Jae-Hyun stepped into his hotel room, feeling the weight of exhaustion press down on him like an iron vice. The moment the door shut behind him, he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

  And then—

  "You look horrible. Looks like you went through hell."

  Ahri’s voice came from the couch near the window, sharp and immediate. She was already inside, waiting for him. Jae-Hyun barely had the energy to react—he had given her a key before he left, knowing she’d want to be here when he returned.

  She stood up quickly, her expression tight with something between frustration and relief. "You stayed two extra days?" Ahri’s voice was sharp as she stood up quickly, crossing her arms. Her foot tapped against the floor, her expression tight with something between frustration and relief. "What the hell happened?"

  Her voice was edged with anger, but her eyes told a different story.

  "I was worried, Jae-Hyun..." Her voice dropped slightly, frustration giving way to something more vulnerable. "I thought—" She cut herself off, shaking her head before crossing her arms tighter. "I thought you were actually going to die this time."

  She stood up, crossing her arms as she scanned him from head to toe. Her sharp eyes narrowed, her expression unreadable, but the tension in her posture was evident.

  "You stayed two extra days..." Her voice was calm, but the underlying frustration was there. "Knowing I was waiting for you?"

  Jae-Hyun exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, I'll explain."

  "You better."

  For a moment, they just stared at each other. Ahri’s frustration was clear—she was pissed, but underneath it, there was something else. Relief.

  She let out a slow breath, shaking her head. "Whatever. You’re back now."

  She turned and walked toward the small dining table, where two takeout boxes sat. "I brought food, but it’s cold now." She slid one toward him. "I was going to eat," she muttered, nudging the takeout box forward. "But I didn’t want to eat alone."

  Jae-Hyun blinked. "You didn’t have to—"

  "Shut up and eat."

  Her tone left no room for argument. He sat down, prying open the container. The food was indeed cold, but right now, it didn’t matter. The moment he took the first bite, his body relaxed for the first time in days. The warmth, even dulled by time, was something he hadn’t felt in too long.

  They ate in silence, Ahri stealing occasional glances at him as if to make sure he wouldn’t drop dead mid-meal. She didn’t press him for details—not yet. She simply let him eat.

  When they were done, she leaned back against the chair, arms crossed again. "So? What the hell happened in there?"

  Jae-Hyun let out a slow breath before answering.

  And then he proceeded to explain more or less what happened.

  Ahri listened, her eyes never leaving him. As he spoke, her expression darkened in places—especially when he mentioned the ten-minute rest periods, the final boss, and the choice to stay longer.

  When he finished, she sighed. "So, you almost died. Again."

  "More or less."

  She scoffed, shaking her head. "Seven days of non-stop fighting, and you thought, ‘why not push for two more?’ You're an idiot."

  Jae-Hyun smirked. "You keep saying that."

  "Because it's true."

  They kept chatting and eating the cold meal. Despite its temperature, Jae-Hyun savored each bite—it had been too long since he had a proper meal. Ahri, for all her complaints, didn’t rush him. She simply sat there, occasionally picking at her food, but mostly watching him, ensuring he was still holding himself together.

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  When they were done, she stood up, grabbing her coat. "I’m leaving. You need to rest."

  He expected her to just walk out, but she hesitated near the door. Without looking at him, she muttered, "If you’d come back any later, I would’ve killed you myself."

  Jae-Hyun let out a small laugh, shaking his head. "Now that sounds more like you."

  Ahri clicked her tongue. "Just don’t make me have to consider it next time."

  And then she left.

  The cool night air hit her as she stepped outside, but it did little to calm the storm in her mind.

  Jae-Hyun had changed.

  She could feel it the moment he walked in the door. His presence, his aura—everything about him was heavier, sharper, more refined.

  She had been left behind.

  She clenched her fists. In just a few hours in the real world, Jae-Hyun had widened the gap between them in a way that shouldn’t have been possible. The power he had gained, the sheer endurance he had developed—she could feel it, just standing near him.

  And it frustrated her.

  Not because she envied him.

  Because she refused to be left behind.

  Ahri took a deep breath, letting the night air fill her lungs before exhaling slowly.

  I have to get stronger.

  She had already lost too much—she refused to lose him to the gap widening between them.

  She had promised herself she would keep up. That she would stand beside him, not in his shadow. And now, after hearing what he went through, she knew—she was still far too weak.

  She glanced up at the towering city skyline, the stars barely visible past the artificial lights.

  Her path was clear.

  She had work to do.

  And she would not fall behind again.

  The hot water ran down Jae-Hyun’s back, washing away the dried blood and grime that had clung to him since the moment he stepped into the Fracture.

  The warmth seeped into his skin, unwinding muscles that had been locked in tension for what felt like an eternity. His fingers pressed against his side, feeling the bruises beneath the surface—his body, once accustomed to pain, now barely responding. When he reached up to run his hands through his hair, his arms felt like lead. A deep ache settled into his bones, as if his body had finally realized it was allowed to hurt.

  He leaned his forehead against the cool tiles, letting the water cascade over him as he exhaled slowly. His body was exhausted—beyond exhausted—but his mind was still running, still calculating.

  What’s next?

  There was only one answer.

  The Path to Hell.

  He had unlocked the quest, but to access it, he needed to clear Floor 30 of the Tower.

  His grip tightened slightly. That would be his next step.

  But even as he thought about it, a question lingered in his mind. What would be waiting for him on the other side? The system never gave anything for free. And if the punishment had been this brutal... then what kind of hell was he truly stepping into?

  But there was something else that nagged at him.

  Where did he stand now?

  After pushing himself beyond human limits in that punishment, after leveling to 59, how did he compare to the other hunters? Where did his strength place him in the current rankings?

  He needed to find out.

  For now, though, none of that mattered.

  As he stepped out of the shower, he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. His gaze drifted downward, settling on the scar across his torso—a mark that potions couldn’t heal, a reminder of how close he had been to death. He traced his fingers over the jagged wound, his breath slow and measured. For a moment, the memory surfaced—the crushing weight of the Judicator's blow, the sickening crack of his ribs, the suffocating realization that he might not get back up. He had barely survived. Would there come a day when every battle left something behind? Was this just the first of many scars to come? He ran his fingers over the jagged skin, exhaling slowly.

  Reality settled in. His body felt heavier than ever, his limbs sluggish, his vision dimming at the edges. Even now, with nothing chasing him, no timer ticking down, his mind wouldn’t quiet. His body had left the Fracture, but had his mind? Each time he closed his eyes, he swore he could still hear the system’s voice. The endless cycle of waves, the mocking challenges. He shook his head, trying to push it all away.

  He barely made it to the bed before collapsing onto it, not even bothering to pull the covers over himself.

  The exhaustion he had been holding back for days finally crashed over him in full force.

  His breathing slowed. His thoughts faded.

  Jae-Hyun barely had the energy to move. His muscles refused to respond, his eyelids growing heavier by the second. The moment he let go, his body surrendered completely. His muscles stopped obeying, his breathing slowed. His fingers twitched at his sides, but there was no strength left to move them. The weight of the past week pressed down, suffocating and inescapable. And yet, despite the exhaustion, there was something oddly comforting about it. There was nothing left to do. No fight to win. No battle to prepare for. He could finally—truly—rest.

  Jae-Hyun was unconscious before his head even hit the pillow.

  And for the first time in what felt like an eternity—

  He slept.