They did not celebrate their recovery. In the Tower, restoration was never considered victory—it was merely the correction of an error. Arin stood still, flexing his restored arm once, then again, confirming its flawless condition. There was no stiffness, no delay, no imperfection. Yet his expression remained unchanged, because what truly mattered was not the restoration of flesh, but the lesson engraved into it. Loss had occurred once. That fact would not be forgotten.
Kael adjusted more openly. He blinked several times as his restored vision settled, depth returning, clarity sharpening. He rolled his shoulder and let out a quiet breath, a faint smirk forming on his face. "…Feels strange," he muttered, "…but I'll take it." His tone carried relief, but beneath it lingered something harsher, something colder—something that had taken root after their near death.
Arin had already moved on.
Testing came next.
He raised his hand without a word. Space responded instantly, bending under his will as his ability activated. This time, however, his intention was not destruction. It was preparation. A connection formed, distant and absolute, reaching toward a place where even existence seemed suppressed—the bottom of the ocean within the World of the Dead. The pressure there was beyond comprehension, a force that crushed everything equally without bias.
The link stabilized.
Then the portal opened.
For a brief moment, the world seemed to freeze, as if reality itself hesitated.
Then it collapsed into motion.
Water surged forward under terrifying pressure, not exploding outward, not spreading, but disappearing entirely as it was drawn into Arin's subspace. The force, the velocity, the weight—nothing was lost. Everything was preserved exactly as it existed at the moment of entry.
The portal closed.
Silence followed, immediate and absolute.
Kael stared at the empty space where the distortion had existed, his expression momentarily blank as his thoughts struggled to align with what he had just witnessed. "…You stored that?" he asked slowly.
Arin exhaled once, his breathing steady. "…Yes."
There was no need for further explanation. The implication was obvious. What had once been a single, fleeting attack had now become something else entirely—captured, preserved, and waiting.
"…You can release it again," Kael said, his voice quieter now.
Arin did not deny it. "…Yes."
A brief pause settled between them before he added, "…Twice a day."
Limits still existed. Cooldown remained. But limitations were no longer obstacles. They were parameters to be managed.
Kael let out a low breath, a grin forming despite himself. "…That's not normal."
Arin remained indifferent. Normality had no value here. His ability was no longer simple spatial manipulation. It had evolved into control over timing itself. Destruction no longer needed to be created in the present—it could be prepared in advance, stored, and released at the exact moment it would be most effective.
That made it far more dangerous.
Kael stretched slightly, the brief ease in his posture fading as something sharper replaced it. His gaze drifted toward the distant forest, his expression hardening. "…So," he said quietly, "…we're going back."
Arin's answer came without delay. "…Yes."
There was no discussion. No hesitation. Both of them understood.
The forest was not merely a hunting ground. It was where they had failed, where they had been broken, where they had been forced into retreat. That fact remained unresolved. And unresolved matters in the Tower did not disappear.
They waited.
Until they were answered.
They left the cathedral without another word. The town continued its controlled rhythm around them, but neither of them paid attention. Their focus had already shifted forward. Their steps were steady, unhurried, yet filled with quiet intent.
This time, they were not returning as survivors.
They were returning to correct a mistake.
The forest greeted them with the same suffocating silence as before. Shadows stretched between twisted trees, and distant movements hinted at unseen life. But Arin and Kael did not slow. Their path was direct. Their purpose was clear.
They did not search.
They remembered.
The cliff appeared before them, unchanged.
And below it—
The camp.
Arin stepped forward and stopped at the edge. His gaze settled downward, calm and unwavering.
There.
The hobgoblin.
The same one that had broken them.
The same one that had reduced them to something barely alive.
It stood among the others, unaware, unchanged, alive only because it had not yet been corrected.
Kael's grip tightened slightly, but he did not move. He understood without being told. This was not his battle.
Arin raised his hand.
Space opened.
But this time, it was small. Controlled. A narrow distortion formed before him, no wider than necessary. There was no overwhelming presence, no visible force gathering.
Only precision.
For a brief moment—
Stillness.
Then—
Release.
The water surged forward.
Not as a wave, not as an explosion, but as a concentrated burst of force. It moved faster than sound, carrying pressure that did not belong to this world. The distance vanished instantly.
The hobgoblin did not react.
It did not understand.
It did not have time.
The impact erased it completely. Its body ceased to exist before the sound of destruction could even arrive. The force continued forward, tearing through the ground, ripping apart anything in its path before dissipating as suddenly as it had appeared.
Silence returned.
Nothing remained of the hobgoblin.
Not even fragments.
Kael exhaled slowly, his gaze fixed on the destruction below. "…That's…" he paused briefly, "…unfair."
Arin did not respond.
Because he was already thinking ahead.
Inside his subspace, the ocean remained. Endless. Pressurized. Waiting. What he had released was insignificant compared to what still existed within. The destruction could be measured, controlled, divided, or unleashed entirely.
His ability had changed.
It was no longer a single attack.
It was a reserve.
A stored catastrophe.
Arin lowered his hand, his expression calm as ever.
"…This is enough," he said quietly.
But even as he said it—
Both of them understood.
This was only the beginning.