A faint beeping rhythm pulled Rina from unconsciousness.

  Warm sunlight filtered through white curtains, casting a gentle glow across a room far too elegant to be a hospital ward. The sheets were silk. The room smelled faintly of lavender. Expensive mana-infusion machines hummed softly across from her bed, their crystalline panels reflecting golden light.

  A private VIP suite.

  Her family’s money at work.

  Her guild’s influence.

  Or maybe A.R.E.S.

  She blinked slowly, vision fuzzy.

  Her ribs screamed.

  Her mana felt like an empty, scraped bowl.

  Her throat was dry as ash.

  Before she could make a sound, a nurse gasped.

  “Miss Everhart—! You’re awake!”

  The door flew open.

  Doctors rushed in.

  Mana scanners flickered.

  A.R.E.S. agents stood in the corner, silent and stern.

  Rina tried to speak.

  “…the…”

  Her voice cracked, barely audible.

  “…the monster. Where is it…?”

  The room froze.

  The lead physician cleared his throat delicately.

  “The… report lists you as the one who defeated it, Miss Everhart.”

  Rina stared blankly.

  “…What?”

  “You were the only surviving hunter on scene,” the doctor continued gently. “We found no one else alive within range. No other life signs. No mana traces.”

  Rina’s breath hitched.

  No.

  No, no, no.

  Her memories came in fragments:

  Dust.

  Lightning.

  A shape in the smoke.

  A broom.

  A flash too fast for the human eye.

  A titan collapsing like a puppet with its strings cut.

  Her heart pounded.

  She pushed herself up, ignoring the pain.

  “There was— there was someone else,” she rasped. “A man. He had—he held a broom—did you evacuate him?”

  The nurse blinked, confused.

  “A… broom?”

  The A.R.E.S. director stepped forward, hands clasped behind his back.

  “Miss Everhart,” he said calmly, “there was no such individual. No male hunter entered the dungeon. No personnel matching that description were found.”

  “That’s not—” Rina swallowed hard. “That’s not possible.”

  “We recovered detailed mana scans,” the director said.

  “Everybody. Every survivor. Every trace.”

  His eyes held something unsettling.

  “We found no one, Miss Everhart… except you.”

  Her blood ran cold.

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  “…Show me the drone footage.”

  The director’s jaw tightened.

  “That footage has been deleted.”

  Rina’s entire body went still.

  “…Deleted?”

  “Your sponsor insisted,” he said. “To prevent panic. The public must not see that creature.”

  Rina said nothing.

  Because she knew something the director did not:

  Her drone had recorded a shadow-copy.

  A private backup only she could access.

  If she said that aloud…

  She wasn’t sure she’d leave this hospital alive.

  So she forced a long, shaky exhale.

  “…I see.”

  The director nodded, satisfied.

  “Rest well, Miss Everhart. We’ll speak again once your vitals stabilize.”

  The doctors shuffled out.

  The nurse adjusted her drip.

  One by one, footsteps faded down the corridor until only silence remained.

  Rina sank back into her pillow.

  Her whole body trembled.

  She waited several minutes—long enough to be sure no one lingered—before she exhaled and opened her HUD with a weak gesture.

  A glowing blue interface blinked to life.

  She navigated her inventory.

  Bandages.

  A broken rapier.

  Her torn combat outfit.

  Her spare crystals.

  And then—

  Her breath caught.

  One item pulsed softly with shifting colors.

  Not silver.

  Not gold.

  But a rainbow.

  Alive.

  Prismatic.

  Empty Skill Book (Recording Mode: SSS+ Only)

  She whispered:

  “…No way…”

  Days ago, she’d set the filter to record only SSS-level skills.

  High-risk. High reward.

  Hopeful. Impossible.

  But now…

  She tapped the book.

  Its metallic pages unfurled, glowing with unnatural light.

  Inside were two entries:

  Origin Rank — Passive Skill

  Time perception expanded beyond human limit.

  Instinctive avoidance.

  Lightning-reflex neural response.

  Origin Rank — Offensive Skill

  A thrust that collapses the target’s core and severs energy flow instantly.

  Rina’s eyes widened.

  “…Two…? But this book… it only lets me choose one…”

  As if responding to her thoughts, a message blinked across the interface:

  “Select ONE skill to imprint.

  All others will be erased permanently.”

  Her pulse thundered in her ears.

  She only had one Empty Skill Book.

  Origin Rank exceeded every known classification.

  This was not just rare.

  This was dangerous.

  Her hands shook violently.

  “…Flercher…”

  The name echoed inside her skull.

  Flercher…

  Where had she—

  The dungeon wall.

  The carvings.

  “Flercher is dead.”

  “Forgive us.”

  “No hope remains.”

  Her breath hitched.

  “…Was that dungeon… related to these skills…?”

  Was the man with the broom related to Flercher?

  Was the titan?

  Was he…

  Human?

  Her heart pounded painfully.

  A skill of this level…

  Not meant for humans.

  Not meant for anyone.

  If she used it—

  Would her body survive?

  Would she explode?

  Would she become marked?

  Would he come back for her?

  “…Why did he even save me…?”

  Why didn’t he stay?

  Why didn’t he say anything?

  Why—

  Why did he fight like someone who had lived a thousand of years?

  She lifted the glowing book to her chest and held it tightly.

  Footsteps echoed faintly outside her door.

  Rina snapped the HUD closed, slipped the rainbow book beneath her blanket, and forced herself to breathe slowly.

  She would tell no one.

  Not A.R.E.S.

  Not her sponsor.

  Not even her family.

  There was only one person she needed answers from.

  The man with the broom.

  And she would find him.

  No matter what it took.