---
The Alehouse of Nareth'Qel had stopped being a place a long time ago.
Now it was just a pressure point in reality.
A space where sound refused to settle properly, and air felt too tight for calm breathing.
Broken tables lay scattered like shattered decisions.
Blood had already soaked into the floorboards in uneven stains, dark and drying at the edges.
And in the middle of it all—
Nocth stood still.
---
Doro stepped forward.
Slow.
Unhurried.
Each footstep echoed slightly against the hollowed wooden ground, as if the building itself was trying to remember how to resist him.
His gaze never left Nocth.
Not even once.
---
"You know…"
Doro tilted his head slightly.
"…last time I didn't really get to talk to you properly."
A faint smile formed.
Not friendly.
Not warm.
Just remembering something inconvenient.
"I was… busy back then."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"…And I never thought it was actually you."
---
Nocth didn't move.
His expression stayed calm, but something behind his eyes tightened.
"…Are you sure you have the right person?"
His voice was steady.
Almost flat.
"But I don't remember meeting you."
A pause.
"…Not like this."
---
Doro stopped walking.
For a moment.
Then his lips curled upward.
"…Oh?"
He chuckled softly.
"That tone."
He tilted his head further.
"…That's funny."
---
His expression changed.
Subtle shift.
Memory resurfacing.
"…You really don't remember."
A pause.
Then his eyes sharpened.
"Or maybe you're pretending."
---
Nocth's fingers slowly loosened, then tightened again.
Something inside him felt misaligned.
Not fear.
Not confusion.
Something like incomplete recognition trying to form shape and failing.
---
Doro suddenly laughed.
Not loud.
Sharp.
"…Ahh, right."
He scratched the side of his neck as if recalling a childhood scene.
"I remember now."
A pause.
His smile widened slightly.
"There was this kid…"
His eyes flickered toward Nocth.
"…a very cute, stubborn little girl back in those days."
---
Nocth's expression shifted slightly.
Not understanding yet.
But uneasy.
---
Doro continued casually.
"She used to say something really annoying."
He tilted his head.
"…Something about her big brother telling her she didn't need to care what anyone thought."
A faint pause.
His eyes sharpened.
"…That she could be whatever she wanted."
---
Silence dropped instantly.
The room didn't react outwardly.
But something inside Nocth did.
---
His vision blurred slightly.
Not physically.
Internally.
---
A place.
Not this world.
Not this body.
---
A lake.
Still water.
Soft light reflecting across its surface like a memory that hadn't decided whether it belonged to him.
A younger presence stood nearby.
Smaller.
Faint outline.
Warmth that didn't match this world's cold logic.
---
Words echoed.
Not spoken clearly.
But felt.
"I can be anything I want…"
---
Nocth's breathing changed.
Just slightly.
His hand twitched.
---
The vision broke instantly.
---
He blinked once.
Then again.
---
And when his eyes refocused—
his expression had changed.
---
No longer blank.
No longer uncertain.
Something darker surfaced.
Controlled irritation.
"…Who are you."
A pause.
His voice dropped slightly.
"…And how do you know that?"
---
Doro smiled.
Slowly.
Like that was the answer he wanted all along.
"…There it is."
His tone softened.
Almost pleased.
"That look."
He stepped forward again.
"…That's the one I wanted to see."
A pause.
"…Back then and now."
---
Nocth didn't respond.
But his stance shifted.
Subtle.
Balanced.
Like something inside him had decided to stop waiting for clarity.
---
And then—
Doro moved.
---
Not like a trained fighter.
Not precise.
But fast.
Wild.
Unrestrained.
He closed distance in a straight burst, body angled forward, arm already drawn back.
---
Nocth reacted instantly.
He didn't think.
He moved.
---
A step to the side.
A pivot.
A clean strike toward Doro's shoulder—
controlled force, aiming to interrupt momentum.
---
But Doro twisted mid-motion.
Taking the hit partially.
Then laughing through it.
"…Good."
---
He countered immediately.
A low sweeping strike.
Not refined.
But heavy with intent to break stability.
---
Nocth raised his arm.
Deflected.
Footwork adjusted.
A second strike came—
Nocth blocked again.
---
The rhythm changed instantly.
---
Doro attacked like a storm without structure.
Fast.
Unpredictable.
Violent in intent, not technique.
Every movement carried the same idea:
Break. Humiliate. Overwhelm.
---
Nocth responded differently.
His movements tightened.
More economical.
More precise.
Strikes aimed not to destroy—but to correct position.
A modern fighting rhythm.
Controlled pressure.
---
But something was wrong.
---
Doro was smiling.
Even while being hit.
Even while absorbing counter-pressure.
Because every exchange felt like confirmation to him.
---
"…You're still the same," he muttered mid-attack.
Another swing.
Blocked.
"…Just dressed differently."
Another step forward.
"…Still soft in the same places."
---
Nocth's expression darkened.
His breathing slowed.
Focus narrowed.
---
A kick came from Doro.
Nocth blocked—
but the impact still pushed him half a step back.
---
For the first time—
he adjusted.
Not calmly.
But sharply.
---
And struck back.
---
A clean punch landed against Doro's cheek.
The sound echoed.
---
Doro's head tilted slightly from impact.
Then he laughed.
"…There it is."
He wiped blood from his lip casually.
"…That's better."
---
The room tightened.
---
Across the space—
Imuis moved.
---
His posture shifted instantly.
Light flickered around his feet—subtle, unstable, like water reflecting lightning under pressure.
He stepped forward.
Then vanished from his position in a blur.
Reappeared near one of Doro's allies.
---
A quick strike.
Clean interruption.
---
Not destructive.
Disruptive.
Like forcing rhythm breaks into enemy coordination.
---
The ally staggered.
Imuis exhaled.
"…You guys really don't coordinate, huh?"
---
He pivoted again.
Another strike.
Another displacement.
---
His movements felt like fluid under pressure—flowing, but always redirecting force away from himself.
---
One of Doro's allies clicked his tongue.
"…This guy is annoying."
Then rushed in.
---
Imuis sighed.
"…Yeah, I get that a lot."
---
Elsewhere—
the older brother of Doro moved.
---
His body leaned forward slightly.
Then launched.
---
Not like a normal charge.
Like something between impact and descent.
His motion carried weight, but also acceleration—like a breaking wave forced into human form.
---
He slammed toward Imuis.
---
Imuis barely turned in time.
Deflected partially.
But still slid backward.
---
The impact rippled through the floorboards.
---
The older brother smiled.
"…You're slippery."
---
Imuis coughed lightly.
"…And you're loud."
---
They clashed again.
---
Meanwhile—
Ruby's companions stood near the edge of the chaos.
---
One of them muttered:
"…These people are insane."
Another replied:
"…This whole district is insane."
A pause.
Then—
"…Saeverath never sees fights like this outside core territories."
---
Ruby didn't speak.
Her eyes were locked forward.
Shock.
Uncertainty.
And something like reluctant respect.
---
"…They're not normal dwellers," one of her companions said.
"…They're almost—"
He hesitated.
"…Monstrous."
---
Ruby's jaw tightened slightly.
---
The middle-aged woman observed everything quietly.
Her gaze flickered between Imuis and Nocth.
Then lingered longer than necessary.
---
"…Interesting," she murmured.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"That boy…"
She meant Imuis.
"…his movement structure is unstable but adaptive."
A pause.
"…almost like he's refusing to commit to a single style."
Then she looked at Nocth.
"…And that one…"
Her expression shifted slightly.
"…his fighting pattern is wrong."
---
She tilted her head.
"…No Thread signature consistency."
A pause.
"…But no Nullborn instability either."
Her eyes narrowed further.
"…What are you?"
---
Back in the center—
Doro suddenly spoke mid-motion.
"…What now?"
He stepped in again.
A strike came down toward Nocth.
"…All that nostalgia I dropped on you…"
He grinned.
"…and suddenly you're acting tough?"
---
Nocth caught the attack.
For a moment.
Held it.
Then pushed it aside.
---
His eyes sharpened.
"…Stop talking."
---
Doro laughed.
"…Oh?"
Another attack followed immediately.
"…So serious now."
Another strike.
"…Did I hit something sensitive?"
---
Nocth moved.
Deflected.
Countered.
Shifted.
---
Doro took hits.
But never stopped smiling.
---
Heron, meanwhile—
was struggling.
---
Two opponents pressed him from different angles.
He stumbled backward, barely stabilizing himself.
---
"…Seriously," he muttered, blocking a strike.
"…why am I always the one who gets the numbers problem?"
---
A kick struck his side.
He slid.
---
He exhaled sharply.
"…Okay, okay—this is getting annoying."
---
He pushed off the ground.
Forced a reposition.
---
But even as he fought—
his eyes flicked toward Nocth.
---
And he shouted.
"…HEY!"
Nocth didn't look.
---
Heron clicked his tongue.
"…Get your head together!"
---
Doro's ally tried to capitalize on Heron's distraction.
But Heron pivoted—
barely dodging—
then muttered:
"…Yeah, yeah, I hear you."
---
He coughed slightly.
"…But I'm kinda busy over here!"
---
Meanwhile—
Doro stepped in again.
Closer now.
Voice quieter.
More focused.
"…You're not losing control yet."
A pause.
"…That's disappointing."
---
Nocth's eyes narrowed.
---
Doro smiled faintly.
"…Let's fix that."
---
He lunged.
---
And this time—
the strike carried intent heavier than before.
---
Nocth braced.
---
And as the attack closed in—
Doro whispered:
"…Let's see if you remember anything else when you break."
---