You Already Won

Their footsteps echoed through the quiet, cavernous tunnel—somewhere between a dripping crypt and a concert hall carved out of obsidian. The silence should've been unnerving, but Caroline filled it with a constant stream of commentary.

"And this crack in the wall," she said, gesturing dramatically, "clearly tells us that this was once an old volcanic vent—likely part of the Hollow's natural defense ecosystem. Classic dungeon design. A+."

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Jonathan muttered.

She smirked. "Nope. Not a clue. But it helps, right?"

It did. Jonathan realized that—like a streamer narrating over a jump scare—it was her way of dealing with the creep factor. Kept the monsters, and maybe the fear, at bay. And it helped him too. It was easy to forget this was real. That they weren't in a VR sim or an elaborate fever dream. That the blood he bled, and the arm he lost—twice—weren't just cutscene fluff.

"So what did I miss?" she asked casually, stepping over a cluster of glowing fungi.

"Since 2018?" Jonathan said, hopping over a root. "Well, the super flu Covid happened. Twice, technically."

She turned to him, blinking. "Twice?"

"Yeah. First one was world-stopping. Second was more like, 'Ah shit, here we go again.'"

She laughed. "Did people riot?"

"People always riot. But mostly it was just everyone becoming indoor cats. I liked it, honestly. Didn't have to talk to anyone. Just vibed. Played games. Got into shape. Read weird lore blogs. Worked remote. Got a dog for two months, gave him to my neighbor. His name was Beef."

"Beef?"

"He was very round."

She chuckled. "I like that."

"And you?" he asked, genuinely curious. "What's it been like here since… well, forever?"

Caroline's expression turned more thoughtful. "Mostly I Realm travel and it's expensive. Most can't afford it unless you're sponsored, a ranker, or part of a bloodline. I've been to three. One was mostly ocean and clouds—real Studio Ghibli vibes. Another was a desert realm with inverted gravity. And this one? This is the Reaper's Lap compared to the other two. Besides that, I've just been doing quest for my UI and Narloic."

Jonathan raised an eyebrow as she finished her list of visited realms. "Wait, wait. You said you've been to three realms? How the hell do you just—move realms? That's not like hopping servers."

Caroline nodded, adjusting her steps to avoid a jutting shard of black crystal. "Yeah, it's not easy. Each realm is basically its own universe, or whatever passes for one here. Certain planets—usually lesser ones or tourist traps—allow outsiders to enter with permits. Others? You need divine clearance, a bloodline seal, or a fortune the size of a dragon's ego."

Jonathan blinked. "So how'd you do it?"

She smirked. "Got lucky. My system gave me guides and items—Realmjump scrolls, distortion maps, that kinda stuff. It's part of being a gamer-type, I guess. Everyone I've met who came from a game with a UI had similar perks. Not the same, but enough to keep them moving."

Jonathan scowled. "So you're telling me your little emote-spawning UI not only makes food and furniture—but also gives you realm tickets?"

"Yup."

He muttered something under his breath.

"Jealous?" she teased.

"Ha-ha," he deadpanned. "Still—planets, magic, pressure differences… So it's Game of Thrones meets Star Wars, with a pinch of Elden Ring and a dash of Dark Souls."

"Exactly." She smiled. "Except with slightly more emotional damage. Also what's Elden Ring?"

Their banter faded into silence as the sound of shifting gravel and distant growls finally returned.

Jonathan cracked his knuckles. "I think the welcoming committee's finally up."

Caroline's grin widened. "Hope you brought your lightning."

"I brought sarcasm."

"Perfect."

Glowing eyes appeared in the darkness—three figures dragging grotesque, jagged clubs in lazy arcs while the other two gripped warped blade-shards that pulsed with corrupted Ryun. Jonathan tensed as their hunched, armored forms emerged fully into view. They were tall—maybe seven, eight feet—and wrong in the way night terrors were wrong. Fur that flickered like static shadows, jaws split too far, muscles rippling with a rhythm that mimicked both beast and soldier.

"Umbra-Wolves?" Jonathan asked, stepping back.

"Yeah," Caroline muttered, eyes narrowing as the numbers floated over their heads: Level 242. "They're more like Shadow Orc-Werewolves, honestly."

Jonathan's eye twitched. "With armor? And swords? What even is this fantasy logic?"

Caroline didn't respond. She was already stepping forward, four blazing red fox sigil tails blooming behind her—Ryun-encoded and shaped like living whips of plasma.

"I'll take the one on the left," he said, voice light. "You handle the two on the right."

Caroline blinked. "Wow. Such a gentleman."

"You've been here longer," he retorted, stretching his arms as red and black lightning crackled up his forearms.

"So what?"

"So you'll be fine. Besides," he grinned, eyes gleaming, "I believe in equality."

The Umbra-Wolves snarled—grins full of malice—as the cave trembled from the pressure.

The three Umbra-Wolves surged forward with brutal coordination—shadows peeling off their forms like warpaint. Jonathan's fists clenched, and beside him, Caroline's red fox sigil tails flared to full brilliance.

"Let's dance," she muttered.

Caroline struck first. A crimson sigil bloomed in the air, etched with rotating runes from Arc Sigil Unite 4. "Crimson Lock: Glacial Crest!" she declared.

A wall of frost burst outward from the sigil, curling into an intricate trap meant to freeze enemies in motion. For a half-second, it worked—one of the Umbra-Wolves stumbled mid-charge, ice forming around its legs.

But then, the largest of the three howled—a guttural, deep-throated bellow laced with disruptive Ryun. It rippled through the cave walls and shattered the status like glass.

Caroline cursed. "They've got status counters?!"

Jonathan didn't hesitate. He slammed his hand to the stone floor. Red and black lightning snaked from his palm, darting across the rock like jagged veins. The Ryun infused the terrain, preparing an unstable trap just beneath the charging wolves.

Before it could activate—one wolf leapt high and came down hard, its club slamming the earth and detonating a shockwave. The blast hit like a concussive wave, sending both Jonathan and Caroline tumbling back into opposite stone spires.

Jonathan groaned, staggered to one knee, and felt his ribs shift—healing began immediately, blood patching what it could.

The wolves didn't wait.

They charged—one going for Caroline, the other two veering toward Jonathan.

Caroline rolled her shoulders and activated another sigil. "Tail Sync: Hexed Bloom!" Her fox tails split into fiery whips, dancing like serpents. She parried the first strike with a tail whip, then kicked upward—using a Double Jump burst from her passive skilltree.

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In the air, she spun midflip and unleashed a volley of Sigil Shots, projectiles that exploded like red comets. The wolf roared in pain but remained standing.

Jonathan, meanwhile, slid under one wolf's swing and let his Ryun flare out like a shock cloak. He flung twin spears of red-black lightning. They struck—but the second wolf tanked the blow, barreling into him and slamming him into a rock wall. Stone cracked behind his back. The other wolf lunged from the side—teeth aimed for his shoulder.

Jonathan rolled under its bite and brought his palm up, igniting his blood with Ryun. A burst of dense energy launched the beast into the ceiling.

The third wolf turned just in time for Jonathan to appear above it—he didn't teleport, he just moved. With Ryun propelling his body forward, he corkscrewed mid-air, smashing a red-black elbow into the wolf's snout. Bone cracked.

On the other side of the cave, Caroline's battle became a blur of flame and frost. "Grand Sigil: Ruin Waltz!" She summoned six overlapping symbols in the air that detonated in rhythmic explosions, each one chaining into the next like musical cues. Her Umbra-Wolf exploded in staggered pulses, howling until its charred body hit the cavern floor.

Jonathan's remaining wolf reeled—then froze, its head glowing with a purple mark.

Caroline grinned. "Marked him for you."

Jonathan grinned back, blood trickling from his lip. He summoned a concentrated red-black orb of crackling Ryun and lobbed it like a fastball.

It struck the wolf's head, exploding in a fountain of shadows and sparks. The beast dropped.

Only one wolf remained—the bigger one who howled.

It stared at them both. Then it backed away, growling, before vanishing into the cavern's depths.

Jonathan dropped to one knee, panting. Caroline leaned against a wall, catching her breath.

"Okay…" he muttered. "These wolves don't play."

She smiled, tossing him a potion-like flask from her UI. "Yeah facts. I wasn't expecting that."

Jonathan took a swig of the potion, the fluid tingling as it rushed through his system, sealing cuts and stitching muscle in seconds. He grunted and they took off.

"That stuff's better than my healing," he muttered, begrudgingly impressed. "You sure it was a good idea to let him run off?" Jonathan asked, following closely behind, his footsteps echoing lightly on the stone.

Caroline nodded without looking back, tails swaying as she jogged deeper into the tunnel. "Yeah. I marked them before the last one ran." She tossed him a glance over her shoulder. "Remember, if we take too long, the encounter resets. And I don't want to find out if there's a whole other pack waiting for round two. On top of losing the bonus."

Jonathan's eyes lingered for a moment on the fox-like sigil tails sailing behind her, casting rhythmic red glows across the cave walls. He smirked. For all the madness, this was… fun. But he needed a style—he couldn't keep winging it. Not if he wanted to survive the days ahead.

"How do you know it's not a trap?" he asked.

Caroline didn't stop, but her grin told him everything.

"You know how in games there are flair effects? Background markers? Stuff that's just there to look cool?"

He nodded, jogging to keep pace.

"Well here, those are real. Even a basic marker gives me a feed. I can track the target—sense mood, intent, proximity…"

Jonathan's jaw dropped. "That's so broken!"

"Shut up, future king," she shot back with a wink.

Suddenly she threw up a hand, halting them both. "Shh," she whispered, barely audible, her eyes narrowing as the air shifted.

Jonathan caught the vibe and lowered himself behind a jagged rock.

"It stopped moving," Caroline said softly. "Over there. But its confidence just shot up. That means a trap. Probably more of them."

Jonathan's lips curled into a grin. "Can I try something?"

She raised a brow.

"Well, not can I. I'm gonna do it." He stepped forward slightly, letting the red-black Ryun flicker at his fingertips.

Caroline backed up slowly, watching him.

Jonathan closed his eyes, reaching out with his Ryun—not toward his limbs, but outward. Past the rock. Toward the lurking presence of the marked wolf. It pulsed with a strange hint of her energy, like a beacon laced with familiarity.

He focused harder, breathing in slowly.

Then he felt them. One… no, seven more presences hidden in the shadows. Flanking. Above. One beneath. A classic pincer trap.

Good.

He grinned.

The weight of the realm's air pressed against him like wet sand—but it wasn't crushing. Nothing like standing near Jafar. That was pressure that bent reality. This? This he could handle.

He reached with his Ryun again—deeper. He wasn't putting it in himself this time. Instead, he pushed it outward, settling it in a narrow space between the wolves.

It started to bubble.

Then sputter.

The shadows stirred.

The wolves noticed too late.

Jonathan snapped his fingers.

The Ryun detonated in a red-black pulse, the explosion rocking the tunnel and sending a chorus of bestial howls into the air.

Caroline stared at him. "What the hell was that?!"

Jonathan cracked his neck, aura crackling across his body as he bolted forward, energy coiling like a tempest behind him.

"Honestly?" he shouted as he launched into the fray.

"Random. Bullshit!"

His laughter echoed wildly off the cavern walls as he barreled toward the stunned Umbra-Wolves, red and black lightning painting the darkness in chaotic, beautiful arcs.

The explosion left a burn-scar across the cave wall, shadows convulsing in the red and black light. The Umbra-Wolves stumbled—but not for long.

They roared.

And charged.

The first came at Jonathan with its rusted sword, slashing in a wide arc meant to take off his head. He ducked low and slid beneath it, fingers skimming the stone. Red lightning sparked along his arm. He snapped his leg up mid-slide, driving his heel into the wolf's gut with enough force to lift it off the ground.

He spun, Ryun coiling up his arm, and punched straight through the wolf's chest.

A burst of black vapor exploded from its back.

The creature snarled, still not down.

Jonathan grunted—then headbutted it, forcing it into the path of a second wolf's club. The impact shattered its skull in a splash of gore and sent both monsters flying back.

Caroline blurred beside him.

"Ember Fox Sequence: Burning Bloom!" she shouted, hands forming swift signs.

Three sigils spun into the air, glowing crimson, each forming a tail that spiraled outward. Her foot slammed down, and a wave of red heat exploded forward like a pressure blast, knocking two of the wolves into the wall.

One lunged through the fire.

Jonathan met it halfway.

His hands ignited with red lightning. He stepped, pivoted, uppercut the beast under the chin, then launched a Ryun punch to the gut that rippled the air. A shockwave tore through its armor and ribs like paper.

Caroline ducked under a thrown blade, red fox tails snapping around her like dancers. She threw up one hand. "Sigil Chain: Fractal Cage!"

The air shimmered.

Dozens of runes surrounded the wolf in a floating prism, then slammed inward like a spiked jaw. It shrieked—but Caroline was already moving.

A third wolf tried flanking her.

Jonathan blasted it with a sweeping arc of lightning, knocking it into her trap.

Caroline glanced back. "Nice timing."

Jonathan grinned. "You're welcome."

A sudden tremor knocked them both off balance—the last wolf, the marked one, had returned. Bigger. Rage surging through it.

Caroline stepped forward.

"Final Technique."

Her fingers blurred through twelve hand signs.

"Crimson Lattice—Foxfire Garden."

The cave burst into bloom.

Hundreds of sigils spread out like vines, each forming a tiny floating tail of energy. The wolf leapt toward her—and the world ignited.

It was engulfed mid-leap. Every sigil detonated in rapid succession, a controlled symphony of burning red blossoms. The impact was deafening.

When the smoke cleared, the wolves were gone—nothing left but scorched earth, cracked stone, and sizzling red air.

Jonathan wiped blood from his cheek, blinking. "Remind me never to piss you off."

Caroline smirked, breath heavy. "Shut up! You're so corny."

They looked at each other, exhausted—but alive.

Caroline flicked open her tab and sighed. 9 Umbra Wolves defeated. Not bad, but not ideal either. "These things are like cockroaches," she muttered. "Shadowy, armored cockroaches."

"They hit harder than cockroaches," Jonathan said, leaning against the wall and cracking his knuckles. He wasn't even winded. If anything, he looked excited.

He was starting to feel it—the pulse of Ryun in his body, not as some foreign energy, but like a second bloodstream. Red and black lightning crawled over his forearms, low and lazy, as if waiting for his next idea.

Before, Ryun had been wild inside him—raw power and adrenaline, just responding to desperation and flashes of imagination. But now? It was beginning to shape itself to his intent.

That was the trick.

Ryun wasn't like mana or ki. It didn't follow formulas—it followed meaning.

So when he imagined an uppercut, the Ryun knew not just the motion but the purpose behind it. It didn't just enhance his strength—it amplified the will behind his strike. The message. The story of that punch. That's why his lightning struck harder when he was pissed, or why his shields failed when he doubted himself. Ryun wasn't obeying muscle memory.

It was obeying narrative.

And now, he was learning how to weaponize that.

The trick, he figured, was in concision. Clarity of thought. Like trying to tell a story in one sentence—and letting Ryun fill in the rest.

He couldn't be out here yelling every time he threw a punch like some anime protagonist. That was cool once. Maybe twice. But in a world full of hunters, cultists, gods, and gamer girls with spell menus, yelling "ULTIMATE COMBO" every five seconds was a bullet magnet.

Still… he was pretty sure words of power were a thing. They had to be. Why else would his blood thrum when Caroline shouted her big attacks? Why else would the cave shiver when Sšurtinaui spoke her home dialect with force? Maybe names carried weight here. Maybe naming an attack—believing in it—made it real in Requiem.

But for now, he'd keep it simple.

One thought. One movement. One intention.

And Ryun would do the rest.

As they walked, Jonathan glanced over at Caroline. Her fox tails had settled low, lazily swaying like they were bored. She looked relaxed now, scrolling through her tab, probably checking her sub-quests or looted trash.

He tilted his head. "Hey… why do you yell out your attacks?"

Caroline froze for a beat. The tips of her sandpaper-colored hair twitched. Then—blush. A real one. Rosy, hot across her cheeks and ears. Easy to see now that his vision had adjusted to the cave's perpetual gloom.

It hit him just then—he could see really well in the dark now. Not just shapes, but edges. Hints of color. His eyes weren't glowing or anything, but everything was clearer. The darkness didn't hide anymore; it just dimmed. Huh. Another thing to note.

Meanwhile, Caroline turned her head away like a guilty anime character.

"It's… a habit," she mumbled. "In the game, your character automatically shouted their special moves when you activated them. It was part of the immersion. The voice acting was actually really good…"

Jonathan raised a brow. "So… you just yell them out now?"

"I can't help it, okay?" she snapped, though her face stayed red. "It just happens. I hit the motion, the sigil flares, and bam—'Foxfire Torrent' comes out of my mouth like it's gospel."

He laughed. "Damn. Forced avatar characteristics. That's wild."

She shot him a glare. "You wanna talk forced characteristics, future King? You're walking Jafar's reincarnated bloodline and somehow still act like a discount YouTuber."

"Still better than yelling Final Vixen Barrage like it's Saturday morning cartoons."

"Shut up," she groaned.

He grinned to himself. Honestly? Coming here by car might've been the better deal.