Lyra Swift's POV
I didn't remember falling.
I opened my eyes again, just to make sure I wasn't dreaming.
Still real.
The monster.
No, not a monster.
A mistake.
Dan's mistake.
That idiot dice.
It stood where the Aether Tusk used to be.
But now it was something else.
Bigger. Meaner. One glance twisted my stomach.
The air around it shimmered with heat that didn't feel anything like mana.
Even the other Tusks, already massive, were backing away.
Not from us.
From it.
Not scared.
Just… respectful.
Even monsters knew this one had just become their chief.
My mana wasn't looking good, my body ached, and my thoughts scattered in every direction.
And we still had five Tusks left to deal with.
One moment I was screaming at Dan. The next, he stood right in front of me.
Silence.
Not the peaceful kind, but the kind that settles after something breaks.
After all that yelling, he didn't argue.
Faint sparks still clung to the air from his genius-level mistake.
No snark, no excuses, no trying to talk his way out of it.
Just guilt and his stubborn dignity.
Then, quietly, he drifted back to me.
He plugged himself into the necklace, an apology without words.
He didn't need to say anything. I could tell, he knew he'd screwed up.
Somehow, that made me feel a little bad for yelling so much.
So I stayed quiet.
Let him rest there for once, still and silent.
He felt heavy now.
Not in weight, just in presence.
Settled against my chest, all guilt in cube form.
While the consequences of his mistake stood several meters away—breathing.
Suddenly I heard it.
"Lyra?"
I turned my head.
Levin.
He was sitting up, eyes wide and dazed, felt like his brain hadn't caught up to his body yet.
His voice cracked.
"You're… alive??"
I stared at him.
Seriously?
That was his first sentence?
He said it as if I was supposed to be dead.
Probably whatever nightmare he saw still hadn't let go of him.
I wanted to yell. Maybe throw something. To say something sharp and angry. Or roll over and punch him.
But didn't get the chance.
The Mega Tusk twitched.
Levin saw it and flinched, stumbling backward.
Surprised, shaken—probably still off-balance from whatever nightmare he'd just escaped.
And that one slip...
That was all it took.
Predators don't always chase what's loud.
Sometimes they wait for something weaker to falter.
Levin moved wrong, at the worst possible time.
Right after the beast had finished transforming.
The Tusk turned. Fully.
And charged.
Straight at him.
Because of course it did. The idiot said my name out loud and triggered it.
The beast took a step and the whole forest shook.
I staggered. Couldn't lift my sword. Too heavy.
No time to cast a soft wind spell to shove Levin away—too slow.
Hard wind spell? Would've blasted the fool halfway across the forest.
Too risky.
So I ran.
Hard.
With amped wind magic wrapped around my boots.
I was fast.
I threw myself between them. Coating my body in mana as best I could while pulling out a shield from my space ring.
One step. One breath. One stupid choice.
I got close.
Closer.
Up close made it easier.
Lightning ripped from my body in a crackling cloud—snarling as it crashed into the monster's eyes.
CRACK.
A binding flash. A shriek.
BOOM.
The tusk slammed into my shield, it hurt so much.
I flew.
Rolled.
Slammed into the dirt hard enough to knock the air out of my soul.
Everything hurt. My side burned. My lungs barely worked.
I lay there, sprawled on the ground, staring up—head to the sky, chest heaving.
Breathing.
Barely.
And then I saw her.
The sky wasn't empty.
The fog hadn't left. It hung there watching. Still listening.
That old-hag-mist in the sky.
The one Dan had been talking to.
I groaned and rolled my head to the side, every muscle protesting.
The Big Tusk came into view.
Rolling around and screaming like a baby with thorns in its face.
Serves you right.
I breathed out, ragged and shaky. Just one second. One second of pain-free gloating.
Then I smiled, cracked-lipped and bloody.
I blinded you. Hehehe.
I turned my head, blood in my mouth, and saw Levin frozen solid.
And Dan?
Dan snapped.
He ripped himself out of the necklace.
I could feel he was angry, the air warping around him as if it couldn't stand how mad he was.
He shot into the air, spun once. Glowing with rage and expanded.
Three times his usual size.
"WAKE UP, YOU IDIOT!!"
"YOU ARE GETTING EVERYONE KILLED!"
"You saw it coming and still froze up?! Lyra almost died!"
Levin blinked. "Huh?"
BONK.
The dice smashed him square in the forehead.
Levin yelped, stumbled.
Dan shrank mid-air and landed in front of him, twitching with residual sparks.
"WAKE UP, YOU ABSOLUTE CABBAGE!" Dan barked.
"Whatever nightmare you had was fog-fueled trash. Snap out of it, buddy!"
"You woke up just in time, now help me clean up my disaster for once!"
He looked like he was about to explode again.
Little cube, lots of attitude.
He looked so mad I almost laughed.
Honestly? Kinda cute for a floating cube.
Levin just blinked again.
Then looked at me.
Then the monster.
His hand reached for his sword—slow, but steady.
And finally.
His eyes cleared.
He moved.
The kind of person who couldn't afford to screw up again.
Dan's POV
Levin was up now. Half-standing. Half-confused.
But something in his expression had changed.
He was back.
But he still had the dazed look of someone dropped into the wrong timeline. Wrong medicines, too.
But hey, at least he wasn't standing there like a useless prop anymore.
Good enough.
The ground trembled again.
The Mega Tusk.
Yeah, the one I accidentally turned into a siege monster was shrieking. Blinded by Lyra's lightning, it flailed like a wailing banshee.
The other Tusks?
They were keeping their distance.
Hesitating. Watching their mutated buddy as if they weren't sure if they were supposed to follow or file a formal resignation.
Levin moved cautiously toward Lyra, one careful step at a time, each footfall treating the grass as potential detonation. Smart.
With those Tusks around? You never knew what would set them off.
A glance, a cough, or just breathing too confidently.
I hovered behind him, keeping low.
Lyra was still down—barely kneeling, swaying slightly, one hand pressed to her ribs. Blood trickled from the edge of her mouth, catching on her chin, but her eyes? Still sharp. Stubborn as ever.
But somehow...
She smiled.
Actually smiled.
Right after I smashed Levin's forehead with my face.
Seriously, what is wrong with this girl?
Her brain must be wired with fireworks. But fine. She was alive.
That's all that mattered.
Levin knelt beside her, hands shaking. "You okay?"
She didn't say a word, lifted a shaky hand and gave him a thumbs up.
"Okay, that's... mildly reassuring," he mumbled, clearly unconvinced but holding it together.
I scanned the field again—ten meters wide. My vision stretched as far as it could.
Anything?
Anything at all that could help?
Nope.
No miracle. No terrain gimmicks. No big secret switch labeled "Plot Armor ON."
Five oversized rage beasts and the boiling stew of regret inside my core.
Then I looked up.
The fog was still there.
Floating above. Watching. Not attacking.
I tried my luck.
"Hey. Lady in the mist," I muttered under my breath. "You gonna lend a hand or just sit there eating popcorn?"
Silence.
No reply.
Of course not. She already tried to kill Lyra and Levin.
I was probably on her emotional blocklist.
Then I heard it.
A voice.
Soft. Distant. Floaty as ever.
"I don't like that girl," the mist said.
Before I could reply—
"I ALSO HATE YOU!" Lyra snapped, glaring straight at the fog.
Her eyes full of mortal-nemesis energy ready to duel it to the death.
My processor stuttered.
What the hell?
Was this some kind of... spectral catfight?
Levin blinked, "Am I seriously ranked lower than a fog? You couldn't talk to me, but you've got time to argue with mist?"
Man, I really pity Levin sometimes.
And just then—
Movement. Subtle. Clean. Focused.
Kevin.
Tucked up in a tree full smug owl energy.
Watching from above.
Of course he was.
Totally not sarcasm.
Great. He was here.
Did that mean we were totally screwed?
…Or maybe not?
If this really was beyond saving, he'd have stepped in already.
Right?
So it means we still have a shot.
Or maybe he just wanted to see if our funeral would be entertaining.
Hard to tell with that maniac.
Still, his presence gave me a weird sliver of confidence.
"I've got a plan," I said suddenly.
Probably lying.
I didn't have a real plan.
Haha.
Just a loud idea wearing confidence as a disguise.
But saying something always sounded better than full-blown panic.
"Lyra, how long does your wind-speed-boost-thingy last?"
She groaned. "About five minutes… if I don't keep channeling."
"Five minutes is plenty," I lied again.
I turned to Levin. "Just block stuff. Swing at things. Try not to die."
"Yeah… sure," he muttered. "I'll try not to die too fast."
"Lyra sweetie, you hang back. Support if you can. You've earned your nap."
Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second—then gave a small nod, she understood the assignment.
She knew. She needed to recover before jumping back in.
Yeah. Rest now. Smash things later.
Totally her style.
The ground shook again.
Our grace period ended.
The Mega Tusk shrieked—louder now. Angrier. Threw its head back and howled, a broken metal screech that rattled the branches. Even the trees seemed to flinch.
A sound like iron claws dragging straight down your spine.
It wasn't random.
It was a command.
The others straightened.
Confusion gone.
Eyes locked forward.
Tusks dropped.
Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.
Four monsters now facing us.
Charging with the force of an apocalypse cavalry.
The fifth one? Still crying about his eyeballs.
Hello—I'm injured, but go kill them anyway!
(That's my best guess at what the command translated to.)
Fantastic.
One charged.
The others followed.
Levin stood protectively in front of Lyra, sword raised, while I hovered just above them—tense, waiting, watching.
Luckily, the mega Tusk was still taking its sweet time.
"Alright," I muttered. "Damage control time."
"Levin! Sword ready!" I shouted.
"Took you long enough. I'm already geared up," he said, jaw clenched. "No more mistakes."
"Lyra—buff me!"
"...What's a buff?" she asked, dead serious.
My soul briefly left the chat. "Cast the wind spell! The one that makes me fast! Come on, wind gremlin, keep up!"
She didn't answer.
Her glare said everything. She raised her hand.
Magic sparked to life—warm, wild, sharp.
It hit me like a slap from a hurricane.
Speed: Doubled.
Brain: Panicking.
Plan: In shambles.
But hey—at least I was glowing.
Wind surged through me, all the fury of a storm packed into something way too small. My whole core buzzed, my edges sparked.
This wasn't just speed—
It was unhinged-contained chaos.
And the battlefield?
Just snapped into motion.
I moved.
Game on.