Klint made his bed slowly, smoothing out the sheets with more care than necessary. It wasn't something he used to do in his previous life, yet now it felt… right. He didn't understand why, but the action came naturally to him, almost instinctive in a way he couldn't explain.
"Good morning," Karter said as he stepped into the room, his tone calm as always, as if nothing in this world could truly surprise him anymore.
Klint clicked his tongue lightly before stretching his arms. "Tch… good morning, old man. What's on the menu for breakfast?" he asked, his voice casual, though there was still a faint edge to it.
Karter couldn't help but laugh. "Well, little prince, we've got bread… some bread… and get this—one more bread," he said with a grin, pausing slightly before adding, "and beans."
Klint stared at him for a moment, completely unimpressed, his expression barely changing as he processed the answer. "…You're joking," he said flatly, though part of him already knew the answer.
"I wish I was," Karter replied without hesitation, his tone making it clear that he wasn't exaggerating in the slightest.
A faint irritation crossed Klint's face as he let out a quiet breath, clearly dissatisfied. "Is that seriously all you get here?" he asked, the question slipping out before he could stop himself.
"It's all we get in Vermulus," Karter said calmly as he took a seat. "One of the cities on this floor. If you want something better—eggs, meat—you'll have to travel three nights, and even then, it won't come cheap."
Klint exhaled slowly, his thoughts drifting for a moment to his previous life, where meals like that were normal, almost taken for granted. "…Whatever. It'll do," he muttered as he sat down across from him.
They began eating in silence, the sound of utensils faint against the quiet room. The bread was dry, simple, but when Klint took a bite of the beans, something shifted slightly within him, subtle yet noticeable.
A warmth spread through his body, unfamiliar yet comforting, lingering just long enough to catch his attention. He paused for a moment, his expression changing slightly before he forced it back to normal.
Across from him, Karter noticed the reaction almost instantly, his eyes narrowing just a bit as he observed. "It's that good?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
Klint scoffed lightly and continued eating as if nothing had happened. "No. It's terrible," he replied, his tone dismissive, though the answer came a little too quickly.
Karter chuckled quietly but didn't push it further, instead leaning back slightly as his expression shifted. "So… any changes from yesterday?" he asked, his tone more serious now.
Klint's hand slowed for a fraction of a second before continuing, a subtle pause that could easily go unnoticed. "…No. Nothing," he said, the lie coming out naturally, even to himself.
Silence lingered between them for a moment before Klint leaned back slightly, his gaze drifting toward the book from the night before. "There's something I wanted to ask," he said, his tone shifting.
Karter didn't respond immediately, but his attention was already fully on him, waiting for the question.
"That book… and everything you knew. Where did it come from?" Klint asked, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched for any reaction.
A brief pause followed as Karter exhaled slowly, as if deciding how much he should say. "Some things shouldn't be told… but since you're part of this household now, I suppose I can say a little."
Klint remained silent, listening closely, his focus sharper than before as he waited for the answer.
"I was born on the third floor and worked as a hunter for most of my life," Karter began, his voice steady. "I climbed quickly—faster than most—and people started recognizing me because of it."
He paused briefly before continuing, his tone not changing, yet carrying more weight than before. "Eventually, I reached the eighth floor, something not many manage to do."
Klint's eyes narrowed slightly, clearly aware of how significant that actually was, though he didn't interrupt.
"I had a family," Karter continued. "A wife and a child. Then one day… they died, and everything changed from that point on."
Silence filled the room, heavier than before, as the words settled between them.
"I was blamed for it," Karter said calmly. "Framed. There wasn't even a proper trial. The decision was made before I could even speak."
He rested his hand against the table, fingers tapping lightly as he continued. "They threw me down… from the eighth floor all the way back here."
Klint frowned slightly, leaning forward just a bit as he processed that. "…From the eighth floor?"
Karter nodded faintly, his expression unchanged. "Yes. The emperors decided it. The guards of each floor all agreed, and once they do, it becomes absolute."
A brief pause followed before Klint spoke again, his tone sharper now. "So they just decided you were guilty, and that was it?"
"Yes," Karter replied simply, without hesitation or emotion in his voice.
Klint leaned back slowly, his expression tightening slightly as he thought about it. "…And you don't know who actually did it?"
Karter shook his head. "No. And I may never know."
Another silence followed before Klint spoke again, this time more directly. "…So you just accepted it? Did nothing?"
Karter gave a faint smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "When they decide your fate, it's already over. There's nothing you can do at that point."
Klint looked at him for a moment longer, clearly not convinced, before turning his gaze away. "…We'll see about that," he said quietly.
Karter didn't respond.
Later, Klint stepped outside, the air feeling lighter than the night before, yet still carrying something beneath it that he couldn't fully ignore. Without wasting time, he made his way toward the Hunters' Headquarters.
The building was filled with movement and voices, hunters preparing for the night ahead, their conversations overlapping in a constant low hum. Despite that, something about the atmosphere felt tense, as if everyone expected something to go wrong.
"There you are—we were just talking about you," a voice called out.
Klint turned to see Arthur standing there, arms crossed, a faint grin on his face as he looked directly at him.
Klint glanced behind him before pointing at himself. "…Me?" he asked, slightly confused by the statement.
Arthur laughed lightly. "Yeah, you. I knew something was off about you from the start. You said you're from the eighth floor—not surprising. But taking down a Lurker on your first night?"
He shook his head, clearly impressed despite himself. "That's not normal. Took me ten nights just to figure out how to even see one properly, let alone kill it."
Klint didn't react much, his expression staying neutral. "I got lucky," he said simply, though his tone didn't fully support the claim.
"Yeah… maybe," Arthur replied, though he didn't sound convinced at all. "Anyway, you here for a quest or something?"
"A quest?" Klint asked, tilting his head slightly as the idea caught his interest.
Arthur nodded. "People get tired of certain monsters. Sometimes it's survival, sometimes revenge. We take requests, deal with them, and get paid for it."
Klint shook his head slightly. "I came here for something else," he said before explaining what happened the night before—the Merchant, the choice, the object.
He told him everything.
Except the dream.
Arthur listened without interrupting, his expression barely changing as he processed it. "So… you made a deal with it," he said after a moment, his tone carrying no surprise.
Klint watched him closely. "…You know about it?" he asked, narrowing his eyes slightly.
"Enough," Arthur replied before pausing briefly. "Do you know what 'consciousness' are?"
"No," Klint answered without hesitation.
Arthur held his gaze for a moment longer, clearly not fully convinced, but chose not to push further. "Alright," he said simply.
A brief silence followed before Klint spoke again. "So what are you doing here?"
Arthur crossed his arms. "We're heading out tonight. Something's wrong. Monsters aren't acting like they should," he said, his tone turning more serious.
Klint's eyes narrowed slightly. "What do you mean?"
"Some of them are working together," Arthur explained. "The Wayrender and the Lurker have been seen moving as a pair, and there's a chance a Luminarch is involved as well."
Arthur's expression hardened slightly. "That shouldn't happen. There are rules to this world… and monsters don't break them on their own."
Klint went quiet for a moment before speaking again. "You never fully explained Resonance," he said, his tone thoughtful.
Arthur smirked faintly. "Power isn't something you gain. It's something you align with. The more you understand it… the closer you get to it."
A brief pause followed before he spoke again. "Come with us tonight," he said, his tone firm.
Klint didn't hesitate. "…Fine," he replied.
Night fell quickly, the streets growing quiet as the air became heavier with each passing moment, pressing down in a way that felt unnatural. The group moved carefully through the outer blocks, their steps controlled and deliberate.
"Stay sharp," Arthur muttered, his eyes scanning the surroundings.
Klint didn't respond, but his senses were already active, sharper than before. Something was close. He couldn't see it yet—but he knew it was there.
They turned a corner and stopped almost immediately.
A figure stood ahead, completely still, its surface shimmering unnaturally as if it couldn't maintain a stable form for more than a second.
Arthur's expression darkened. "…Reflecta," he said quietly, his tone immediately shifting.
The creature tilted its head slowly, its face shifting as it mirrored whoever looked at it, its form distorting with each passing second.
From the shadows behind it, something else moved—a Lurker, but different, faster and more aggressive, its body twitching unnaturally as it crawled forward.
"They're together," Arthur muttered, his stance tightening as he prepared himself.
The Reflecta moved first, its body splitting into multiple mirrored forms that surrounded them from every direction, each one slightly different, just enough to confuse the eye.
Arthur stepped forward to engage, but the Lurker struck from the side with sudden speed, forcing him to block as the impact pushed him back.
"Damn it—!" he cursed under his breath as the pressure built.
The reflections closed in rapidly, surrounding him as his focus split between too many targets at once, creating a brief moment of hesitation.
That moment was enough.
The Lurker lunged again, faster this time, catching him off guard as the strike connected and sent him crashing to the ground.
Klint moved.
No hesitation.
The world sharpened instantly, every movement slowing just enough for him to process what was happening in front of him with unnatural clarity.
The reflections weren't all real. One of them was slightly off, slower, just enough to stand out once he focused on it.
Klint stepped forward and struck directly at it, the impact causing cracks to spread instantly across the real body as the mirrored forms shattered along with it.
The Lurker turned toward him, reacting too late as Klint shifted his body just enough to avoid its attack by the smallest margin possible.
Then he countered. One clean strike, precise and efficient, ending the fight before it could continue any further.
Silence followed.
Arthur lay on the ground, breathing heavily as he stared up at Klint, disbelief clear in his eyes. "…What the hell was that?"
Klint didn't answer.
Because for the first time—he wasn't sure if that was him.
Then Klint froze mid-step, his body tensing as something shifted inside him. A sharp pain struck his chest without warning, sudden and violent, forcing the air out of his lungs as his vision flickered for a split second.
"…Something is wrong," he said, his voice lower than before, strained as he tried to stay standing despite the pressure building within him.
Arthur reacted instantly, rushing toward him with urgency. "What's wrong? What's happening?" he asked, grabbing his shoulder, his expression tightening as he looked at Klint more closely.
Klint didn't answer immediately. His thoughts spiraled, scattered, uncontrollable, as a single image forced its way into his mind—mirrors. Endless reflections, overlapping, distorting.
Then—
They appeared.
The same fractured mirrors the Reflecta had created moments ago began forming around them again, emerging from nothing as if reality itself was being pulled apart and reshaped.
Arthur's expression changed instantly.
Not confusion.
Recognition.
His grip on Klint tightened slightly as his eyes sharpened, locking onto him with something far heavier than suspicion. "…What are you exactly…?" he asked, his voice low, fear mixed with anger.
Klint forced himself to stay conscious, his breathing uneven as the pain pulsed through his chest. "…I can explain," he said, barely managing to form the words.