The moment my feet hit the ground, I summoned my grimoire.

  It flickered into existence before me, floating effortlessly, its dark cover pulsing with a slow, rhythmic thrum. The single eye embedded in the front blinked open—groggy, sluggish—before snapping to full awareness. It watched me, watched the tunnel.

  Bobo landed beside me without a sound. His tail flicked once. His ears twitched. He crouched low, eyes narrowing at the darkness ahead.

  He felt it too.

  Something was here.

  I held my breath, listening.

  The silence was thick. Heavy. The kind of quiet that wasn’t really quiet—the kind that pressed against your skin, against your mind. A hollow stillness, too perfect to be natural.

  Then—

  Scrape.

  A faint shift against stone.

  Distant, but not distant enough.

  I inhaled slowly, forcing myself to think. Options.

  The tunnel stretched forward into the unknown. Pitch black. No light, no visibility.

  I had two choices.

  First: The Divine Eye of Origin.

  It would show me potential, scan the world for possibilities. It had always been my guide—helping me see paths, helping me understand.

  But right now?

  Right now, I didn’t need possibilities. I didn’t need a guide.

  I needed an executioner.

  I closed my eyes.

  The Abyssal Eye of Ruin.

  I exhaled.

  And then—I opened my eyes.

  Everything snapped into existence.

  One moment, there was nothing—just endless, suffocating darkness. The next—I saw everything.

  Not just the tunnel. Not just the path ahead.

  Everything.

  The world was no longer a void. Every surface, every stone, every tiny imperfection in the rock was laid bare to me.

  The walls weren’t just solid structures anymore—they were weaknesses waiting to be exploited.

  My gaze flickered across the tunnel, and instantly—my mind processed all of it.

  A jagged outcrop along the right wall? Brittle. Weaker than the rest. One well-placed strike could collapse that entire section.

  A formation of stalactites above? Some thinner, more fragile—one precise impact could send them crashing down like a spiked deathtrap.

  Even the ground beneath me wasn’t perfect. Tiny, near-invisible fractures in the stone hinted at natural instability. I could use that.

  And then I noticed something else.

  Not just the terrain.

  Not just the battlefield.

  The enemies.

  I turned my head slowly—and I saw them.

  They weren’t human. Not even close.

  Skeletons.

  Not just one. Not just two.

  A wave of them.

  Hundreds.

  Spines twisted unnaturally, limbs held together by dark energy, moving in eerie synchronization. Some walked upright, their empty sockets glowing with flickers of ghostly blue. Others crawled on all fours, jagged bones scraping against stone.

  And they were all coming straight for me.

  I exhaled.

  My grip on the grimoire tightened.

  This wasn’t like training. This wasn’t Rhyzar standing over me, grinning while I struggled through exercises.

  This was real.

  No resets. No stopping. No second chances.

  Survive. That was the only rule.

  I felt something coil in my chest—anticipation.

  A slow smirk tugged at my lips.

  “All right,” I murmured.

  Bobo bared his teeth, dropping low into a battle stance. His golden fur bristled, claws flexing. He was ready.

  I adjusted my footing, rolling my shoulders.

  No hesitation. No holding back.

  I let the Abyssal Eye of Ruin take over completely.

  And then—

  I moved.

  I didn’t hesitate.

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  The moment the first wave closed in—I acted.

  Adrenaline Flow — activated.

  Heat rushed through Bobo’s veins. His heart pounded with excitement. The world sharpened; his senses kicked into overdrive.

  Harmonic Link — activated.

  The connection between Bobo and me snapped into place, tightening like a thread of pure instinct and command.

  Neural Acceleration — activated.

  The battlefield slowed; my thoughts accelerated.

  And with that—

  I took control.

  “Bobo—forward, left flank! Target the joints!”

  Bobo lunged like a blur of golden fury, claws tearing through bone with precise, vicious efficiency. His first swipe snapped a skeleton’s knee, sending it crumbling before it could react. His second strike dug into a ribcage, shattering it like brittle wood.

  The Abyssal Eye of Ruin guided my every call.

  I saw weaknesses—hairline cracks in femurs, misaligned vertebrae, stress fractures in skulls.

  I didn’t just see them. I commanded Bobo to destroy them.

  “Next one—upper spine, two strikes! Then disengage—behind you!”

  Bobo ducked, swiping upward in a brutal arc—CRACK. The skeleton’s spine shattered, and before the others could react, he was already gone.

  It was perfect.

  These enemies were weak.

  This was easy.

  For the first few minutes, we dominated.

  Every command I gave was followed to perfection.

  Every weak point I saw, Bobo exploited instantly.

  We weren’t just fighting—we were dismantling them.

  Until—

  Something changed.

  The skeletons kept coming.

  A dozen turned into two dozen.

  Two dozen turned into fifty.

  Fifty turned into a flood.

  At first, it didn’t matter. We adapted, cutting them down as fast as they came.

  Then—Bobo hesitated.

  For the first time, he didn’t listen.

  At first, it was subtle—a half-second delay, a missed window. But as the enemy numbers increased, that half-second became a full second.

  Then two.

  Then three.

  And suddenly—we weren’t in control anymore.

  Suddenly, Bobo wasn’t just fighting—he was reacting.

  And my orders?

  They weren’t wrong, but they weren’t right either.

  “Go left—no, wait—”

  Bobo had already moved. Too late.

  “Duck—!”

  He wasn’t ducking. He was pouncing.

  It felt off. Not because I was making mistakes, but because the battle moved too fast for me to keep up.

  Too fast for me to speak, too fast for commands.

  I saw Bobo faltering.

  His movements were still sharp. His strikes still landed. But I felt it—something was wrong.

  Then it hit me.

  I was slowing him down.

  It wasn’t just the number of enemies; it was me.

  Bobo wasn’t fighting on his own rhythm anymore—he was fighting on mine.

  And my rhythm was too slow, too different.

  I gritted my teeth.

  “Bobo, retreat—”

  But Bobo wasn’t retreating.

  He staggered, ducking low, tail thrashing. His fur bristled, stance changed. He was pushing forward, fangs bared, claws tearing through bone.

  Instinct.

  Bobo wasn’t just following me anymore.

  He was listening to himself.

  “Bobo, retreat—!”

  He ignored me.

  He rushed forward.

  Damn it.

  My commands and his instincts were colliding.

  I wanted strategy. He wanted battle.

  I saw it happening, but I couldn’t stop it.

  Too many enemies. Too many angles. Too much pressure.

  And then, I felt it—like drowning.

  Like being trapped underwater, lungs burning, limbs flailing, the surface just out of reach—but no matter how hard I kicked, no matter how desperately I tried to break free, a weight kept pulling me down.

  Bobo was slipping.

  He was still fighting, still throwing himself into the horde, ripping through bone like a force of nature—but his movements were slowing, his breathing turning ragged.

  No matter how many he shattered, more came.

  More.

  And more.

  Suddenly, he was getting hit.

  A clawed ribcage slashed across his side—he staggered. Another skeleton lunged from behind—I barely shouted in time for him to dodge.

  We were losing ground.

  We were no longer in sync.

  I clenched my jaw.

  “Bobo—back up! Now!”

  He growled.

  Pure, unshaken battle instinct. He was overflowing with adrenaline.

  Even as we were overwhelmed.

  He didn’t want to run.

  I gritted my teeth.

  This was bad.

  Really bad.

  I had to do something.

  Then—

  Something rushed past Bobo.

  Too fast.

  My eyes snapped toward it.

  A skeleton.

  Not just any skeleton.

  One that looked like it crawled out of a nightmare, slipping past him, heading straight for me.

  Shit.

  Panic shot through me.

  It happened too fast; a skeletal figure lunged, jagged bones gleaming in the dark.

  Too close.

  No time to think. I grabbed the first thing I could— a chunk of stone from the broken ground. A big one. My fingers clenched around it, but my grip was off. Too shaky, too desperate.

  I swung anyway.

  Crack—!

  The impact jolted my arm. The skeleton stumbled.

  The stone smashed its skull, shattering half of it.

  But it didn’t fall.

  It just snapped its broken skull around, empty sockets locking onto my face.

  I took a step back.

  But it didn’t stop.

  Its skeletal fingers clawed for my throat. I kicked it back, gasping, nearly losing my balance.

  A second one lunged.

  This was bad.

  Then a third.

  What was going on over there?

  They were getting past Bobo, one after another after another.

  They were coming for me.

  Bobo tried to turn back—he felt it, he knew—but it was too late. Too many pinned him down, forced him to keep fighting.

  I clenched my teeth.

  No choice.

  I kept searching for their weaknesses.

  I kept smashing heads.

  But I needed more.

  I activated Adrenaline Flow—on myself.

  A jolt shot through me. My body lurched into overdrive, every muscle tightening, senses sharpening. The world slowed—or maybe I sped up.

  No time to question it.

  I moved.

  Dodged. Countered. Grabbed another stone—slammed it into the nearest skull. I stomped down on a bony leg, sent my knee crashing into another set of ribs.

  They cracked but didn’t stop.

  None of them stopped.

  My adrenaline was high.

  Strength rushed through me, dulling fatigue, though my muscles burned.

  But they could still move.

  No time to stop, no time to complain, no time to give up.

  I tried to back away, gain space—but they kept coming.

  I needed more.

  I pushed Vital Surge into my body, and Harmonic Link to Bobo.

  I felt Bobo’s position, his movement, the battle raging around him.

  I tried to maintain control. I called him—tried to direct him. But it was too much.

  I needed to think faster.

  I pushed Neural Acceleration into both of us.

  Too much.

  Neurological overload.

  My brain worked too fast, taking in too much—too many enemies, too many movements, too many details to track, too many things to manage.

  My mind was racing, but my body couldn’t keep up. I was breaking.

  Skeletons lunged from the sides.

  Bobo tore through them, but they kept coming. One nearly bit me from behind—I barely dodged. Spinning on my heels, I smashed another skull with my stone, but the recoil jarred my entire arm.

  I was fighting.

  I was holding my ground, keeping it together with the thought that I couldn’t stop here.

  I couldn’t die here.

  But…

  My stamina plummeted. I was breathing too hard. My arms felt like lead.

  I was barely moving on raw willpower and borrowed energy. But the more I fought, the more I felt it—

  I couldn’t hold out.

  Everything was chaos.

  I needed to recover, fast. Vital Surge—activate again.

  A wave of relief washed over me. Fatigue ebbed, pain dulled. My body adapted, but then hunger struck.

  Not normal hunger—a gnawing, consuming hunger. Like my body was eating itself from the inside.

  Shit… Only now did I remember Bobo.

  I wasn’t the only one getting tired. I extended Vital Surge to him, too.

  His muscles flared back to life, but the moment I did, I felt it.

  It was too much.

  Bobo was hitting his limit.

  I was hitting mine.

  And the skeletons—

  They didn’t have limits.

  I was managing myself, managing Bobo, managing the fight…

  I was…

  One second, I was standing—

  The next, a bony fist slammed into my ribs.

  Bobo felt it. The instant I was hit, he reacted. His head snapped toward me. His entire body shifted.

  The hit wasn’t fatal, but it was enough.

  Enough to break my rhythm.

  Enough to leave me open.

  I choked on air, staggered back, felt another grab my arm—pull.

  I twisted free, but it threw me off balance.

  Another rushed in.

  I couldn’t dodge.

  Bobo rushed back, hard, fast, reckless, abandoning his vantage just to reach me.

  Something slammed into my side.

  Pain exploded through my ribs.

  The world blurred.

  I hit the ground, hard.

  Suddenly, everything worsened.

  Suddenly, it wasn’t just like drowning.

  I was drowning.

  My vision swam.

  The sounds of battle twisted into something distant, muffled—like I was sinking deeper, deeper into the dark.

  I tried to push myself up. My arms shook.

  I looked up—

  Bobo saw me fall.

  And in an instant—

  He lost it.

  Then I saw—

  Nothing.