Footsteps.
As the plane lands and the other passengers begin to get out, their conversation still ensues. They don't even notice they've reached the lobby.
"Oh… seems like it's over," she remarks.
"Yeah. It really is over," Tristan replies.
"So I guess this is where we part ways. I had a nice time talking to you," she says.
"Yeah. Me too," he replies. Disappointment creeps into his heart.
Should I ask her for her number? No, no, I can't—that'll be weird… right? Yeah. I-it will be weird. I don't even know her that well, he thought.
He wants some form of validation, a testament to their connection, even if their interaction was short. But he hesitates. Something stops him—not fear of his impending end, not the awkwardness of the moment. He just feels distant. He undeniably likes her; he's never felt this way before. But he still hesitates. Does he really deserve her number after just talking to her? Will he come off as pushy?
She notices his hesitation. She doesn't ridicule him, but neither does she grant him her number.
She just smiles—soft, knowing—and leans closer.
"If we meet again… I'll give it to you then," she whispers.
"Meet… again?" he mumbles, embarrassment etched across his face. Even then, he lets out a chuckle. He feels relief—relief that he didn't need to tell her how he feels. She just knows, and that's why he can't help but like her.
"Because if we meet again…" she says as she walks away, still facing him, her eyes shining, "…then I'll know it's fate."
A pause.
"If we meet again…" he mumbles, "…then we will be fate."
He watches her disappear into the crowd. His chest tightens, a smile forming on his face, her silhouette etched into his eyes.
"I pray we meet again," he says.
---
The country of Vakil. A beautiful land whose history dates back to the 1700s—long before the appearance of gates and the birth of hunters. It was a popular tourist destination for those coming to Unika.
In the city of Venï, deep within a forest, stands a house. And within that house, an old man resides—secluded from the outside world, yet still informed of events beyond his domain.
This man was once known as—no. That would be disrespectful.
He is the strongest hunter in existence. He secluded himself to master his craft and attain eternal enlightenment.
He is known as Varek, God Amongst Men.
---
"Finally… I'm he—"
"Draw your sword," Varek declares. "Let me see where you stand."
Tristan doesn't hesitate. His eyes lock onto Varek as he unsheathes his sword.
"COME!!" Varek exclaims.
Tristan steps forward, his dominant foot planted ahead, the other behind. His back straight, wrists at waist level, grip tightening. His blade faces forward, unrestrained mana exuding from it.
He dashes forward at incredible speed, striking first—a lethal horizontal slash aimed at the left side of Varek's neck.
Varek's sword moves faster, blocking it effortlessly.
Tristan leaps one pace back, studying his opponent for any opening. He channels mana into his legs, target in sight.
He lunges, aiming a stab at Varek's heart.
Varek parries. The weight of his counter sends Tristan's hand back, disrupting his balance.
Tristan activates foresight.
Nothing appears.
A single downward slash.
Sensing danger, Tristan evades, using the remaining mana in his legs to propel himself out of the blade's path. The ground shatters beneath the blow.
Seizing the opening, Tristan evades to Varek's right, plants his foot, and swings upward—aiming to sever Varek's right hand.
Clang.
His sword crashes against a coating of mana enveloping Varek's body.
"Not bad," Varek proclaims. "Show me more."
Varek retaliates with a powerful back kick to Tristan's abdomen.
"Ugh!" Tristan groans as he's sent flying into a nearby tree, destroying it on impact.
Varek gives him no time to recover and dashes forward.
Tristan activates foresight.
"A horizontal slash!" he exclaims.
He ducks just in time. The surrounding trees—and the one he struck earlier—are cleaved cleanly in half.
Tristan counterattacks, slashing horizontally toward Varek's waist.
Varek leaps back, landing cleanly. Sword raised overhead, he shifts his center of gravity and swings downward in a single vertical motion.
Foresight activates.
Time slows. Tristan raises his sword, placing his left hand beneath the flat of the blade to steady it, spreading the force. Mana floods his legs, forearms, and weapon.
Boom.
The shockwave tears through the ground, dust clouds surging outward.
Tristan's hands tremble. His breathing grows heavy. He looks up—only to see disappointment etched across Varek's face.
"Is this the power of today's S-ranks?" Varek scoffs. A pitiful sight—one of the top five hunters kneeling after mere exchanges.
Still, Varek notices the determination burning in Tristan's eyes.
"Come," Varek says. "Let us have tea. It has been a long time."
---
As they sit together, Varek observes Tristan closely.
"Are you afraid of death?" Varek asks.
"I—I mean… is there anyone who isn't?" Tristan replies, forcing a nervous smile.
"Humans do not fear death," Varek proclaims. "They fear the future."
"…."
"If a person is held at gunpoint, they are not afraid of death—they fear the pain the bullet will bring," Varek continues.
"A person who falls from a great height does not fear death, but the pain of landing."
"The fear of death is merely the fear of its aftermath," Varek says.
"And yet, you fear death even when your life is not being threatened. Why?"
"…."
"I had a dream," Tristan finally says.
"In that dream, I died… over and over and over again. In the same place, in the same way, to the same thing, at the same time."
"There was a moment where I evaded death—but it still came again. It was a cycle."
"When I woke up, I felt relief. Glad to be alive. Glad to avoid death."
His body trembles.
"But that's what was strange… because I hadn't even died yet."
"When I came back to my senses, I was at the SS-rank gate. It felt familiar. I knew that if we entered… we would all die."
"I begged my teammates not to go in. Thankfully, they listened."
"Ever since then, I've trained relentlessly. It felt like I had to become stronger—to avoid my fate."
"…."
"Hmmm," Varek murmurs. "So you came here because you hit a wall in your growth."
"Y-yes!" Tristan replies.
"Very well," Varek says, rising. "Follow me."
"I shall help you overcome your fate," Varek declares.
"For I will not sit idle and watch my disciple cower before a concept as ridiculous as death."