(Interesting…)
I then closed my eyes for just a second, felt the weight of the katana in my hand, the texture of the hilt and the cold air filling my lungs.
And most of all, the pulse of the ring on my finger.
Behind me, I could feel Seorin watching again.
Silent.
Evaluating.
The Munches lowered its stance, thick muscles coiling under its gray fur.
No more playful tone.
No more childish curiosity.
Just readiness.
Snow drifted lightly between us.
My ribs still throbbed though.
The ring pulsed once again.
Excited.
I exhaled slowly.
Then—
"Zwooop."
***
(Si Hon, 3rd pov switch — his unstable right now.)
"Zwooop."
Si Hon opened his eyes.
Nothing happened.
No burst of power.
No dramatic aura.
No legendary transformation.
Not even the one where he usually teleports and goes limp… Just the cold forest.
And Seorin…
Sitting very comfortably on top of the pile of dead mole-rats like it was a throne made just for her.
