The moment it left his hand—
The corridor **howled.**
—
Fire didn't just burst outward.
It compressed.
Collapsed inward—
Then detonated forward in a spiraling torrent, wind feeding it, sharpening it—
Turning it into something far denser than a simple blast.
—
A **drilling inferno.**
—
The stone beneath it cracked as it tore forward.
The walls blackened instantly.
The air itself burned.
—
Behind—
The boy's eyes widened.
"…What the—?!"
—
The man stumbled back a step.
"…That's not— that's not—"
—
Because it wasn't.
—
That wasn't a spell meant to wound.
It was meant to **erase.**
—
And it was already on Draven.
—
No time to dodge.
No space to sidestep.
—
The corridor was too narrow.
—
The fox girl felt it immediately.
Her head snapped toward the attack—
"…!?"
—
Even the rune master's grin sharpened slightly.
—
Because this—
Was the finish.
—
The inferno swallowed the space in front of Draven.
For a moment—
He disappeared inside it.
—
**BOOOOOOM**
—
The explosion tore through the corridor.
Fire burst outward, wind ripping it apart into a violent storm of heat and force.
Stone shattered. Dust and smoke filled everything.
—
Silence followed.
Thick. Heavy.
—
The boy's breath caught.
"…Sir…?"
—
No answer.
—
Only smoke. Only heat.
—
The man swallowed hard.
"…He… he's not—"
—
The fox girl didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Her eyes were locked on the smoke. Sharp. Unblinking.
—
Because something—
Was wrong.
—
The rune master's smile didn't fade.
But—it didn't grow either.
—
"…Did that do it…?" he muttered.
—
Then—
**Clink.**
—
Soft. Faint.
—
But clear.
—
The boy's eyes snapped wide.
"…No way…"
—
Another step.
—
**Clink…**
—
A shape moved within the burning haze.
Slow. Unhurried.
—
Then—he stepped out.
—
Draven.
—
Unburned.
—
Not a mark on him. Not a single trace of damage.
Only his clothes were gone; if he had been burned, it had already healed.
—
The remaining chains around his arms hung loosely—swaying slightly.
—
His eyes—
Calm. Flat.
—
Like nothing had happened.
—
Silence dropped.
Heavy. Crushing.
—
The mage's pupils shrank.
"…What…"
—
The rune master's grin finally faded.
"…You've got to be kidding me…"
—
Draven, now naked, rolled his shoulder slightly. Like brushing off dust.
—
Then he looked at the mage.
"…That was it?"
Flat.
No anger. No strain.
—
Just—
Disappointment.
—
The air shifted again.
—
Because now—it wasn't the mage's power filling the corridor.
It was him.
—
And for the first time—the mage took a step back.
Instinct.
—
Draven stepped forward.
—
**Clink.**
—
Slow. Inevitable.
—
"…You're done."
Not loud. Not dramatic.
—
Just a statement.
—
And somehow—that made it worse.
—
Behind him—the fox girl exhaled slowly.
"…Tch…"
A faint smirk tugged at her lips.
"…Guess I didn't need to worry."
—
The rune master snapped back into motion. Wind exploded around him—
"…Don't just stand there—!"
—
But it was already too late.
—
Because Draven had stopped walking.
—
And now—he moved.
—
Not fast.
—
The space between them—vanished.
—
One moment—distance.
The next—Draven stood in front of him.
No build-up. No warning.
Just—there.
—
The mage's eyes widened.
Instinct screaming too late.
His body still low, hands mid-motion from casting—
No guard. No defense.
—
Draven's leg moved.
—
A single step. A shift.
Then—he swung.
—
**CRACK**
—
His foot connected with the side of the mage's head.
There was no resistance. No struggle.
—
Just impact.
—
Bone shattered instantly.
The force didn't stop at the surface—it went through.
—
The head tore apart—blood, bone, and flesh bursting outward in a violent spray.
—
The body remained for half a second—still kneeling.
Then collapsed.
—
**THUD**
—
Silence. Heavy. Absolute.
—
Draven lowered his leg. Calm. Unhurried.
The body at his feet didn't move. Wouldn't ever again.
—
Behind—
The boy stood frozen. "…What…" Barely a whisper.
The man's knees nearly gave out. "…He… didn't even…"
Didn't even try. Didn't even fight.
—
On the other side—the rune master stopped. Completely.
Wind still swirling faintly around him. Fire flickering along his arm.
—
But his eyes—
Locked onto the body.
Then—slowly—to Draven.
"…No…" Low. Disbelieving.
—
The fox girl straightened slightly. Lightning fading just a little around her claws. A small exhale leaving her.
"…Told you."
—
Draven didn't look at any of them. Didn't acknowledge the kill.
His gaze shifted—back—to the rune master.
This time—there was no distraction. No second opponent.
Just him.
—
**Clink.**
—
A step forward.
The air grew heavier.
Because now—there was nothing left to delay it.
—
Draven spoke. Flat. Cold.
"…You're next."
—
The silence didn't last.
The moment the mage's body hit the ground—the rune master moved.
—
Not forward. Back.
—
Damnit, he thought, as wind exploded around him—a violent burst that kicked up dust and ash.
—
And in the next instant—he turned and ran.
No hesitation. No pride.
Just survival.
—
His figure blurred down the corridor—disappearing into the shifting paths of the maze.
No one followed.
No one moved to stop him.
Because they all understood. That wasn't their objective.
—
The rune master's retreat echoed faintly through the maze—footsteps fading, wind dispersing. Gone.
—
And just like that—the fight ended.
—
The remaining figures didn't stay either.
The other three—the ones who had stood behind, watching, waiting—
They ran.
Not even a glance back. Not even an attempt to recover the body.
Just turned—and fled down separate paths.
—
Because they had seen enough.
The corridor emptied.
Only four remained.
—
The fox girl exhaled slowly. The last traces of lightning faded from her arms. Her shoulders lowered slightly.
"…Not worth it." Calm. Certain.
—
The boy watched the last of them disappear. Then clicked his tongue. "…Yeah…"
A small shake of his head. "…They made the right call."
—
A brief pause. Then his eyes sharpened again. He turned forward—toward the deeper maze.
"…We need a safe zone."
—
The man swallowed. Still shaken, still catching up. "…Y-yeah… before time runs out…"
—
The fox girl stepped forward. Her ears twitched once—then focusing.
Mana flowed again. Subtle. Controlled.
She closed her eyes for half a second—then opened them.
"…This way." Her voice was steady.
"…There's a concentration point ahead. Stronger than the rest." A pause. "…That should be one of the zones."
—
Draven didn't respond. He simply moved.
—
**Clink.**
—
Stepping past the body without a glance. As if it didn't exist.
The others followed quickly. The boy just behind him. The fox girl slightly ahead—guiding.
The man trailing, trying not to fall behind.
—
Draven's footsteps slowed. He bent slightly, eyes scanning the scorched, broken form at his feet.
The boy's mouth opened, then closed again, unsure. "…Sir…?"
—
Draven didn't answer. His movements were deliberate.
His hands moved over the scorched remnants at his feet, then shifted.
He tugged at the charred remnants of the mage's clothing.
A slow, methodical motion—first the shorts, then the shirt.
They came away in pieces, burned and tattered.
He picked them up, inspecting briefly.
Then slid them on—shorts first, adjusting the fit. Then the shirt, pulling it over his shoulders.
Each movement precise. Calm. No hurry. No hesitation.
—
The boy's eyes widened slightly. "…Sir… you're… putting them on?"
—
Draven didn't respond.
He finished adjusting the fabric over his frame, shrugged lightly.
Then—without another glance—he stepped forward.
**Clink.**
Back into the maze.
—
The fox girl exhaled softly, ears twitching. "…Unfazed," she muttered, almost to herself.
The boy and the man trailed, keeping pace as the path ahead narrowed, winding deeper into the labyrinth of shifting stone and shadow.
Time was running out. The safe zone waited.