Two long days later, Kyle floated out of a massive clan's territory, his posture relaxed and his expression calm—as if the weight of a thousand burdens had just been lifted.
"That was the last mission."
He muttered to himself.
"Finally... done."
He exhaled, savoring the moment. At long last, he was free of those missions. Free to focus on what mattered: growing stronger.
His thoughts came to an abrupt halt. A flicker of danger prickled at his senses.
And he vanished instantly.
Not a moment too soon—because just as he vanished, a familiar sword tore through the space he had just occupied, slicing so cleanly it left a faint ripple in its wake.
Kyle raised a brow as he reappeared on the far side of the vast dark expanse. His gaze locked with a pair of glowing crimson eyes.
The sword that had nearly taken his head off hovered briefly in the air before gliding effortlessly back to its master's hand.
Kyle tilted his head, his gaze eerily calm.
"What, no hello first?"
