Metal echoed.
Vinh didn't wait.
The moment the door shifted—
he moved.
Silent.
Fast.
The corridor stretched ahead.
Dark.
Cold.
No hesitation.
His body reacted before his mind could catch up.
Step.
Turn.
Breathe—
Pain.
Sharp.
From inside.
Vinh staggered for half a second.
"…Not now…"
Something was wrong.
Not outside.
Inside.
His chest tightened.
His veins burned faintly.
The wind around him flickered—
unstable.
He pushed forward.
A presence.
Behind him.
Vinh turned—
Too late.
A Dejteo stood at the end of the corridor.
Watching.
No sound.
No signal.
Then—
it moved.
Fast.
Vinh raised his blade.
Impact.
Metal collided.
The force pushed him back.
"…Tch—!"
Too strong.
No—
not stronger.
Just—
more stable.
Vinh moved again.
This time—
he didn't think.
Wind burst out.
Uncontrolled.
His body twisted—
The dagger struck first.
Then—
the short blade followed.
A clean cut.
The Dejteo collapsed.
Silence.
Vinh stood still.
Breathing hard.
"…I…"
His hand trembled.
Not from fear.
From exhaustion.
Too fast.
Too heavy.
"…This power…"
His vision blurred for a second.
"…It's killing me…"
A sound.
More steps.
Not one.
Many.
Vinh looked up.
Figures appeared at the far end.
Then—
more.
"…No way…"
They didn't rush.
They advanced.
Slow.
Certain.
Like they already knew—
he wouldn't escape.
Vinh clenched his teeth.
"…Then move."
He ran.
The corridor twisted.
Turned.
Shifted.
His footsteps echoed—
uneven now.
Every breath burned.
The wind around him flickered again—
weaker.
"…Not enough…"
Behind him—
they were still coming.
No panic.
No hesitation.
Just pursuit.
Dead end.
Vinh stopped.
The wall in front of him—
cracked.
A faint vibration ran through it.
"…What—"
Too late.
The ground beneath him broke.
Falling.
Darkness swallowed everything.
No sound.
No movement.
Then—
impact.
Silence.
Vinh coughed.
"…Ugh…"
His body refused to move.
Pain spread slowly this time.
Heavy.
Deep.
He forced himself up.
The space around him—
different.
No metal.
No light from above.
Only darkness.
Still.
"…Where…?"
His voice barely echoed.
Then—
he saw them.
Two shapes.
Resting.
Unmoving.
A sword.
Long.
Clean.
Not damaged.
Not rusted.
And beside it—
a dagger.
Smaller.
Darker.
Vinh stared.
"…Why are these here…?"
No answer.
He stepped closer.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Something felt—
off.
Not dangerous.
Just—
wrong.
He reached out.
His hand hovered for a moment—
Then—
touched the dagger.
Nothing happened.
No light.
No reaction.
"…Just normal…?"
He picked it up.
It felt—
light.
Too natural.
Like it belonged there.
His grip tightened slightly.
"…Strange…"
Then—
the sword.
He grabbed it.
Heavier.
But balanced.
Perfectly.
"…What is this…"
Still—
nothing.
No power.
No change.
Only—
silence.
Vinh exhaled slowly.
"…So they're just weapons…"
A pause.
"…Right?"
A sound.
From above.
Steps.
Closer.
They found him.
Vinh turned.
His body still weak.
His breath still uneven.
The dagger in one hand.
The sword in the other.
No power.
No advantage.
Only choice.
He stepped forward.
This time—
he didn't run.
If he ran… he would die.
If he fought… he might die faster.
But this time—
he chose to fight.