Before Maiol stood a crazed, wild monkey, once a seemingly calm and controlled foe, but now completely unhinged, thrashing wildly before her.

  Just moments ago, the beast’s movements had seemed methodical, as though it had intentionally separated Seneca and Maiol. But now, it had fallen into a frenzy, delivering blows with reckless abandon. There was no pattern, no strategy; its attacks were chaotic and erratic.

  This unpredictability left Maiol on edge, her every move uncertain. The monkey’s single arm, though bound and weakened, still surged with raw magical power, evidently strengthening its body in an attempt to overpower her.

  The enhancement was potent, yet fleeting. Maiol could tell that it wouldn’t st much longer, but could she escape before the creature’s power exhausted itself? Each strike was brutal, and the odds of surviving without injury seemed slim.

  To endure, she would need to rely on her shield and her agility, dodging and parrying with everything she had, hoping she could hold on long enough to escape.

  As the battle wore on, Maiol’s thoughts drifted toward Seneca. She could feel through her skill the strain Seneca was enduring. Seneca was being tossed back and forth, an almost impossible battle pying out at a distance. If she hadn't returned each time, she might have perished.

  Maiol’s mind raced.

  There had been countless battles before—difficult ones, dangerous ones. Injuries had been sustained, but she and Seneca had always managed to support one another. When Maiol faltered, Seneca was there. When Seneca struggled, Maiol stood by her side.

  But now, the situation was different.

  Seneca, the agile and skilled warrior, was struggling. Her speed and expertise should have been enough to deal with most foes quickly, but this opponent was a relentless powerhouse, and the longer the battle dragged on, the more likely they would both lose.

  Maiol’s situation was just as grim. The monkey before her, despite its single arm, possessed frightening strength and ferocity. It was unlike anything Maiol had faced before. She could strike, but her attacks barely had any effect. Her sword skimmed across its skin, cutting through its flesh, but it felt as though her blows were meaningless, the cuts shallow and ineffective.

  Then, as if from nowhere, a deep sense of dread began to overwhelm her, seizing her mind and heart. The fear of death, so sharp and visceral, took root.

  Her thoughts spiraled downward.

  Victory seemed impossible. She couldn’t see a way to win.

  With every passing moment, her strength drained away, and the fear gnawed at her, slowly consuming her.

  Her body began to shake uncontrolbly, her heart racing with panic. With every attack, every parry, she could feel something dark and dreadful rising within her. It was as if she were teetering on the edge of despair, ready to be swallowed by it.

  Maiol knew she couldn’t allow herself to fall into that abyss.

  But the more she tried to resist, the more her focus faltered. Her breath became erratic, and her thoughts clouded. Her mind grew white with the fog of panic.

  Just before she was overtaken by that darkness, she pulled herself away from the monkey, distancing herself as best she could. With a quick, instinctive motion, she deactivated her skills, releasing the tension in her body, dropping her shield and exhaling deeply.

  For a brief moment, crity returned.

  She whispered to herself.

  “If I die… Seneca’s gone too.”

  “If Seneca dies… I’m finished as well.”

  All the days of happiness, the dreams she had once longed for, and even the painful training—all of it would be for naught. Everything would end.

  Is that truly how it ends? Is that what I want? Is it enough to just fade away?

  The question burned in her chest.

  But the answer came quickly.

  "Of course not!!!"

  Maiol activated her skill, her focus now completely fixed on the monkey before her, channelling all her magic into her attack.

  Nothing else mattered.

  Her tears flowed freely, her hands and legs continued to tremble, her skin pale and drained of colour. Her teeth chattered together with a cttering noise.

  From an outside perspective, she must have looked like a terrified girl, trembling at the thought of death.

  “So what?” she muttered, her voice firm despite the fear. “Fate, body, they don’t go according to pn. I’ll face misfortune. I’ll be forsaken by the heavens. My strength won’t be enough. Tears will fall.”

  “I won’t always get what I want. But my heart, my will? That no one can take from me. It belongs to me, and to no one else. This is who I am. Even if my body falls, my will stays! I won’t surrender, not without a fight!”

  For the first time, Maiol unched an attack.

  The monkey sneered, its lips curling in a cruel smile.

  It believed it couldn’t lose.

  But Maiol was undeterred. She poured every st ounce of her magic into the skill, feeling an unfamiliar shift in time and space around her.

  Something strange happened.

  Time seemed to slow, and in that moment, after the monkey moved, lingering afterimages appeared, as if its movements had left an imprint upon the world.

  The future was suddenly clear to her, painted by the past.

  Suddenly, Maiol could read the monkey’s every move. She could see exactly how it would attack, where it would strike, and in what direction it would move.

  With a focus she had never known, Maiol dodged its incoming blows with ease, stepping into the creature’s reach.

  With precision, she drove her sword straight into its eye.

  The monkey screeched in agony. It cwed at its throat in a desperate attempt to stop the pain, but the force of the blow was too much. It colpsed to the ground with a final, shuddering twitch.

  Maiol stood victorious.

  In her mind, she heard the long-awaited voice that accompanied her triumph:

  Level 2 reached. You have learned [Sight: Subjective]. Your physical abilities have been significantly enhanced. You have gained the sub-skill [Trail].

  For the first time in her life, Maiol let out a triumphant roar.

  The sound echoed across the vast sky, carrying far and wide.

  ...

  Meanwhile...

  Seneca fought against the other monkey with all her might, but the battle was one-sided. The odds were stacked firmly against her. She had no real advantage, and the monkey’s strength outmatched hers by far.

  She was struggling. There was no denying it.

  The monkey was as strong as an orc, and while it cked magic or intelligence, it was swift and relentless. Even with her skill, Seneca was being pushed to her limits. Alone, she couldn’t defeat it.

  But still, she had faith. Some irrational, unshakable belief that she would make it through.

  It reminded her of the time she fell into a river when she was six. Somehow, she had known, deep down, that she would survive. Even when she was battered and injured, she didn’t panic.

  The same feeling lingered now, even as she faced her adversary.

  She was hurt—badly. Her ribs were likely fractured, her left arm scraped and bruised, her side torn open with blood flowing freely. Her head was dizzy, her breath uneven, but the certainty in her heart remained.

  She would survive. She had to.

  Then, in the distance, she heard the scream of the monkey.

  It was a loud, ear-piercing sound, followed by the triumphant roar of Maiol.

  She had done it. Maiol had won.

  The monkey before Seneca hesitated, clearly caught off-guard by the sudden change in momentum. Its partner had fallen, and it faltered.

  That moment of hesitation was all Seneca needed.

  ...

  Seneca had been thinking for some time now, ever since she had gained her unique skill, [Sewing].

  It was a strange power, one that worked differently depending on her emotional state. When she focused on the idea of piercing, the magic was weak. But when she envisioned it as a "sewing" motion, the results were vastly more powerful.

  She had used this concept with [Magical Needle], and it had worked wonders.

  But now, she was thinking of something new. Something that might surprise even her.

  ...

  The instant the monkey faltered, Seneca surged forward, channeling all her magic into her body.

  An idea bloomed in her mind.

  It was untested. Uncertain.

  But it felt right.

  “Let’s try this,” she thought, determination hardening her resolve.

  With a firm, silent command, she set her mind to work.

  "Enemy, I will sew you down."

  "With what?" she asked herself.

  "With myself."

  In a moment, Seneca envisioned herself as a needle, and magical threads sprang from her, emerging from her back like a tail.

  In a blur, she was off, moving faster than the monkey could react.

  The monkey turned to face her, but before it could make sense of her movements, she was already behind it.

  Without a moment’s hesitation, she plunged her bde into its back.

  The monkey never had a chance.

  Seneca, with the magic of her body and mind aligned, had triumphed.

  "Parallel Stitch!"

  The monkey’s life flickered out, and in an instant, it was no more.