"Endure it. We'll be out soon."
His voice was low.
Steady.
Not rushed.
77 was already standing in front of her.
Very close.
He bent down.
Fast.
The outer coat slipped off his shoulders.
Unfolded.
Covered her body.
The instant the fabric touched her skin,
the temperature was cut off.
The heat of the flames weakened.
Ros's body trembled slightly.
Not a reaction.
Instinct.
77's arm slid past her shoulder.
The other supported her waist.
He exerted force—
lifting her from the ground.
Clean movement.
No dragging.
No pause.
Her body was light.
No resistance.
No cooperation.
Just lifted.
Her head rested against his shoulder.
Her breathing was shallow.
But present.
Her eyes opened slightly.
Not fully focused.
Her gaze fell on his face.
Paused for a moment.
"…77?"
Her voice was faint.
Like she had just returned from somewhere far away.
77 didn't stop.
He had already shifted her onto his back.
Adjusted balance.
Secured his grip.
Started moving.
"Mm."
A short reply.
Unchanged.
He moved forward.
The path was already set.
No detours.
The ground was uneven.
Debris scattered.
He stepped over it directly.
Each landing stable.
No disruption to rhythm.
Behind them,
that blurred shadow remained where it was.
Like an outline pasted into the air.
It didn't follow.
Its position fixed.
Its shape unstable.
As if it could disperse at any moment.
The next instant—
it contracted inward.
Edges blurred.
Like being hollowed out.
The last trace lingered for a moment—
then vanished.
No sound.
No residue.
As if it had never existed.
At the same time,
another explosion erupted inside the building.
Not a single point—
continuous.
Walls were torn apart.
Fragments blasted outward.
Flames spread through the ruptures.
The brightness flickered.
Air shockwaves rippled outward.
77 didn't look back.
His steps didn't change.
He kept moving forward.
Ros's breath brushed against his shoulder.
Very light.
Very faint.
But continuous.
Her voice came again.
Broken.
"…It hurts…"
A pause.
Breathing faltered slightly.
Then continued.
"…so tired…"
77 didn't stop.
"Mm."
His tone remained steady.
Unchanged.
"You won't have to do things you don't like anymore."
His voice was low.
No emphasis.
Like stating a fact that already existed.
Ros's eyes didn't fully open.
But her gaze stayed there.
Unmoving.
"…Really?"
Even softer.
Almost just airflow.
77 kept moving forward.
No change in pace.
"Mm."
"No one can stop us from going anywhere now."
The path extended beneath his feet.
Obstacles crossed.
Ground compressed.
The firelight stretched farther behind them.
The air temperature gradually dropped.
Ros didn't move again.
Her fingers tightened slightly on his back—
then loosened.
"…It really is you, 77."
She paused.
As if confirming something.
Then her voice came again.
"…My head hurts…"
Her breathing grew shallower.
Intervals lengthened.
"Rest for a bit."
77's steps remained steady.
"Okay."
"When you wake up, everything will be over."
After saying that,
he didn't speak again.
Their breathing gradually lengthened into the same rhythm.
Distance widened.
The firelight was left behind.
The sounds of collapse grew distant.
The air began to stabilize.
They crossed the final boundary.
Stepped out of the isolation zone.
The space opened up.
The ground was intact.
No fractures.
No flames.
The temperature dropped noticeably.
Wind entered from the side,
carrying away the remaining heat.
77 stopped.
Gently.
Not abrupt.
He lowered her from his back.
Supported her with his arms.
Let her rest in his embrace.
Ros didn't respond.
Her head tilted slightly to one side.
No breath.
No rise or fall.
77's fingers touched her neck.
Paused.
Didn't move.
Didn't check again.
The result was already determined.
No pulse.
No breathing.
Her body was completely relaxed.
No residual reaction.
Time froze for a moment.
The air didn't change.
The wind kept moving.
The distant fire still burned.
But in this moment—
no sound reached here.
77 stood there.
Didn't move.
His arms remained as they were.
Didn't tighten.
Didn't loosen.
Just held.
After a few seconds,
he slowly held her a little closer.
Not forcefully.
Just adjusting.
Making her more stable.
His gaze didn't change.
Didn't shift.
Fixed on her face.
No expression.
No movement.
The surroundings were silent.
Only distant collapsing sounds—
intermittent.
Continuous.
He stood there.
Then he spoke.
Very low.
"…Can't even protect a single person."
A pause.
His breathing didn't change.
"…What's the point of having this power?"
At that moment,
the air changed.
Not wind.
Not temperature.
Something deeper.
77's eyes began to change.
Their original form was replaced.
Internal structure reorganized.
A pentagram shape—
stabilized.
No light.
No emission.
But space responded.
He didn't move.
The ground beneath him lost meaning.
The support relationship weakened.
As if he stood on a point,
not attached to the earth.
Power descended from above.
Not the sky.
Not the clouds.
A higher place.
Calm.
Stable.
No inquiry.
Directly entering.
His body showed no violent reaction.
He simply accepted it.
As if he had waited for a long time.
Four years.
Time lost meaning at this moment.
All intervals compressed.
The ability awakened.
The power of the Five Phases.
Not the Five Phases known in this world.
Not elements.
Not natural categories.
But a higher structural allocation.
77 raised his hand.
Slow.
No charge.
Space shifted within his grasp.
A sword appeared.
Not generated from somewhere—
it simply existed.
Massive.
Stable.
Suspended in the air.
The next instant—
it fell.
Piercing into the distant teaching building.
No sound.
But the impact had already occurred.
Structure penetrated.
Walls shattered.
Then—
the sword began to change.
Edges collapsed.
Turned into water.
Flowing outward.
The water dispersed in the air.
Didn't fall.
Changed again.
Transformed into vines.
Extending outward.
Binding structures.
Covering surfaces.
The next instant—
the vines ignited.
Flames spread from within.
Covering the entire building.
The fire existed steadily.
Not dependent on fuel.
It simply existed.
Enveloped.
Consumed.
77 watched all of it.
No expression.
"…Reduced to a meaningless display of power."
His voice was flat.
Like recording.
The next instant—
his eyes changed again.
The pentagram structure collapsed.
Rearranged.
A hexagon appeared.
Stabilized.
Completed.
No transition.
Direct replacement.
He stood there.
Didn't move.
But something had already begun.
Inside.
Not outside.
A crack appeared in his mind.
Not metaphorical—
structural.
Integrity broken.
A thin line emerged.
Then expanded.
No sound.
No form.
But ongoing.
"…Sixth stage?"
For the first time,
his voice wavered.
Slight.
But present.
"…Is this mocking me?"
The next instant—
all suppressed emotions surfaced at once.
Not one by one—
overlapping.
Anger.
Emptiness.
Grief.
No sequence.
No layering.
Erupting simultaneously.
Centered on him—
space began to change.
Not light.
Darkness.
From a single point,
spreading outward.
Swallowing.
It should have been morning.
Light existed.
But it was covered.
No—
replaced.
Layer by layer unfolding.
Ground.
Buildings.
Air.
All consumed.
The expansion didn't stop.
The range kept growing.
The academy—
fully swallowed within.
No boundary.
No end.
The darkness continued.