Aomi steps off the dead gorilla, his feet sinking slightly into the pool of blood beneath its enormous corpse.
He walks away without sparing the beast another glance.
As he moves, the wounds covering his body gradually close.
Torn flesh knits itself together, bruises fade, and the blood running down his face slowly disappears as his body returns to its former condition.
Before long, there is hardly any sign of the brutal battle that has just taken place.
Aomi approaches Níng, who remains seated on the ground, staring blankly at the spot where he had been buried beneath the mountain of rubble.
She still hasn’t fully recovered from what happened.
Only when his shadow falls over her does she finally lift her head.
Her eyes are red and swollen, with tears still clinging to her eyelashes.
The moment she recognizes him standing before her, her expression changes.
Relief.
Anger.
And a lingering fear she cannot quite put into words.
She abruptly rises to her feet and begins pounding his chest with both fists.
“Idiot! You’re an idiot!”
Her little fists strike him repeatedly, though they barely make him move.
“Don’t scare me like that! I thought you were gone forever!”
Her voice cracks toward the end.
Aomi looks down at her without saying anything.
Níng continues hitting him for a few more moments, but her movements gradually weaken.
Eventually, she grabs the front of his robe with both hands, clutching it tightly as though she is afraid he might disappear if she lets go.
Her fingers tremble.
She lowers her head, hiding her expression from him.
“…”
Aomi watches her quietly.
He could easily tease her about crying over something so trivial.
After all, hadn’t he survived?
But looking at her trembling hands, he decides against it.
Instead, he reaches down and pulls her to her feet.
“Don’t worry. I told you I would never leave unless you wanted me to, got it?”
Níng slowly raises her head.
She searches his face for a moment, as if trying to determine whether he is telling the truth.
Then she reluctantly releases his robe and gives a small nod.
“…You’d better keep your promise.”
“Of course.”
Aomi answers without hesitation.
Whether she believes him or not is another matter entirely.
He turns his attention toward the newly opened gate, then gives her a gentle nudge.
“Come on. We still have somewhere to go.”
Without waiting for a response, he walks toward the door that has appeared beside the throne.
Níng watches his back for a brief moment before quickly following him.
She hurries to catch up, unwilling to let him get too far ahead.
…
The next chamber resembles a small garden.
Colorful butterflies flutter between patches of flowers, their delicate wings catching the light.
The atmosphere is peaceful, almost dreamlike, a stark contrast to the bloody battlefield they have just left behind.
At the center of the garden sits a copper pot.
Aomi approaches it with a hint of curiosity.
He leans forward and peers inside.
Nothing.
He straightens up.
Then he leans down again, just to make sure.
Still nothing.
“…”
Aomi narrows his eyes at the pot.
What kind of place leaves an empty pot lying in the middle of a garden?
He circles it once, inspecting its surface before turning it over and examining the bottom.
Meanwhile, Níng wanders around the garden, occasionally stopping to observe the butterflies or inspect the flowers growing nearby.
“Aomi, look at these butterflies! They’re pretty.”
“Hm.”
“They don’t even seem afraid of us.”
“Hm.”
Níng glances at him.
“…Are you even listening?”
“I’m investigating.”
“Investigating an empty pot?”
“Precisely.”
She stares at him for a moment before turning away with a faint pout.
Aomi continues his examination for a little longer.
When he fails to discover anything unusual, he finally grips the rim and lifts the pot.
Something slips out from underneath it.
A scroll falls to the ground.
Aomi pauses.
He looks at the scroll, then at the pot in his hands.
“…So that’s where you were hiding.”
He sets the pot aside and bends down to pick up the scroll.
Níng notices the movement and immediately approaches, peering over his shoulder.
“What is that?”
“A refinement recipe, perhaps.”
Aomi carefully unfurls the scroll.
Written across its surface are the names of two ingredients.
Three White Spider Lilies.
Three Guardian’s Glowing Stones.
He reads the words once.
Then again.
His expression gradually changes as a thought occurs to him.
Each chamber holds an ingredient.
The gorilla had been guarding the previous chamber, and now they had discovered a refinement recipe here.
Perhaps the entire place had been designed as a series of trials, with each chamber containing something necessary to proceed.
Aomi’s gaze shifts toward the entrance they had used earlier.
If that is the case, then they might have overlooked something.
He rolls the scroll up and rises to his feet.
“Níng, let’s go back.”
“Huh? Why?”
“To collect something.”
“What something?”
“You’ll see.”
Aomi is already walking away by the time he finishes speaking.
Níng looks from the scroll to the empty pot, then toward the exit.
“…Why do you always do this?”
She sighs and follows him.
After all, leaving him alone for even a moment seems like a terrible idea.
…
Back in the previous chamber.
The enormous gorilla’s corpse remains sprawled across the ground, surrounded by broken stones and scattered rubble.
Aomi stands before the beast, examining its massive body once more.
He glances at its limbs, then at its chest before finally looking toward its neck.
If his suspicion is correct, then the ingredients should be somewhere in this chamber.
But where?
He folds his arms and considers the possibilities.
Perhaps the gorilla had been protecting them.
Or perhaps the ingredients had been hidden somewhere in the chamber all along.
Behind him, Níng begins searching the ground.
She carefully steps over the scattered rubble, occasionally crouching to inspect something that catches her eye.
Most of what she finds is nothing more than broken stone.
Then, as she approaches the gorilla’s neck, something catches her attention.
A pale flower lies among a large number of glowing stones.
Níng stops.
She bends down and brushes away the dirt surrounding the flower.
Its white petals are delicate, resembling a spider’s legs spreading outward.
Her eyes brighten.
“Aomi! I found something here!”
Aomi immediately turns around.
The next instant, he jumps down beside her, landing with enough force to splash blood across the ground.
“Look! Isn’t this what was written on the scroll?”
Aomi follows her finger.
One White Spider Lily.
And scattered around it are far more than three Guardian’s Glowing Stones.
He crouches and picks up the flower carefully.
After examining it for a moment, he reaches for one of the glowing stones.
The ingredients match the recipe.
Aomi turns the stone between his fingers before putting both ingredients away.
“Good. Let’s go.”
Níng blinks.
“That’s it? We’re leaving already?”
“What else do you want to do? Have a picnic?”
She looks at the blood-soaked ground.
“…Absolutely not.”
“Then let’s go.”
Aomi turns and walks toward the exit.
Níng quickly follows, taking one last glance at the gorilla’s enormous corpse.
She shudders.
Even now, remembering how Aomi had been buried beneath all that rubble makes her chest tighten.
She shakes her head and hurries after him.
No point thinking about it.
He’s alive.
That’s what matters.
…
They return to the garden chamber.
Aomi sits down in front of the copper pot and places the opened scroll beside him.
He arranges the ingredients according to the recipe, checking each one before beginning.
Then he turns toward Níng.
“Níng, keep watch while I refine this spirit.”
Níng straightens immediately.
“Understood!”
She takes her position nearby, keeping a careful eye on the garden and its surroundings.
Aomi shifts his attention back to the pot.
He begins the refinement.
The process takes time.
He follows the instructions on the scroll, carefully combining the ingredients and directing his energy into the copper pot.
The atmosphere around him gradually changes as the refinement progresses.
Níng watches from a short distance away.
At first, she remains alert, scanning the garden for any possible threats.
After a while, however, her attention begins to drift toward Aomi.
She studies his concentrated expression.
The way he handles the refinement.
The complete lack of concern on his face, as though nothing in the world could possibly go wrong.
She remembers the gorilla.
The mountain of rubble.
The terrible moment when she thought she had lost him.
Her fingers curl slightly.
“…Idiot.”
She mutters the word under her breath, but there is no real anger behind it this time.
After a moment, she turns back toward the garden and resumes her watch.
She will scold him properly later.
For now, she needs to make sure nothing interrupts him.
Time passes.
The butterflies continue fluttering through the garden, and the copper pot remains motionless before Aomi.
Eventually, the refinement reaches its final stage.
The energy surrounding the pot begins to settle.
Aomi opens his eyes.
“It’s done.”
He withdraws his hands and watches the copper pot expectantly.
For all the trouble they have gone through to obtain the ingredients, he hopes the result will be worth the effort.
A faint movement comes from inside the pot.
Then—
Flap!
A large crow emerges.
It spreads its wings and flies out of the pot before landing nearby.
Silence.
Aomi stares at the bird.
The crow tilts its head.
Aomi continues staring.
His eyes widen slightly.
“…A crow?”
He leans forward, examining the bird from a different angle.
Black feathers.
A sharp beak.
Two ordinary-looking eyes.
And a pair of wings.
A crow.
Just a crow.
All that trouble.
All that searching.
All that refinement.
And this is what he gets?
Aomi slowly straightens his back.
He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.
Calm down.
Calm down.
Everything has its own use.
There must be something special about it.
Perhaps its abilities are hidden.
Perhaps it possesses an extraordinary talent.
Perhaps its appearance is simply misleading.
Yes.
There must be a reason.
He opens his eyes and examines the crow again, desperately searching for anything that might justify all the effort he has put into refining it.
Meanwhile, Níng approaches the bird.
She looks at the crow.
Then at the copper pot.
Then back at the crow.
“…A crow?”
Aomi gives a slow nod, his gaze never leaving the bird.
“Apparently.”
Níng crouches beside it and carefully reaches out.
The crow doesn’t resist when she picks it up.
She holds it in both hands, inspecting its feathers with genuine curiosity.
“It’s quite big.”
“Hm.”
“And its feathers are pretty smooth.”
“Hm.”
“It looks healthy, too.”
“Hm.”
Níng glances at him.
“…Why do you sound so unhappy?”
“I’m not unhappy.”
“Then why do you look like someone stole your lunch?”
Aomi turns his head toward her.
“I don’t look like that.”
“You do.”
“I don’t.”
“You really do.”
Aomi falls silent.
He decides that arguing with her is a waste of time.
Instead, he looks back at the crow, trying to detect some hidden quality that he might have missed.
Nothing comes to mind.
Perhaps he should examine its abilities later.
Yes, that would be sensible.
He nods to himself, satisfied with this conclusion.
Then he notices something.
Níng is still holding the crow.
More importantly, she seems rather pleased with it.
Aomi slowly turns his head toward her.
His lips part slightly.
For a moment, no words come out.
Níng notices his gaze and looks up.
“What?”
Aomi stares at her.
She looks at the crow.
Then back at him.
After repeating the action several times, her brows gradually draw together.
“…What? Why are you staring at me?”
“You claimed it, idiot.”
Níng blinks.
“Claimed what?”
“That crow.”
“Wha—”
Her expression freezes.
Slowly, almost mechanically, she lowers her head and looks at the bird resting in her hands.
The crow tilts its head at her.
She tilts her head back.
For a few seconds, neither of them moves.
Then Níng’s eyes widen.
“Wait.”
She looks up at Aomi.
“You’re saying this spirit belongs to me?”
Aomi shrugs.
“You picked it up.”
“That’s not what I—”
She stops.
Her gaze returns to the crow.
She carefully turns it around, examining its wings, its beak, and the feathers covering its body.
A spirit.
Her very own spirit.
After everything that has happened, she has finally obtained her first spirit.
Níng’s lips slowly curl upward.
Then she pauses.
Her smile disappears.
She looks at the crow again.
“…My first spirit is a crow?”
Aomi looks away.
He suddenly finds the butterflies in the garden rather interesting.
Níng notices.
Her eyes narrow.
“Aomi.”
“Hm?”
“Why are you looking away?”
“I’m appreciating nature.”
“You’re avoiding my question!”
“Am I?”
“Yes!”
She lifts the crow slightly, holding it up between them.
“Look at it! It’s a crow!”
“I can see that.”
“Then why aren’t you saying anything?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know!”
Níng stares at him, at a complete loss for words.
The crow lets out a short caw.
“Caw!”
Silence follows.
Níng slowly lowers the bird.
She looks at it.
It looks at her.
“…”
Her shoulders droop.
My first spirit…
Is a crow?
She had imagined countless possibilities.
A fierce beast, perhaps.
A beautiful spirit with mysterious abilities.
Maybe even some extraordinary creature that would make others stare in awe.
But a crow?
She turns the bird slightly in her hands, hoping to discover something remarkable about her newly acquired spirit.
Perhaps it has a special ability.
Perhaps it can fly exceptionally fast.
Perhaps it can—
“Caw!”
The crow flaps its wings.
Níng stares at it.
“…At least you can fly.”
Aomi finally lets out a quiet breath.
Good.
At least one of them seems to have accepted the situation.
He rises from his seat and brushes the dust from his robe.
“Well, since you’ve claimed it, you should take responsibility for it.”
Níng looks up sharply.
“Responsibility? For what?”
“Feeding it. Looking after it. Training it. All the things people do with spirits.”
“But—”
She looks down at the crow again.
The bird caws as if agreeing with him.
Níng’s face twists.
“…You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Not at all.”
“Liar!”
Aomi turns toward the exit, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Come on. Let’s see what your new spirit can do.”
Níng remains where she is for another moment, holding the crow against her chest.
She looks at its black feathers one last time.
Then she sighs.
“…Fine. But if you turn out to be useless, I’m blaming Aomi.”
“Caw!”
The crow flaps its wings in protest.
Níng freezes.
She looks down at it.
“…Did you understand me?”
The crow stares back at her.
Aomi stops walking.
For a moment, he glances over his shoulder at the pair.
Then he shakes his head and continues toward the exit.
This place is getting stranger by the minute.
Behind him, Níng hurriedly follows, carefully carrying her newly acquired spirit.
Her first spirit.
A crow.
She still isn’t sure whether she should be happy or disappointed.
Perhaps both.
Either way, she has a feeling that her life is about to become much more troublesome.
But another wall slides open.
” There it is!”
Ishiki rushes into the garden chamber, his eyes are fixed and his finger pointing at the crow in Níng’s hands.