"Alright, alright," Hasib admitted, holding up both hands. "You don’t have to keep pretending you don’t already know I’m starving."
Layla laughed and slid the bowl across the table toward him. He leaned down, breathed in the rich, spiced aroma rising off it, and dug in without another word of protest.
"Huh." She propped her chin on one hand, watching him scrape the bowl clean within minutes. "Look at that. Someone’s licking the bowl now."
"Layla," Hasib said between bites, not quite looking up, "tell me something. How does someone end up with a name that pretty?"
She raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting that. "What’s gotten into you?"
"I mean it," he said, setting his spoon down for a second. "You’re genuinely the best chotpoti cook I’ve had in my entire life."
Layla snorted, already reaching for the pot to spoon a second helping into his bowl. "You could’ve just asked for seconds. Didn’t need to lay it on that thick."
"I’m serious. I mean every word."
Evening settled over the city as Rocky stood alone in a thick, quiet garden grove, sword raised, practicing the same sharp sequence of movements against a series of reinforced wooden posts fixed between the trees. His grip tightened around the hilt, and with barely a whisper of breath, he called out—
"Four-step slash."
His blade moved before the words had even finished leaving his mouth, four clean strikes landing in rapid succession without him needing to look at a single target.
He didn’t move for a moment after, staring at the marks left in the wood.
*Still not enough. Not even close.*
He wiped the sweat gathering along his brow and reset his stance. Twenty-eighth attempt. He gripped the handle again, settling into the same starting position, and ran through the sequence once more.
"...No. Still not impressive."
He sank down against the nearest tree trunk, breathing hard, and let his eyes fall shut.
The memory came uninvited, the way it always did.
*Blades. So many of them, all at once, swinging at him with no hesitation at all. Three of them—young, smaller than the rest, but no less desperate—charging in with weapons raised. He’d moved before they could land a second strike. He always did.*
*Their heads had hit the ground before he’d even fully registered what his own hands had done.*
*He remembered standing there afterward, sword still gripped tight, blood scattered warm and wet across his face. Somewhere behind him, someone else had been standing too—sword drawn, a cape catching in the wind.*
Rocky’s brow furrowed, breath hissing out sharp between clenched teeth. A faint crackle of static ran across his skin again, gone as quickly as it came.
"White Nature can bring out every color there is," he murmured to the empty grove. "So why did it all turn red that day?"
He pushed himself back to his feet, resettled into position, and raised the sword once more.
"Eight-step... slash."
Light tore through the darkening grove in one brilliant, blinding flash.
Hasib was making his way down the street when a familiar figure ahead brought him up short.
"Sara!"
She turned, spotting him, and offered a small wave. "Oh—hey, Hasib. How are you holding up?"
"Yeah, I’m fine. What’s that you’ve got there?" He nodded toward the small basket balanced in her arms.
"Rice balls," she said, holding it out toward him without a second thought. "Here, take some."
Hasib accepted without hesitation, a faint warmth creeping into his cheeks that had nothing to do with the evening air.
Sara glanced past him, scanning the street. "Hasib—have you seen Rocky anywhere around here?"
*...Rocky. Again.* He glanced down at the rice balls in his hands. *So these were actually meant for him.*
*Well. She handed them to me, so.*
He took a bite anyway.
A moment later, Rocky appeared through the crowd, his shirt soaked through with sweat, expression unreadable as ever. Sara brightened instantly and hurried over.
"Rocky! Where have you been? I made rice balls today—want to try one? I want to know how they turned out."
"No thanks." He kept walking, barely slowing his stride.
Hasib stared after him. "Huh. Say his name once and he just materializes out of nowhere."
Undeterred, Sara caught up and held the basket out again, more insistently this time. "Just try one. Come on."
Hasib smirked. "At this point I think you’re basically living like a monk, Rocky. Denying yourself all of life’s simple pleasures."
Rocky’s eyes cut sideways toward him, narrowing. "Says the guy who’s already eaten two of them for no reason at all."
Sara couldn’t quite hide the pleased little smile tugging at her mouth.
Rocky finally took one, biting into it without ceremony—and for the briefest instant, something close to surprise flickered across his face, quickly smoothed back into indifference before anyone could call him on it.
Sara caught it anyway. "Good, right? Here—keep the rest."
She pushed the basket into his hands.
"I don’t need—"
"Just take it." She was already turning to go, tossing a quick wave over her shoulder, cheeks faintly pink by the time she disappeared around the corner.
Hasib watched her go, shaking his head. "A little too much energy on that one." He jogged after her. "Hey—wait up, Sara!"
Sara slowed her pace, lost somewhere in her own thoughts. *...Ugh. What’s wrong with me today. Why do I keep picturing the way Rocky’s face looked just now—*
She rubbed her fingers together absently, trying to shake the thought loose, when Hasib caught up beside her.
"Why’s your face all red like that?" He reached a hand toward her forehead. "You running a fever or something?"
She batted his hand away without hesitation. "Idiot. I don’t have a fever."
She turned sharply down the alley leading to her house. "Bye!"
Hasib lifted a hand in a lazy wave. "Bye."
Back in his own room, Hasib dropped onto his bed, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up with him all at once. The moment his eyes fell shut—
A cold, familiar screen unfolded in the darkness.
**[SYSTEM: HELP DORA! SHE IS IN DANGER!]**
**[ENTER / DISMISS]**
Hasib didn’t waste a single second.
"Enter!"
Everything went black.
Then, just as suddenly, light rushed back in—and Hasib found himself standing in the same familiar place as before, sand shifting beneath his boots, the air thick with smoke and noise.
His brow furrowed instantly.
This wasn’t the quiet aftermath he’d left behind. A full-scale battle raged across the desert, minion soldiers locked in brutal, chaotic combat with wave after wave of Hog forces, the clash of makeshift weapons and war cries filling the air on every side.
The nearest minions spotted him first, and a ragged cheer went up through their ranks.
"He’s here! He’s really here!"
"Karon’s back—everyone hold the line, he’s back!"
Soldiers who’d been staggering, exhausted, found their footing again, the wave of relief spreading through the battlefield almost as fast as the fighting itself.
But Hasib’s eyes were already scanning past them, searching—until he found what he was looking for, and his stomach dropped.
Princess Dora was surrounded.
A tight ring of Hog soldiers had closed in around her, cutting her off completely from the rest of her forces, spears leveled inward as she backed away, one hand raised in a desperate attempt to hold them off.
"Dora!"
Hasib tore through the battlefield toward her, cutting down anything that got between them, but before he could close the distance, the ranks of Hog soldiers parted—and something far larger stepped through.
The Hog King towered over the rest of his army, easily twice the height of any soldier around him, armor thick and jagged, tusks curling upward from a broad, scarred snout. His eyes found Hasib across the battlefield, and something like amusement flickered behind them.
Hasib didn’t hesitate.
The moment he laid eyes on the King, every other thought in his head fell away. He surged forward, blade raised, bearing down on the massive figure with everything he had.
It was exactly the distraction the Hog soldiers had been waiting for.
The ring around Dora tightened in an instant, rough hands seizing her arms, wrestling her down before she could break free.
"Let GO of me—!"
Beneath the sand nearby, unnoticed by anyone, a second figure moved—Dora’s friend, tunneling low and fast through the loose earth, closing in from below just as the soldiers forced heavy iron cuffs around Dora’s wrists.
The metal had barely closed when the ground beneath Dora simply gave way, swallowing her whole in a shower of collapsing sand.
The Hog soldiers stood there for a long, stunned moment, staring down at the empty cuffs still clenched in their hands and the settling dust where their prisoner had been standing only seconds before.
Across the battlefield, the Hog King and his soldiers stood waiting.
A translucent screen appeared before Hasib.
[CHOOSE YOUR WEAPON]
Two swords appeared before him—the familiar violet sword and the newly unlocked Black Nature Sword.
Hasib reached for the violet blade first.
I’ve used this one before. I know what it can do.
[VIOLET SWORD SELECTED]
He tightened his grip and stepped toward the Hog King.