The eleventh floor was unusually quiet.
Not in the comforting way. Not in the way that made one feel safe or forgotten by the world above. This was the kind of silence that came before something ruptured.
Toji knew it well.
The air here was thick. Humid. The walls pressed close with fungal moss that pulsed faintly, like they were breathing.
It reminded him of deep, flooded tunnels he'd crawled through as a child on a mission, Tokyo sewers during a blackout, silent except for the distant scurry of rats and the drip of water.
He moved without sound, despite the gravel and uneven stone under his boots. A new blade hung at his side, he'd picked it off a corpse four floors down. Not ideal, but better than nothing.
His coat fluttered as he turned a sharp corner, and then he stopped.
The sound came first, a low hiss of wind.
Then movement.
Toji tilted his head slightly.
Ahead, in the dim blue glow of moss and flickering Dungeon light, a blur of gold and silver streaked through the air.
A gale followed, the wind howling past him like a beast's breath.
The Minotaur didn't stand a chance.
Steel flashed once, twice. Then silence.
The monster collapsed in a heap of blood and fur, and from above it landed a girl with golden hair and eyes as sharp as cut topaz.
She didn't speak.
Didn't have to.
Toji leaned his weight on one foot, arms loose, unreadable gaze locking with hers. He knew who she was. Of course he did. The Sword Princess. Aiz Wallenstein. Loki Familia's prize.
She looked young.
Too young for the eyes she had.
Too quiet for the reputation.
He wondered, just briefly, how many people mistook her for something delicate before she gutted them.
She straightened, eyes flicking over him, pausing at the blood dried on his coat, the bruises across his hands, the absence of a visible emblem or group.
They stood apart, maybe twenty feet, neither moving, as the Minotaur's corpse slowly bled into the floor between them.
"You're not with anyone," she said at last.
Voice soft. No judgment. Just a statement of fact.
"No."
"I've seen you before. Floor Seven. You fought the Silverback."
Toji said nothing.
She took a step forward.
"You don't move like a rookie."
"I'm not."
She tilted her head. "What level are you?"
"Does it matter?"
For a second, her expression didn't change. But something in her eyes flickered, interest, maybe. Or caution.
"I've been watching you," she said.
He gave a slow blink. "That so?"
"You don't fight like an adventurer. You fight like someone who doesn't care if they die."
Toji smiled, just a twitch of the mouth. "Maybe I don't."
Silence again.
The Dungeon moaned softly in the distance, the walls shifting, restless.
Aiz walked forward, deliberate and quiet, until she stood within striking distance. Her hand rested on the hilt of her rapier, not drawn, but not relaxed either.
"I want to spar."
Toji raised a brow. "Now?"
"You're strong. I want to see."
He looked past her, to the shadows at the edges of the corridor.
"I don't do requests."
"I wasn't asking."
The silence stretched.
Then, he shrugged off his coat.
It hit the stone floor with a whisper.
She drew her sword.
The first strike came so fast most wouldn't have seen it.
Aiz lunged, wind swirling around her, blade singing. Her foot barely touched the ground before her rapier thrust for his throat.
Toji moved sideways, hand darting up, not to block, but to slap the flat of her blade and redirect the thrust. He pivoted behind her in the same breath, fist swinging for her ribs.
She twisted, deflecting him with her shoulder, landing with grace.
Then again.
Steel clashed.
No wasted motion. No hesitation.
Toji didn't fight like the warriors she'd sparred with. He moved like a killer. Every step, every dodge, wasn't meant for sport, it was survival, honed and brutal.
He didn't rely on his weapon, not like she did. He used his body like a blade. His hands, his feet, his environment.
She pressed in harder, driving him back with a flurry of precise strikes. Her wind magic surged, light and sharp.
Toji caught a slice across his bicep, shallow, but clean.
His counter was immediate, a brutal sweep of the leg.
She jumped.
He followed.
They collided mid-air, her blade slicing through the air between them, his fist grazing her shoulder.
They landed, crouched and low.
Aiz's chest rose and fell, her eyes never leaving his.
She was smiling.
Not wide. Not open.
But there, small and quiet.
"You don't flinch," she said.
"Never saw the point."
"I like that."
Toji didn't respond.
Instead, he lunged.
This time he was serious.
He moved faster, a blur of muscle and instinct. His new blade flashed in his hand, aimed not to kill, but to test.
She met him head-on, no fear in her bones.
The corridor echoed with impact after impact. Sparks danced from clashing steel. Dust kicked up. The Dungeon itself seemed to lean in and watch.
Toji ducked a wide arc, feinted a slash, spun low and aimed a backhanded strike at her jaw.
Aiz blocked with the guard of her rapier, pushing him back with a burst of wind. He skidded to a stop, hand bleeding from the force of her defense.
They were both breathing harder now.
But neither gave in.
When they finally broke apart, it wasn't because they were tired.
It was because something in the air changed.
The ground rumbled.
Toji and Aiz turned in unison.
From the far end of the corridor, a howl split the dark.
An Infant Dragon, rare, aggressive, and far too high-level for this floor—burst through a collapsed wall, enraged and hungry.
It charged.
Toji didn't hesitate.
Neither did she.
They moved as one.
Toji hit the creature first, sliding under its swipe and slamming his blade into its thigh. It screamed, tail whipping toward him.
Aiz struck next, using his momentum as an opening, her rapier glowing with wind magic as she drove it into the dragon's exposed side.
It reeled.
Toji ripped his blade free and vaulted onto its back, stabbing downward, again and again, blood spraying across his face.
The dragon slammed against the wall, trying to shake him off.
Aiz soared into the air, spinning once, and dove, her blade driving into the base of the creature's skull.
The beast collapsed, convulsed, and lay still.
For a long moment, they stood in the wreckage.
Then Aiz turned to him, sweat streaking her brow, golden hair tangled and wild.
"You're strong," she said simply.
He wiped blood from his face with the back of his hand. "So are you."
She stared at him a moment longer, then offered her hand.
Toji looked at it.
Didn't take it.
But nodded.
Respect.
And that was enough.
They walked in silence until the next safe zone.
Aiz sat on a ledge, inspecting her blade, while Toji rinsed his hands in a small stream trickling from the mossy wall.
He didn't speak. But she watched him.
"You don't like people," she said.
"No."
"But you fought beside me."
"It was efficient."
Aiz leaned back, arms braced behind her, legs swinging idly.
"You're not what I expected."
Toji looked at her.
"Neither are you."
She blinked. "What did you expect?"
He shrugged. "Another pretty toy for the gods to play with."
She laughed, soft, almost surprised.
"I'm not anyone's toy."
"Didn't think so."
They fell into silence again.
But it wasn't the cold kind.
Not quite.
Later, as they prepared to head in separate directions, Aiz hesitated.
"You'll be in the lower floors soon."
"Maybe."
"I'll see you there."
It wasn't a question.
Toji nodded once.
And then she was gone, a gust of wind and golden light disappearing into the dark.
He watched the spot where she'd stood.
Strange girl.
Strong.
Sharp.
Quiet.
He could respect that.
Toji pulled his coat back on, the dried blood flaking slightly as he adjusted the collar.
Then he walked the other way, deeper into the Dungeon.
There were more monsters waiting.
And maybe, if the world insisted, more people like her.
He didn't want friends.
Didn't want bonds.
But something in him stirred, barely felt.
The fight hadn't left him empty.
And that was dangerous.
Because it meant he still felt something.
Even if it was just a spark, a feeling, the excitement of his life on the line, the feeling of proving the sorcerers just how strong he can be, just how much he can grow.
Just like when he almost kill the strongest sorcerer, Gojo Satoru...
...
The Eleventh Floor seemed to settle in the aftermath of the battle, but Toji knew better than to trust it. The Dungeon was never still. It simply waited.
He moved again, deeper, letting the flickering moss-light fade behind him as silence swallowed his steps.
His body ached, not badly, but in that dull, worn way that came after a good fight. The kind of pain he didn't mind. The kind that made him feel like he was still alive.
Aiz Wallenstein.
She hadn't been what he expected. Most warriors with reputation didn't live up to it. Too much flash, not enough follow-through. She had the follow-through.
Fast, clean, efficient. A monster dressed as a doll. Her smile, brief as it was, had been real. That unsettled him more than anything else.
He passed a dead War Shadow slumped against a wall, its black smoke curling upward like incense. It had been freshly killed. Not by him.
Another sign.
She'd cleared this path before him.
Toji paused, letting his hand fall to his side. A sound brushed the edge of his hearing. Not monsters. Not footsteps. A voice, muffled, strained.
He followed it.
A tight passage led into a natural cavern, half-collapsed and veined with crystals that pulsed faintly. The sound became clearer now: ragged breathing, a choked cry.
He found the source quickly.
Two adventurers. Young. No older than sixteen. One was sprawled on the ground, leg bent wrong, blood pooling from a gash in their side.
The other, a boy barely older, stood protectively in front of them, sword trembling in his grip.
Toji didn't slow his step as he entered. The boy flinched and raised his weapon.
"Back off!" he barked. "I'm warning you!"
Toji looked at him once.
The boy nearly dropped the blade.
"I.... please," he stammered. "My friend's hurt. We were ambushed. The party ran. I didn't know what else to do."
Toji's eyes swept the cave. No threat nearby. Whatever had wounded them was long gone. Probably something Aiz had already killed.
He didn't answer the boy.
Didn't ask who they were with. Didn't care.
Instead, he crouched beside the wounded one and checked the wound.
The girl, because it was a girl, maybe fourteen, barely conscious, whimpered at his touch. Fevered. Infection already creeping along the wound.
Not fatal.
Yet.
The boy watched, pale.
"Can you help her?"
Toji looked at him. His voice was flat. "What's her name?"
"S-Selica."
Toji stared a beat longer, then stood.
"She'll die if she stays here."
"I know," the boy said, desperation cracking in his tone. "Please, I'll carry her, I just need.... can you clear the path? Help me reach the ninth floor lift?"
Toji looked down at the girl, then at the boy. He didn't move.
Then he reached into his coat and pulled a folded cloth from an inside pocket. Unwrapping it revealed a dark green pill, small, bitter-smelling.
Something he'd taken off a healer three floors ago, after a particularly bloody run.
He crouched and shoved it between the girl's lips, tilting her chin until she swallowed.
The boy gaped. "What was that?"
"Ether-concentrate. Might buy her time."
"Why.... why would you help us?"
Toji didn't respond. He stood again and turned.
"Get her out. Fast."
The boy's voice cracked. "Wait! Who are you?"
Toji paused at the edge of the cavern. Turned his head just enough for his words to reach.
"No one you'll remember."
Then he vanished into the shadows.
**
Hours passed.
The Eleventh Floor bled into the Twelfth, then the Thirteenth.
Toji didn't rest. He didn't need to. Not yet.
He moved like a ghost, silent and efficient. Every monster that crossed his path fell within seconds.
His blade wasn't special, no enchantments, no magical edge. Just steel and speed and strength.
But that was all he needed.
Still, the earlier encounter gnawed at him, not the fight with Aiz, not the dragon, but the kids. The way the boy had looked at him. The way the girl had clung to life.
He did something he would never do, caring about a dying stranger.
He shouldn't care.
He didn't care.
But it lingered.
Memories bled in around the edges of his vision.
A house.
A boy with dark hair and wide eyes.
A small wound.
Megumi. That small, soft hand holding his own, uncomprehending. And her, his wife, her voice quiet and tired, telling him he should be there more. That Megumi needed him.
That he needed more than just vengeance to live for.
Toji shook the memory off like a shackle. Not here. Not now.
The Dungeon wasn't kind to ghosts.
He reached a rest zone on the Fourteenth Floor, an outcrop of broken stone beneath a dome of tangled roots.
The moss was dimmer here, more blue than green, and a trickle of water ran along a shallow groove in the stone. Clean enough to drink.
He sat, finally, and pulled out the canteen he'd filled earlier.
There was movement nearby.
Subtle. Light. Intentional.
He didn't look.
"I'd say you look tired," came the voice, "but I don't think you ever do."
Toji drank once, then lowered the canteen and looked up.
Aiz stood at the edge of the light, hair windblown, armor scuffed, but her stance still graceful, unshaken.
He didn't ask how she found him.
Didn't need to.
She walked forward and sat across from him, not asking permission.
"I heard you saved two kids on Eleven," she said.
He shrugged.
"They were loud," he replied. "Would've drawn more monsters if they stayed."
"Still."
"Don't make it more than it was."
Aiz studied him. "You always do that?"
"Do what?"
"Push people away even when you help them."
He met her gaze.
"Yes."
She didn't press.
Didn't judge.
Just nodded slightly.
They sat in silence for a while.
The Dungeon creaked around them. In the distance, something roared, but neither of them flinched.
"You going lower?" Aiz asked.
"Eventually."
"There's a route on Fifteen that cuts into the upper Sixteens. I can show you."
He narrowed his eyes slightly. "Why?"
"Because you're not like the others," she said. "You don't lie. You don't pretend. You don't fight for praise. You just fight."
He didn't answer.
Didn't have to.
Aiz stood again, brushing dust from her leg.
"I'll be back," she said simply.
Toji looked at her. "Don't."
Her eyes met his. Calm. Sure.
"You don't get to decide who remembers you."
And with that, she left.
Toji sat alone.
The quiet returned.
But now, something bothersome happened.
He can't tell if it's good or bad.
Maybe both...
...