Elion, Jordan, and Ronan were nearing Raymond's gym. The sun had started to dip, casting long shadows over the sidewalk—but the weight of the day wasn't something the night could hide.
Too much had happened. Especially for Elion and Jordan.
Jordan let out a frustrated sigh. "Why didn't we just ask him about Aegis? About the suit? And how the heck do they even know about Mana Gates?"
"Because more than twenty operatives were on their way," Ronan replied, calm and blunt as always. "And they're just humans. Not worth burning mana over."
"I get that," Jordan said, clearly not ready to drop it. "But still… don't you want to know? What if Aegis could actually be an ally?"
The thought had been nagging at him. Sure, fighting beast-men was thrilling now—but what about later? What happened when he got stronger, and they weren't a challenge anymore? What if they became... boring?
But the Zodiacs? The Lord? Now that sounded like a real fight.
"You want a bigger challenge," Elion said like he'd been reading Jordan's mind the whole time.
He turned to him and continued, "You're hoping Aegis keeps the beast-men busy so you can focus on training. So you can go after the Zodiacs… or even the Lord."
Jordan didn't say anything at first, but his expression gave him away. Disappointment. Mostly with himself—because Elion was right.
A thousand beast-men might sound like a nightmare to most. But to Jordan? It sounded like a warm-up. What he craved was something harder. Something that pushed back.
Something that mattered.
"Be careful what you wish for," Ronan said flatly, arms still crossed. "How many beast-men have you actually fought?"
Jordan opened his mouth, mentally ticking through the handful of encounters he'd had—but Ronan didn't wait.
"None of them went down in one hit," he continued. "In fact, you struggled against most of them."
The words landed like a slap. Jordan flinched, not visibly—but enough that it cut through the adrenaline high he'd been riding. He was excited, maybe too much. Fired up to test himself, to prove he could hang with the real fighters. But that excitement had made him reckless.
"And with that mindset," Ronan added, his voice low but firm, "you'll be dead before you even see one of the Zodiacs."
Silence settled between them. Jordan stared at the rooftop floor, unsure what to say. Ronan was right. Even against Theo, he hadn't won alone. It took both him and Elion—and even then, they'd only pulled it off because they'd used their Beast Rings. Theo hadn't.
"You're right," Jordan admitted quietly, the words bitter but honest.
Elion watched him, feeling the gap between them. Jordan was all reckless fire; Elion was still holding his cards close. One of them was going to get burned eventually—he just hoped it wasn't both.
"Enough sulking," Ronan said, voice steady but not mean.
He lifted his gaze to the sky, letting the stillness hang for a moment before speaking again.
"You two have done more than most would believe possible. No long training, barely a few hours in—and you stood your ground against beast-men and that guy."
Elion glanced at him, sensing there was more coming. Ronan didn't just hand out compliments. If he was talking like this, he was about to bring up something deeper. Probably from his world.
Sure enough, Ronan touched his ring and a small silver badge came out—two swords crossed at the center, surrounded by unfamiliar symbols.
"Back where I'm from," he said, "every Slayer trains in an academy for three years before they're officially recognized. Before they earn the title."
Jordan leaned in, eyes fixed on the badge. "What is that?"
"This one? It's the badge for Slayers still in training. Mine's silver—second year," Ronan explained. "There's more to it, but we'll talk about that later. That's not the part I really wanted to share."
He paused, holding the badge between his fingers like it carried weight heavier than its size.
"In the academy, it's only during the second year that students are allowed to face actual beasts. Real missions. Life-or-death stuff."
Ronan paused once again. "But you guys already a part of those missions."
Elion narrowed his eyes. "So… are you saying you're here on one of those missions?"
Ronan didn't answer right away. That hesitation—just a few seconds—was enough to be caught by Elion.
"Yeah," Ronan finally said. "You could say that."
Jordan blinked. "Wait, what? You're still an academy student?"
He paused, trying to process everything before adding, "And... everything we're dealing with right now—this whole threat to the planet—you're telling me it's the kind of thing students handle?"
He stared at Ronan in disbelief. The idea was almost insulting.
"Beast-men, threats like this… and they're considered learning for students?" Jordan added more, shaking his head. "What kind of nightmares are the real Slayers fighting?"
Elion didn't say anything, but the same thought echoed in his mind.
And yet… something wasn't adding up.
Ronan wasn't answering. His expression had shifted—more guarded now like he was carefully choosing what to say and what to leave out. That pause earlier? It wasn't just hesitation. It was restraint.
Whatever mission Ronan was on—it wasn't simple. Elion started to suspect that there was something bigger than what Ronan had shared.
"Alright, enough of that," Ronan said, brushing away the leftover tension like dust on his shoulder. "Where to next?"
Jordan surveyed the area, his eyes darting between rooftops and shadowed streets like he was piecing together a map only he understood. His brows were furrowed, lips slightly pursed in concentration—a look of deep, dramatic focus.
Maybe a little too dramatic.
Elion raised an eyebrow. "Are we lost?"
"Nope. Almost there," Jordan replied with way more confidence than Elion was comfortable with.
He pointed toward a narrow side street just past the next intersection. "Down there. See those buildings? It's tucked in between them."
Elion followed his line of sight. The place in question was wedged between two aging buildings, barely visible from where they stood. From this distance, it looked less like a gym and more like an abandoned warehouse someone forgot to demolish.
"That?" Elion asked, skepticism creeping into his voice. "You're sure?"
Jordan didn't bother answering. "Just follow me," he said, already moving ahead.
In truth, he wasn't completely sure. He remembered hearing about the place after a match at The Cage—a year ago. Just a street name, mentioned in passing. He could only hope Raymond was still operating it… and that they hadn't just wandered all this way for a boarded-up door.
They clambered down a fire escape that groaned like it was begging for retirement, then hit the ground running. Jordan led the charge, strutting through the rundown streets like he was king of the cracked pavement. The deeper they went, the uglier it got—flickering lights, patched-up buildings, the works. Then, bam—there it was. Raymond's gym. Weathered, tough, and lit by one lonely yellow bulb that screamed, Yeah, I'm still here.
Elion cocked an eyebrow. "You positive?"
Jordan hesitated, confidence wobbling. It was huge, sure, but it looked more like a haunted storage unit than a gym. Graffiti—or maybe wannabe art—splashed the walls, and the air smelled like rust and bad decisions.
Ronan leaned against the wall, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. "This the spot?"
"Uh… mostly sure?" Jordan said. "I mean, how many Raymonds run gyms around here?"
Elion rubbed his temples. "Maybe we ditch this and hit a motel. Ronan checks in, we sneak into his room."
Jordan shook his head vigorously. "Dude, if that place has CCTVs, the authorities will bust us in our sleep. Imagine getting arrested naked!"
Elion scowled. "Who said anything about sleeping naked?"
Jordan shrugged. "You never know. What if the AC is broken?"
Ronan sighed. A heavy one. With his eyes closed, everyone could guess what was inside his mind. He was clearly questioning every life decision that had brought him here.
Suddenly, a loud, familiar voice rang out from behind. It was unnecessary to shout or talk that loud in such an abandoned place.
"Hey! You two!" a voice bellowed.
They whipped around. Raymond jogged up, shoulder in a cast, eyes darting like he expected ninjas to drop from the sky. He shushed them with a finger, which was hilarious considering he'd just yelled.
Elion muttered, "Oh, we're the loud ones?"
Jordan elbowed him. "At least we're in the right place."
Raymond panted, waving them over. "Quick. Inside."
He pressed his thumb to a hidden panel—fancy—and a screen glowed to life. Jordan let out a low whistle as Raymond leaned in for a retina scan. The door clicked open with a smug little beep.
"Seriously, Raymond?" Jordan said. "What are you, a secret agent?"
Raymond grinned, pushing the door wide. "I'll explain later. Welcome to my not-so-humble hideout."
Elion rolled his eyes, but then—whoa. Inside, the gym was a freaking palace. Shiny new equipment, a legit boxing ring, mirrors so clean you could see your soul. There was even a chill zone—leather couch, flat-screen, and a massive fridge begging to be raided.
Jordan's stomach growled like a bear. "Dude, this is yours?"
"Not bad, huh?" Raymond said, waving his good arm like a game-show host.
"Not bad?" Elion echoed. "This is nuts."
Jordan prowled around, eyeing the gear. "Not exactly subtle, though. How's this a secret?"
"Private gym," Raymond said with a shrug. "Special clients only."
"Special like cartel special?" Jordan asked, squinting.
Raymond laughed. "Nah, just rich weirdos who hate crowds."
Jordan bolted for the fridge like it was calling his name. Elion glanced at Ronan, who was scoping the place like a hawk. "Secure enough?"
"For now," Raymond said. "Good pick. No cameras but mine."
He scratched his neck. "So, seriously, what exactly happened? Cops, special ops—everyone's after you. My contacts say you're hot news."
Elion sighed heavily, sinking into a plush couch in the resting corner. "It's a long story."
Raymond shrugged, gently easing onto a nearby stool. "We've got all night."
"Well, we need to ask for permission from him," Elion said as he pointed toward Ronan.
Ronan was leaning against the wall as always.
"Never saw him before. Your buddy?" Raymond asked.
Elion nodded. "He knew everything that we're facing."
Ronan finally joined them, a serious expression replacing his usual smirk. "Not everything. Half of it."
Raymond chuckled, nervous. "Why do I feel like I'm about to regret this?"
Jordan popped up, cheeks stuffed with chips. "Trust me, man, you've got no clue."
An hour later, they'd dumped the whole insane tale—beasts, corrupted rings, transformations, fights. Raymond sat there, jaw on the floor.
"So…" he said, blinking hard. "Beasts, evil cult vibes—all real?"
Jordan grinned. "Yup. Wild, right?"
Raymond rubbed his face. "Last night was weird, but this? This is a whole new league."
"Welcome to the club," Elion grumbled.
Raymond laughed, shaky. "I love action flicks, but this is… something else."
Ronan, who had been quietly leaning against the wall, stepped forward. He reached into his dimensional storage and took out a small leather pouch. It made a jingling sound as he placed it on the table in front of Raymond.
Raymond, Elion, and Jordan all stared at the pouch with curiosity.
Then Ronan opened it, and ten heavy gold coins spilled onto the polished tabletop with a loud metallic clink.
Elion's jaw dropped. Jordan nearly fell off the couch. Raymond's eyes widened in disbelief. The coins gleamed brightly under the gym's fluorescent lighting, clearly made from pure gold—each one intricately embossed with symbols none of them recognized.
"Wait—" Jordan sputtered, finally breaking the silence. "Those are... gold coins. Like real, actual gold coins."
Ronan raised an eyebrow, confused. "What? Do you guys not use gold coins here?"
Jordan snorted incredulously. "I mean, we have gold coins, sure. But they're usually chocolate wrapped in foil. Not actual gold."
Ronan frowned slightly, clearly puzzled. "Then what do you use?"
Elion chuckled, shaking his head. "Cash. Credit cards. Digital money. Normal, non-medieval stuff."
Ronan sighed. "Your world's a mess."
Raymond finally found his voice again, gingerly picking up one of the heavy coins. He bounced it in his palm, testing its weight. "This... is real gold."
Ronan raised an eyebrow casually. "Is it not enough? I brought around twenty thousand of these. Figured they'd be useful here."
The room went silent again. Elion was pretty sure Jordan's eyes were about to pop out of his head.
"Dude," Jordan finally breathed, barely able to speak, "You're walking around with twenty thousand gold coins?"
Ronan shrugged casually as if it were no big deal. "I didn't exactly pack for vacation. This was just spare change I had lying around."
Raymond immediately scooped up the coins, nodding rapidly. "No, no—it's enough! More than enough. Stay here for the week. Eat whatever, use whatever. If you want to extend your stay, another ten gold coins for another week."
Ronan raised an eyebrow skeptically. "You sure it's enough?"
Raymond laughed nervously, glancing toward Elion and Jordan. "Believe me, it's plenty."
Jordan gave Raymond a playful shove. "Did you just get paid in medieval treasure to hide fugitives in your secret gym?"
Raymond grinned sheepishly. "I guess I did."
Elion pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing deeply. He wasn't sure if their lives had just gotten easier or infinitely more complicated. Probably both.
Ronan simply walked toward the relaxation corner, casually stretching his arms as if the entire exchange were completely normal. "Well, since that's settled, we'll start your training tomorrow. Prepare yourselves."
Elion groaned inwardly, so much for rest.
Jordan leaned toward him, whispering dramatically, "Remind me why we're together with this guy again?"
"Fate and desperate," Elion muttered back.
"Fair enough," Jordan admitted, settling back into the plush leather couch with a sigh. "Well, at least we're desperate and rich with snacks and... gold."
Elion rolled his eyes. "Just don't get used to it."
Jordan chuckled, closing his eyes happily. "Too late."
And for the first time in what felt like forever, they all finally managed to laugh—however brief—at how absurd their lives had become.