Beyond Existence

Recovery

The red-haired young man's eyes widened in shock as Ryan's fist shattered his blade and drove into his gut. He felt his internal organs being crushed and spat out a mouthful of blood as the force of the punch trew him into the air, crashing him into the remains of a ruined house.

Pain wracked his body, sharp and thrilling, but before he could process it, his danger sense kicked in. He instinctively rolled to the side just in time to avoid Ryan's follow-up strike, which collapsed the already fragile structure with a deafening crash.

A bead of sweat trickled down the young man's temple. "If he hits me again, I'm dead," he muttered through clenched teeth, clutching his bruised abdomen. "This might be a bit troublesome... guess I'll have to use that."

Ryan, seemingly unfazed by the destruction, emerged from the rubble, his fist still clenched, and began advancing on his adversary. His steps were slow, deliberate, and each one made the earth tremble beneath them.

The young man could feel the immense pressure radiating from Ryan, a primal force that made him feel like prey before a predator. His jaw tightened in disgust at his own perceived weakness.

"I don't like this idea... but it seems you won't go down easy," the young man muttered. Reaching into his cloak, he pulled out a small ball and hurled it at Ryan. The ball exploded, engulfing Ryan in a thick green smoke.

"Even an elephant would drop dead in seconds from that...," the young man mussed. "Now that I think about it, he wasn't infected like the others. Guess you were just unlucky."

He turned to leave, confident in his victory, but froze as an overwhelming wave of bloodlust washed over him, heavy and suffocating. His eyes snapped back to the smoke, where Ryan, furious and very much alive, emerged, charging at him with lethal intent.

The young man barely had time to brace himself, crossing his arms in defense as Ryan's fist slammed into them. He felt the bones in his arms shatter under the force, the impact driving him backward, his feet carving deep grooves into the ground.

Ryan followed up with another punch aimed at the young man's head, but just as it was about to connect, Ryan collapsed, his body finally succumbing to the poison. The young man let out a deep breath. He had barely escaped death.

With one arm hanging uselessly at his side, he reached for his broken blade, intending to finish the job, but before he could strike, something whizzed through the air toward him. Instinctively, he swung his blade, shattering the object—a bottle of ale.

He glanced up in the direction it had come from and saw two men rushing toward him, swords drawn. It was Hunt and Lock, their expressions grim and ready for a fight.

"Nah, this is definitely more than I'm being paid for," the young man muttered in frustration. He fumbled in his cloak and threw another ball to the ground, this one releasing a thick white smoke.

Lock moved quickly, swinging his sword to create a gust of wind that blew the smoke away, but by the time it cleared, the young man was gone.

Hunt rushed to Ryan's side, checking his pulse. "It's weak, but he's still kickin'... Gimme a hand, will ya?" he called to Lock.

Ryan's eyes opened to a vast, boundless white expanse. He turned, searching for anything familiar in the emptiness, but there was nothing. "Where am I? What happened?" he murmured, confusion gnawing at him.

"Ryan..."

The voice, soft yet distinct, came from behind. Ryan spun around to find Fild between Daniel and a young girl around Daniel's age standing there, their expressions calm. Relief flooded through him as he rushed to them, placing his hands on Fild's shoulders.