The words came out between heavy breaths, tinged with shame, annoyance, and perhaps… just a hint of embarrassment.

Akira froze. His left hand, which had been mid-pat, halted midair—just a fist's distance from her shoulder.

"…What do you mean 'taking advantage'?" He muttered in disbelief. "You're out here slandering me with zero evidence."

He sighed and continued, voice softer now, "If you didn't look so pitiful, I wouldn't even bother helping you."

"…Drink the damn water already."

Alfia reluctantly took the canteen. She brought it to her lips and sipped slowly. The cool water flowed down her throat, relieving some of the pressure and calming her breath.

After a few moments, she let go of his hand and straightened herself once again, resuming her elegant composure as best she could.

Akira let out a long sigh. Looking at her pale, fragile figure, he no longer felt like arguing. She looked like one bad joke away from collapsing again. He couldn't bring himself to pick a fight with someone like that.

"…Fine, I give up." He muttered, rubbing his temples.

He adjusted his expression into something gentler and offered, "You sure you're alright? If you want, I can carry you to the nearest treatment center."

Then, as if to preempt any protest, he added firmly, "And just so we're clear, this isn't about taking advantage of you. I just want to get you patched up faster so you can stop suffering."

But Alfia didn't reply.

Only silence followed.

No words.

Just the faint roars of distant monsters echoing down the tunnel.

Akira tilted his head.

"…Oi. You alive?"

Still nothing.

He waved a hand in front of her expressionless face.

"C'mon, just squeak if you're still breathing."

(End of Chapter)

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