* * *
The scattered water gathered and dispersed repeatedly, slowly taking the shape of arrows.
The leader, confident that he had the upper hand, grinned triumphantly as he formed four watery projectiles.
“D-Do you think we should call back and tell them to hurry up?”
“…Oh, sure. I’m sure they’d just magically get here faster.”
Trapped in a dead-end situation, Ben suddenly thought of a certain man.
If it were him, he’d probably dismiss this whole thing as child’s play.
He wished he had asked for that guy’s number this morning.
He wasn’t the type to reach out for help, but now that he was cornered, he couldn’t shake the thought that it might’ve been a good idea.
Whoosh—!!
The water arrows sliced through the air, threateningly fast.
One barely missed Ben and Zereno, slamming into the wall with a loud splat before reverting to ordinary water.
Judging by the force, it might not pierce flesh, but getting hit would still be brutal.
It wasn’t the kind of pain Ben wanted to experience firsthand.
“He’s not a high-ranking Esper. He can’t gather moisture from the air, and he’s not reclaiming the water from his attacks. That means his control has limits—both in range and quantity. That probably affects his accuracy too. I’d guess he’s somewhere around C-rank.”
Zereno, sweating profusely behind him, seemed to have analyzed the enemy’s abilities in the middle of the chaos.
Ben had to admit—at least when it came to stuff like this, the guy’s brain worked fast.
“Now that I think about it… I do have something….”
“Ha! How do you like my power?! Cover me, boys! I’m gonna make these Central bastards regret ever stepping foot here!”
The leader shouted, and as if on cue, his henchmen raised their guns, blocking the corridor like wings unfolding.
A straight hallway.
No cover. No way to dodge bullets.
Ben had just encountered a nightmare scenario.
Bang!
A sharp gunshot echoed down the corridor.
Clang!
It missed.
At this range, missing a shot meant the guy must be seriously bad at aiming.
Ben let out a shaky breath, relieved.
But his relief didn’t last long—one of the remaining henchmen, wielding a knife, suddenly rushed forward.
Ben tensed. His body reacted on instinct, stepping back.
But Zereno was right behind him, getting in the way, leaving Ben with no choice but to face the attacker head-on.
“You bastards—!!”
The short blade swung toward him from the right.
If he could just dodge, he could counter.
He had done this move before—many times in the past. He could do it again.
Just a little closer—!
Ben calmly ducked, then grabbed the attacker’s wrist, twisting it sharply.
The man’s arm bent at an unnatural angle as he screamed in pain, his stance collapsing.
Got him!
Ben raised his other hand to knock him out—
Thwack!
A blast of water struck him directly in the face.
“Ugh—!”
Shit, that hurt!
He had expected it to hurt, but the actual impact was far worse.
Was he even hit by water?
It felt more like he had been whipped.
His whole head buzzed from the pain, and his cheek immediately started swelling.
He had never been hit with a whip before, but now he imagined this was how it felt.
It stung so much that tears welled up in his eyes, but he refused to let go of his opponent.
He clung on with everything he had.
Unfortunately, the man recovered and clenched his fist, ready to swing.
With no other choice, Ben shoved him toward Zereno.
Hissssss—!!
“Take this! Self-defense spray! Hope you enjoy crying your eyes out!”
Ben had thrown the man at Zereno in desperation, but Zereno had apparently been waiting for this moment.
He pulled out a small gun-like object and fired liquid into the attacker’s face.
Instantly, the man collapsed, rolling on the floor, blinded and wailing.
Zereno puffed out his chest proudly.
“Turns out I had this in my pocket the whole time!”
“…And you didn’t think to use it sooner?!”
“I forgot! Also, dude, your face looks awful. Does it hurt?”
Ben wasn’t sure if Zereno was an ally or his greatest enemy.
“You bastards hurt my beloved underlings!!”
Two enemies left.
Ben took a deep breath.
Maybe they could hold out.
He glanced at Zereno, who looked emboldened, gripping his spray gun like it was a legendary weapon.
But his confidence lasted less than a minute.
Because suddenly, his phone rang.
“Oh crap, oh crap, what do I do? How do I answer? Hey—hey, you bastards! Stay back!!”
“It could be an unrelated call. Just ignore it.”
“What if it’s about reinforcements?! Answer it! Hurry up!”
Ben wanted to focus on the fight, but Zereno had a point.
He reluctantly fished the phone out of Zereno’s back pocket and answered.
“Just pick it up already! They’re about to shoot!”
“…This is Ben Plaskun.”
The screen was too cracked to read the caller ID, so he answered blindly.
After a brief pause, a familiar voice came through.
“…Moria Iren?”
Ben repeated the question in a puzzled voice, but the person on the other end of the call was too busy pouring out their own words.
Even in this chaos—where bullets and streams of water rained down—every word they spoke struck Ben’s ears with force.
“I mean, I’m in a really tough situation right now too… That doesn’t even make sense. Yeah… I know, but still.”
“Hey! What are they saying?!”
Zereno moved frantically, sweat beading on his palms, as if he were about to explode from frustration.
He wanted nothing more than to turn around and demand answers, but the grave atmosphere kept him silent.
He decided to just wait for this whole ordeal to end.
Then, he finally heard Ben let out a reluctant sigh as he hung up the call.
“…Alright. I understand. I’ll go.”
And with that short exchange, the words that left Ben’s mouth were enough to make Zereno’s expression sour as if he’d swallowed something bitter.
“…We can’t wait for backup. We’ll have to escape on our own.”
“What…? What the hell are you talking about? How the hell are we supposed to get out of here?”
He understood. He really did.
Ben didn’t want this either.
If walking out of here on his own two feet was an option, he would’ve done so already.
Even he found it ridiculous after saying it out loud, so he could only imagine how Zereno must feel.
He wasn’t saying it outright, but the look in his eyes made his thoughts crystal clear: ‘Are you out of your damn mind?’
But what choice did they have? Some things just had to be done.
“This is Zone 11, right?”
“Yeah, it is.”
“How long will it take to get to Zone 8?”
“Zone 8? From here? You’d have to gun it for at least thirty minutes. But why the hell does that even matter right now?!”
Ben let out a deep sigh at Zereno’s sharp retort and replied,
“There’s something I absolutely have to take responsibility for. If I don’t get out of here, something far worse is going to happen elsewhere.”
∗ ∗ ∗
A dry, box-like room.
The only source of light was what filtered through the blinds—no artificial lighting was on.
A neatly arranged desk, a sleek leather sofa, and a glass coffee table placed with perfect precision.
There was nothing excessive, nothing missing.
The space reflected its owner’s personality in full.
And sprawled lazily on that sofa, one leg crossed over the other, was a man who resembled a predator settled in his own jungle.
A black dress shirt, impeccably pressed trousers that fell cleanly at the ankles, not a wrinkle in sight.
Clad entirely in black, his strikingly pale skin and platinum hair, soft as if it would melt, stood out vividly against the brown leather.
“Despite what you say, your secretary was quite helpful in guiding me, Director of Eternita Central.”
At the arrival of the room’s owner, the man—Haimar—slowly lifted his gaze, then smiled faintly.
Whether it was by choice or coercion, the fact remained: the secretary had opened the door to the director’s office.
His eyes flicked briefly to the side, where the secretary stood motionless like a statue, dazed and unfocused.
But more bothersome than that was the title Haimar had just used.
Hoapilen Regius, Director of Eternita’s capital Central Office, adjusted the shawl draped over her shoulders and let out a wry smile.
“You ought to be careful about teasing an old woman. I’ve always been honest with you.”
Hoapilen was a woman in her fifties, with streaks of gray beginning to show in her hair.
She wore a red plaid skirt that fell just past her knees, comfortable flats, and had her hair neatly pinned up.
At a glance, she looked like an ordinary middle-aged woman, completely unrelated to a massive institution like Central.
But beneath the gentle smile and fine wrinkles, her keen, intelligent eyes marked her as one of the wisest figures in all of Eternita.
Because of that, she never felt the need to hide things from Haimar.
There was no point—he’d read her anyway.
She had learned that it was easier to simply talk without holding anything back.
But at the same time, she had also mastered the art of not thinking about things she didn’t want to discuss.
If she didn’t consciously bring up a subject, then there was nothing for him to latch onto.
Of course, the moment she did think about it, she’d be caught.
But she had years of experience behind her.
Enough to know how to navigate conversations skillfully.
* * *
