Blood and Salt Water

Flames crackled softly in the quiet ruin.

Corpses lay scattered across the floor in every direction—some riddled with puncture wounds, others charred black as charcoal. Bennett stepped carefully through the carnage, his face an impassive mask as he checked for anyone still breathing. Most were already stone dead, but occasionally, one would attempt to play possum.

"P-please, just pretend you didn't see—"

Thwack.

A nameless gang member whose face was half-scorched tumbled backward, a heavy steel bolt planted squarely between his eyebrows. Bennett narrowed his eyes as he looked past the body. The gang leader who had orchestrated the raid on Happy Money lay sprawled nearby, his chest blown wide open by a lethal puncture wound.

If I recall correctly, there was someone who looked like a knight among them as well.

The instant the thought crossed his mind, Bennett's senses flared, and his gaze snapped toward the floorboards.

Crash!

A burst of brilliant blue flame erupted through the splintered timber. A blade wreathed in vicious Aura cleaved violently through the empty air, but Bennett had already leapt back the split second before the floor gave way.

"Dharma Ahkhar!"

With the fanatical battle cry distinctive to the devotees of Ra'al, a muscular warrior surged from the wreckage. Though he lacked the full plate armor characteristic of his station, the sight of an Elite-class knight charging forward draped in blazing blue Aura was terrifying enough on its own.

Th-th-thump—

Bennett fired a salvo of bolts infused with Psionic Energy from his Dwarven repeating crossbow. Just as the trigger clicked, his ears twitched. Beyond the knight rushing him from the front, a faint presence was creeping up from behind. It was a step so light that even with Detection pushed to its limits, he could barely catch it. Had the assailant not lightly dragged a boot sole against the grit of the floorboards, he might not have noticed until the blade was already at his throat.

Pincer attack. Without a moment's hesitation, Bennett pivoted on his heel to face the new threat.

Two shadows were bounding toward him, crouched low to the ground. They were clad from head to toe in peculiar, tightly bound dark garments that obscured their faces, but their silhouettes clearly distinguished a man and a woman. Both wielded twin blades.

Thump!

Recognizing the incoming projectile, the male assassin slashed outward. He moved with supreme confidence, as if swatting aside a mere crossbow bolt were child's play. But the moment steel met iron—

Boom!

The explosive kinetic force of the psionic charge was far greater than he had anticipated, blasting him clean off his feet. As the man twisted desperately in midair to roll with the impact and minimize the damage, Bennett lined up the Shooting Star to finish him off. Seeing her partner completely exposed, the woman frantically hurled one of her blades.

"Ghk!"

The man failed to deflect the second shot; a bolt drove straight through his skull. The woman's thrown dagger ricocheted harmlessly off Bennett's reinforced armor plating. But in that brief exchange, the knight had closed the gap.

A wave of scorching, bone-chilling intent surged against Bennett's spine. Channeling Psionic Energy throughout his frame, he launched himself backward into the air.

KABOOM!

The shockwave blasted Bennett through an interior partition, sending him tumbling across the debris-strewn floor. Though he had shielded his vital points with Psionic Energy and curled into a tight roll to disperse the impact, he couldn't negate the damage entirely. Every muscle in his body throbbed with a dull ache, but he rose to his feet without so much as a grimace. Compared to being cleaved in two by an Aura blade, a few bruises were nothing.

A deep gouge marred the frame of the Shooting Star where it had parried the fringes of the Aura strike, but its mechanisms remained in working order. Keeping the crossbow in his left hand, Bennett drew his matte-black Chainsword with his right.

Whirrr!

A soft, sunset-colored radiance bled along the segmented teeth of the blade, rising to meet the roaring blue Aura. This time, Bennett did not yield an inch. Staring at the bizarre energy radiating from the mechanical sword, the knight's brow furrowed in disbelief.

"What is this strange power? Don't tell me you worship another deity as well?"

Bennett ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had no intention of answering, but there was still one more nuisance to handle: the female assassin who had just lost her partner.

Sh-sh-shk—

Having watched her comrade die, she abandoned any thought of close-quarters combat. Keeping her distance, she began flicking strange projectiles through the air. They were slender, needle-like rods of cold metal with lethal, tapered points—nothing like the throwing daggers commonly seen on the Oscar Continent. Bennett sidestepped, dragging the knight directly into the trajectory to serve as a makeshift shield.

The metal darts clinked harmlessly off the knight's armor.

"You cheeky bastard!"

Enraged, the knight swung his greatsword in a wide horizontal sweep, but Bennett was already slipping out of range.

In the blink of an eye, Bennett vanished from the knight's reach and reappeared directly before the woman. Her eyes went wide at the impossible burst of speed. Even in her panic, her wrist snapped forward, loosing another dart from point-blank range—

Bennett's hand snatched the metal rod out of the air. It was a slender iron needle, heavy and lethal at its tip. Understanding its balance in an instant, he reversed his grip and flicked his wrist. The projectile traced a razor-thin line through the air and buried itself deep between the woman's eyes.

"Guh...!"

Her knees buckled like a marionette with severed strings, and she collapsed face-first onto the floorboards.

Thud.

Without pausing to watch her fall, Bennett spun around and gripped the Chainsword with both hands.

As their blades collided, the knight's expression twisted in agony.

"What trickery is this?!"

With every clash of steel, a grotesque, screeching vibration grated against his auditory nerves. The sheer fury that had fueled his attacks began to curdle into cold dread, making it impossible to focus on the combatant before him. Worse still, Bennett's sword strikes were terrifyingly sharp and completely erratic. The sunset glow of the Chainsword sheared past the knight's defenses again and again, shaving away the radiant blue Aura with every pass until it flickered like a dying candle.

"Kh-argh...!"

It didn't take long for the knight's legs to give out. Covered in his own blood, Hank glared up at Bennett with venomous devotion burning in his eyes.

"D-Dharma Ahkha—"

Slash!

The knight's neck split wide open, his head lolling backward on a thread of sinew. But the torrent of blood erupting from the severed arteries did not splash harmlessly to the floor. Instead, it gathered into a solid mass and slammed directly into Bennett's chest.

"Ghk?!"

The impact felt like being struck by a sledgehammer, driving him backward several paces. And that was merely the opening salvo. All across the room, the blood pooling from dozens of slaughtered bodies began to hover in midair. Droplets coalesced into sinister spears, serrated blades, and heavy axes sculpted entirely of deep crimson gore.

Bennett hesitated for only a fraction of a second. Catching a faint presence outside with Detection, he launched himself through the nearest window.

Glass shattered under his boots as he landed on the exterior alleyway. Without missing a beat, he brought the Shooting Star up and aimed it straight at the reinforced back door.

Th-th-thump!

Heavy bolts splintered through the wooden panels, striking something on the other side. The instant the projectile found its mark, the swirling blood weapons pursuing him through the window lost their cohesion and collapsed into harmless liquid.

Sploosh—

A cascade of dark crimson doused Bennett from head to toe. Wiping the gore from his eyes without so much as a grimace, he marched toward the rear entrance of the Happy Money headquarters. Kicking through the perforated door, he found the source of the spell.

An old crone slumped against the wall, gasping raggedly for breath with a steel bolt buried deep in her chest. The strike had narrowly missed her heart, leaving her clingingly, painfully alive. As Bennett approached, she bared her teeth in a venomous sneer.

"...If you take my life, my disciples will track you to the ends of the earth. Do you really believe you can handle the wrath of our order?"

"A bit late for threats, don't you think?"

Thwack.

A second bolt pierced the crone's forehead. Her body shuddered violently for several seconds before slumping limp against the floor.

Leaving the crone where she fell, Bennett walked several paces farther down the corridor. A short distance away, a woman was writhing on the dirt, a bolt embedded in her spine. It was Zamora, clad in the ritual vestments of Ra'al's high priestesses. She clawed desperately behind her back, trying to reach the shaft paralyzed in her flesh, but her fingers could not bridge the distance.

Bennett stood over her and began searching her robes. Startled by his touch, she shrank away before shrieking with fanatical hatred.

"L-Lord Ra'al will never let this go unpunished! In the end, you will grovel on your knees before his majesty, begging for—huff?!"

Her voice cut out abruptly. Bennett's hand was pressing firmly against the front of her robes. More precisely, he was rifling through her inner pockets. After a moment, he drew his hand back, clutching a small, cold object.

It was a fragment—one strikingly similar to the relic he had encountered before. Yet it was not identical. While its outward geometry closely matched the anchor piece he had recovered previously, there was an unmistakable resonance within this one that felt distinct. After studying it for a brief beat, he slipped it into an inner pouch of his coat, then leveled the Shooting Star at Zamora's head.

Anticipating the end, she squeezed her eyes shut.

Bennett pulled the trigger.

Thwack.

"Ah...!"

Zamora's lips trembled in a silent gasp, then went permanently still.

Cancel mid-cast and re-trigger?

Curious about how the new mechanic functioned, Bennett tested the skill on the spot.

Step!

His body blurred forward at blinding speed, halted dead in his tracks the instant he willed the cancellation, and then surged forward once more on command.

"...Fascinating."

Satisfied with the result, Bennett turned and walked back into the Happy Money headquarters, heading straight down the narrow staircase leading into the basement.

Creak—

As the reinforced iron door of the storage room groaned open, Erika's eyes went round as saucers.

"Erika."

"B-Bennett!"

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Though he was drenched from head to toe in gore, she didn't care in the slightest. She threw her arms around him, burying her face into his coat.

"I'm so sorry. I just came to settle the family debt, and suddenly someone hit me from behind..."

Bennett patted her back gently.

He knew better than anyone that disaster often struck without rhyme or reason, completely detached from one's own choices. In this instance, Erika had simply had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

As Erika clung to him, a sudden shiver ran down Bennett's spine as the system's power flooded his veins. Feeling the tremor, Erika pulled back slightly, her expression filled with worry.

"Bennett, are you hurt somewhere?"

"No. I'm fine."

Calming her with a steady nod, Bennett reviewed the floating selection window before his eyes.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

After a moment's consideration, he chose Staggering Step. While the other two abilities might have had their uses for certain people, they held little practical priority for him right now.

"Could you lend me a Clean spell?"

"Ah, of course!"

A soft glow washed over them, magically scouring away the thick crust of dried blood clinging to their clothes and skin. Just as they turned to leave the headquarters, Erika paused and tugged lightly at his sleeve.

"Um, Bennett?"

"Hm?"

"...Did you know there's a heavy vault hidden in the back room?"

When the city guard finally arrived hours later to inspect the bloodbath, they discovered the syndicate's reinforced safe had vanished into thin air. Concluding that a rival underworld faction had carried out an exceptionally thorough purge, they closed the investigation without pressing the matter any further.

"Edgar, break time is over."

"What? But there's still two minutes left on the clock..."

"Up."

"...Yes, sir."

With a heavy groan, Edgar pushed himself up from the dirt. Yet the reluctance vanished from his face almost immediately, replaced by the grim determination of a seasoned vanguard.

"Bring it on!"

Thud!

He slammed his tower shield into the training yard floor, sending spiderweb cracks through the stone paving. Neither he nor Bennett paid the slight property damage any mind. Raising a blunt wooden sparring sword, Bennett's outline suddenly blurred.

"Hup!"

Even though he had witnessed it dozens of times, Edgar's eyes still couldn't track that terrifying acceleration. Operating purely on battlefield instinct, he thrust his massive shield outward to intercept.

Crack!

The instant the shield moved, the wooden blade struck home, throwing Edgar back on his heels. It was a single strike, yet the shock reverberating through his arms left his skull ringing so fiercely he could barely maintain his balance. Staggering, Edgar dropped to one knee in the dirt.

"You are an exceptional vanguard," Bennett remarked, lowering the wooden blade as his form solidified before the kneeling warrior. "However, you rely far too heavily on your natural physical gifts."

"W-well... that's fair, I suppose."

"Your weapon forms, particularly your shield technique, are practically substandard. A trained professional would have parried that strike without breaking a sweat. Yet you were thrown completely off balance."

Without warning, Bennett flicked the wooden sword in a lightning-quick feint. Edgar flinched, hastily raising the shield to guard.

Whack!

Failing to read the trajectory once again, Edgar took a solid rap to the shoulder.

"If you intend to keep carrying that slab of iron into higher-tier dungeons, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠practice until using it becomes second nature."

"Understood..."

Bennett glanced toward the far side of the courtyard. Kyle was standing beneath the shade of an awning, methodically executing thrusts and cuts through the air. He was drilling continuously to master the bizarre spatial properties granted by the Superpower Development Drug—specifically, extending and retracting the reach of his blade at will.

Checking the position of the sun, Bennett clapped his hands together.

"All right, that's enough for today. We enter the dungeon tomorrow, so get some sleep early."

"Yes, sir!"

The following morning, fully equipped and rested, Bennett's party departed the hideout.

The Pioneers' Hall was packed to the brim as always. Heavily armed scavengers stood clustered in small parties, checking their gear and reviewing supply manifests as they awaited their deployment slots.

—Dungeon reset confirmed!

A roaring gale swept through the transit gates as the dimensional portal shifted colors, heralding a brand-new destination. Having arrived well ahead of the rush, Bennett's squad cleared the inspection checkpoint and stepped through the rift without delay.

The world inverted in an instant of dizzying weightlessness.

Tap.

Bennett and his companions landed cleanly on solid footing, immediately spreading out into a defensive perimeter while scanning their surroundings with all five senses. Drawing from past excursions, dimensional Earth sectors typically welcomed travelers with stale, suffocating air thick with the scent of ruin—a stark, unpleasant contrast to the crisp breeze of their homeland.

Yet this time, that stifling oppression was completely absent.

Instead, a freezing, invigorating wind whipped past their cloaks, carrying with it a sharp, pungent aroma that stung the nostrils.

Salt water...?