The air outside the Alehouse was no longer calm.
It had become alive.
Not with silence.
But with motion waiting to explode again.
The broken circle of spectators held their breath as the noble boy stepped forward, blood still fresh at the corner of his lip, eyes locked onto Imuis like a nail driven into wood.
The fractured goblet in his hand still shimmered faintly.
Unstable runes flickered across it—like a candle refusing to die.
And then—
He moved.
The first punch came like a hammer.
Not refined.
Not elegant.
Just raw force packed into a straight line of aggression.
The air reacted before the fist even arrived.
Imuis tilted his head slightly.
"Too obvious," he muttered.
Then stepped aside—not a dodge, just a shift.
The punch cut through empty air and struck nothing but displaced wind.
The impact still cracked the ground behind him.
A few spectators flinched.
One drunk man actually laughed.
"Oi! That looked expensive and useless at the same time!"
More laughter followed.
The noble boy's eyes widened slightly.
Then he growled.
Second strike.
Then third.
A rapid chain.
His movements were powerful—but messy.
Each attack came with visible intent, like a shouted sentence instead of a silent blade.
Karkos, arms still folded near the entrance, exhaled slowly.
"…He's too linear," he said flatly.
A pause.
"Every movement is readable. He thinks strength replaces timing."
He shook his head once.
"That's why he keeps losing ground."
And it was true.
Every punch the noble boy threw—
Imuis was already not there.
A step.
A lean.
A shift of shoulder.
Each movement felt light.
Almost lazy.
But every time the noble boy attacked—
he was pushed back a step instead.
Then another.
Then another.
Like the world itself was politely correcting his position.
Imuis sighed mid-motion.
"Seriously," he said, dodging another wild swing without even looking serious, "you're all noise."
He tilted his head toward the noble boy.
"All mouth. Big entrance. Small delivery."
He raised a hand slightly.
"And this part—this is where you start getting tired and emotional."
A drunk spectator shouted:
"Oi! That's my life story!"
The crowd laughed again.
Even a few nervous ones couldn't help it.
The noble boy's jaw tightened.
"Shut up!"
He lunged again.
This time faster.
Harder.
The goblet flared—heat-thread instability surging as he forced more power into it.
His arm shook slightly from strain.
The Saevereth girl's eyes sharpened immediately.
"No—don't force it further," she called out.
But it was too late.
The runes on the goblet flickered brighter.
Barely visible before—
now half-formed.
Like something trying to become real but refusing to stabilize.
A backlash was building.
Even the air around him began to tremble.
Imuis glanced at it briefly.
Then smiled faintly.
"Oh? Now that's more like it."
He stepped forward.
Not away.
Forward.
And the next moment—
he met the punch head-on.
Not with force.
With timing.
A short, clean strike.
Not flashy.
But perfectly placed.
The noble boy's arm jolted backward like it had hit a wall hidden inside air itself.
His entire body staggered.
Karkos muttered again, almost amused.
"See that? He doesn't overpower. He interrupts."
He nodded slightly.
"Every attack the boy throws… Imuis returns just enough pressure to reset his balance."
A pause.
"It's like fighting a door that only opens in one direction—and always shuts on your hand."
The noble boy stumbled back, breathing heavier now.
Blood at his lip thickened.
But his eyes burned harder.
He wiped his mouth.
Then laughed.
Low.
Unstable.
"You think this is funny?"
He lifted the goblet again.
"This is done now."
He charged.
This time, something changed.
His speed increased.
Not smooth.
Not controlled.
But explosive.
Like something inside him snapped into urgency.
He moved faster than before—
and for a moment—
he actually matched Imuis' rhythm.
The crowd reacted immediately.
"OHH—"
"He's catching him!"
Even Karkos' eyes narrowed slightly.
"…He forced synchronization," he muttered.
"That's dangerous."
Imuis tilted his head slightly.
"Oh, there we go," he said casually.
"Now you're trying."
He stepped backward.
Then sideways.
But the noble boy followed.
Punch after punch.
Each one heavier.
Each one more desperate.
Imuis' feet barely touched the ground sometimes—just light redirection steps.
But now—
he was being pushed back slightly.
Just a little.
The crowd leaned forward.
Even the drunk laughter faded.
The noble boy smirked through blood.
"Finally," he hissed, "you're moving."
He swung again.
And again.
And again.
His breathing turned rough.
But his momentum surged.
The runes on the goblet pulsed brighter now.
The backlash warning rising.
But he didn't care.
Imuis sighed.
"Seriously…"
He raised a hand slightly.
"Don't get emotional now. You'll ruin your form."
Then—
he suddenly leaned in.
The next moment—
he moved.
Not backward.
Not sideways.
But through the rhythm.
His feet traced a straight-line blur.
Like a snapped path of motion cutting reality into segments.
He appeared behind the noble boy in a single shift.
Then—
a punch.
Jaw.
Another.
Back shoulder.
Another.
Mid-section.
The crowd couldn't track it.
Only impacts.
One.
Two.
Three.
Like the air itself was striking in different places at once.
Karkos' eyes widened slightly.
"…Now that's technique."
A pause.
"And speed discipline layered over displacement."
He shook his head slowly.
"That boy isn't moving fast… he's choosing where he exists next."
The noble boy froze mid-motion.
Then—
collapsed to his knees.
Blood spilling from his mouth now.
His arms trembled.
The goblet fell from his hand—
and Imuis caught it casually mid-air.
Silence hit the crowd.
Then someone whispered:
"…He just stole it mid-fight?"
A drunk man replied:
"Yeah and I think he did it politely too."
Laughter returned, nervous but real.
Imuis looked at the goblet.
Turned it slightly.
"Hmm," he said. "Souvenir quality."
Then glanced at the noble boy.
"Don't worry, I'll keep it safe."
A grin.
"Probably better than you did."
The Saevereth girl's expression finally changed.
"Enough," she said sharply.
"You will return that immediately."
A few nobles echoed her.
"Yes."
"Return it."
"That belongs to Saevereth lineage."
Imuis blinked.
Then smiled.
"Oh?"
He tilted his head.
"Does it come with instructions? Because honestly, I think it worked better when it was broken."
A few gasps.
The nobles cursed under their breath.
The girl's eyes narrowed.
Then she spoke again.
Cold now.
Controlled.
"As of this moment," she said, "that boy is stripped of his standing."
A pause.
"And his family will be removed from Saevereth records."
She glanced down at the kneeling boy.
"No return. No claim."
The words landed heavy.
The noble boy froze.
Then—
his body shook violently.
A huge cough of blood spilled from his mouth.
And he collapsed fully.
Imuis blinked.
"…Oh."
He leaned slightly.
"Did he just—"
He looked down.
Then scratched his cheek.
"Don't tell me he's dead."
A drunk spectator stepped forward casually, crouching beside the boy.
He poked him lightly.
"He's breathing," he said.
Pause.
"…barely."
Then he looked up.
"Should I clap or…?"
The crowd laughed again.
Even tension cracked slightly.
Nocth stepped forward slightly.
His eyes on Imuis.
Then Karkos.
Then the fallen boy.
Quiet.
Observing.
Karkos noticed him immediately.
But didn't stop him this time.
Imuis turned, tossing the goblet slightly in his hand.
Nocth spoke quietly.
"You really are as good as you say."
Imuis smirked.
"Of course I am."
He stretched his shoulders.
"But being good isn't enough."
A pause.
"My dream is bigger than this."
He lifted the goblet slightly.
"I want to be an interdimensional king."
A grin.
"Someone who does things properly insane."
Karkos let out a slow breath.
"…That is a very far-fetched ambition."
He tilted his head.
"I doubt anyone like that even existed. Maybe it's just a myth people whisper to children."
Nocth spoke softly.
"You never know, Mr. Karkos."
A pause.
"You never know."
His gaze lifted slightly.
"Maybe it's just a story… but some stories have truth buried inside them."
He tilted his head.
"And if people here can summon storms, break stone, bend threads of fate…"
A pause.
"How far did those who came before us go?"
Silence.
Karkos blinked.
Once.
Then exhaled sharply.
"…Now hold on."
He raised a hand slightly.
"I think you've started asking questions that even old monsters don't like thinking about."
A pause.
"And trust me, that is not a compliment."
He rubbed his forehead.
"Even the people who run this world don't ask things like that."
Then he shrugged.
"But it does sound exciting."
A beat.
"…and mildly terrifying."
He looked at both of them.
Then sighed.
"Word of advice."
A pause.
"You two are still young."
His tone softened slightly.
"Enjoy your lives while they're still simple enough to understand."
A faint pause.
"Because once they stop being simple… you don't get them back."
Silence settled.
Not heavy.
Just honest.
Then Karkos turned slightly toward the Alehouse.
Clapped his hands once.
"Alright! Show's over!"
He pointed inside.
"Back in. I've got food. Drinks. And anyone who wants to pretend they weren't watching all of that can do it over my table."
A few spectators hesitated.
Then slowly started moving back inside.
Laughter returned in pieces.
The world relaxing again.
Imuis stretched, rolling his shoulder.
Then casually walked up beside Nocth.
He tapped his shoulder lightly.
"Come on," he said.
"Let's not overthink it."
A grin.
"Just live in the moment."
Nocth didn't respond immediately.
Then gave a small, quiet nod.
Imuis lifted the goblet slightly again.
Spinning it once in his hand like a toy.
He laughed.
Nocth tried to smile.
It came out slightly awkward.
Unpolished.
But present.
Imuis noticed.
"Yeah," he said casually.
"We'll work on that."