The aftermath of Eryx's disappearance left the team unsettled.
No body.
No trace.
Only silence—and answers cut short.
Fenrik sat on a stone ledge outside their temporary base, the Wolf Slayer Axe laid across his knees. The silver fur along its blade shimmered faintly, pulsing in rhythm with his breath. Every movement sent pain through his chest, the devil's wound still raw, still dangerous.
Yet the axe felt… alive.
Different.
Taro Hyun stood a short distance away, driving his Tiger Reaper Scythe into the ground again and again, each strike precise, controlled. Sweat dripped down his face, but his eyes remained sharp.
Aoi moved between them, distributing vials of healing liquid gathered from the outer regions of the realm. "Don't push too hard," she warned. "Especially you, Fenrik."
Fenrik gave a weak smile. "If I don't push now, I won't survive later."
No one argued.
They all felt it.
The devils weren't done.
Division of Training
By noon, the Sage arrived.
He didn't announce himself. He never did.
"One direct path leads to death," the Sage said, leaning on his staff. "So we walk many."
He raised his staff, etching glowing symbols into the air.
"The team divides."
Fenrik frowned. "Divide? After what happened?"
"Especially after what happened," the Sage replied calmly.
The groups were formed quickly:
Fenrik was ordered to train alone—against himself.
Taro Hyun was sent to refine combat synchronization with raw aura control.
Aoi was tasked with mastering support magic under pressure.
The others were assigned scouting, survival, and potion retrieval missions.
No one complained.
They understood.
Fenrik's Trial
Fenrik's training ground lay deep within a cracked valley where moonlight never touched the floor. The Sage stood across from him, staff planted firmly.
"You died," the Sage said.
Fenrik stiffened.
"Not physically," the Sage continued. "But your will cracked. The devil humiliated you. You felt powerless."
Fenrik clenched his jaw.
"Yes."
"Good," the Sage replied. "Then face it."
The air shifted.
Suddenly, Fenrik stood alone—yet surrounded.
Illusions formed.
The devil.
The minions.
The moment his body collapsed.
Fenrik's breathing grew uneven.
The illusion devil spoke with the same mocking tone. "Still standing? How adorable."
The Wolf Slayer Axe reacted instantly.
The fur flared.
Fenrik roared and charged.
Again and again, he fell.
Again and again, he rose.
Blood stained the ground—real or illusion, he couldn't tell.
"You don't swing an axe," the Sage's voice echoed. "You answer it."
Fenrik slowed.
He stopped attacking blindly.
He listened.
The axe hummed.
A deep, feral resonance answered from within.
Fenrik planted his feet, steadying his breath.
One swing.
Clean.
The illusion shattered.
Fenrik dropped to one knee, gasping.
The Sage nodded. "You've begun."
Taro's Refinement
Taro's training was brutal in a different way.
He faced no enemy.
Only resistance.
The Sage had sealed his aura, forcing Taro to fight with precision alone. Every mistake sent backlash through his body. His movements grew tighter, cleaner, deadlier.
"Power wasted is weakness," the Sage said.
Taro adjusted his stance, recalling Fenrik's near-death.
"I won't fall behind," he muttered.
The Tiger Reaper Scythe pulsed.
Something ancient stirred within it.
Aoi's Resolve
Aoi stood surrounded by collapsing barriers.
The Sage attacked relentlessly—not with strength, but pressure. Her mana control was tested to its limit. Sweat soaked her robes, hands shaking as she rebuilt shields again and again.
"Support decides survival," the Sage said. "Fail once—and warriors die."
Aoi closed her eyes.
Focused.
Her magic stabilized.
Stronger.
Calmer.
The Watchers
Far above.
On a cliff untouched by the chaos below, the Sage stood again—yet this time, he was not alone.
Beside him was a figure wrapped in flowing, ocean-dark aura. The air around him moved unnaturally, like unseen currents bending reality itself.
The Shark of the Universe watched silently.
"So these are them," he said at last, voice deep and distant. "The wolf… and the tiger."
"They are incomplete," the Sage replied.
"They are alive," the Shark answered. "That alone is impressive."
Below, Fenrik struggled to his feet once more.
The Shark's gaze lingered on the axe.
"The weapon responds quickly," he said. "Too quickly."
The Sage frowned. "You sense it too?"
"Yes," the Shark replied. "The devils will come for it."
A pause.
"And they will fail," he added.
The Sage turned. "You sound confident."
The Shark's aura rippled faintly—like a massive shape turning beneath deep waters.
"I've seen universes fall," he said quietly. "This one hasn't yet."
He took a step back.
"When the wolf learns to swim in deeper tides," he continued, "call me."
And just like that—
He was gone.
End of the Day
Night fell.
The team regrouped—bruised, exhausted, but stronger.
Fenrik rested against a wall, staring at the Wolf Slayer Axe. The fur glowed softly now, steady, no longer wild.
Taro sat beside him.
"We lost," Taro said quietly. "But we're not broken."
Fenrik nodded. "Next time… I won't fall."
Above them, unseen—
The tide waited.