It had already been a full minute since her entire team had been wiped out—effortlessly, like something out of a nightmare.

  Makina had completely abandoned the idea of firing from a distance. She needed to draw Lorelley’s attention, to pull the insect away from her teammates. In short, she had decided to become bait.

  Now she moved frantically from side to side, alternating between gunfire and charges in a desperate mix of techniques that drained her Resonance Points at an arming rate. Sweat rolled down her neck, her jaw clenched so tightly it cracked.

  “Come down here, bastard! Fight me head-on!” she roared, her words dripping with frustration.

  The insectoid didn’t obey. Lorelley kept his distance—just far enough to stay out of reach, but never enough to flee. A maddening tug-of-war.Every attempt to get close was repelled by vomits of acid or bursts of poisonous spores. Its speed made it untouchable, a ghost dancing between bullets.

  Think… Think, damn it! How are you going to win, Makina Rosewell?

  The situation made her sick to her core.

  The Floor Boss had overwhelming physical power—especially for someone like her, a precision shooter, not a close-range fighter.Ideally, she’d attack from afar. Ethereals usually cked defensive mechanisms when they specialized in one trait: if they were strong, they were vulnerable to ranged combat. But not this one.

  If she kept her distance, it spat acid. If she got too close, it would unleash pollen—or simply crush her with brute strength.

  And speed? Forget it. She couldn’t even track it clearly enough to predict its movements.

  A dead end.

  That was the only conclusion her mind could reach.

  A damn dead end, where it was only a matter of time before she broke.

  And worst of all, Nene—the rookie Hunter they’d hired just for today—was frozen in fear.

  “Nene!” Makina’s voice cracked like a whip as she pointed toward her. “Move your ass and get those idiots out of here! I’m begging you! That thing won’t attack you—it’s locked on me!”

  At least Makina wanted to get her teammates out of danger. But Nene didn’t respond. Her eyes were empty, unfocused. Makina was nearing the edge of her mental endurance.

  She dodged a blob of acid while firing to keep the insect at bay. With a swift motion, she reloaded her rifle.

  “Nene!”

  “Nene!”

  Someone… is calling me?

  That was the first thought that crossed her mind.

  Or maybe it wasn’t even a thought—just a fading spark amid the echo of gunfire and the distant roar of the beast. The sound in her ears was a blur—a mix between a constant ringing and murmurs dissolving like smoke.

  Was it a human voice? Or Lorelley’s roar, distorted by fear?

  She didn’t know. And deep down, it didn’t matter.

  She couldn’t move. Not because her body was broken—though her arm hung limp, twisted like a dead branch. But for a simpler, filthier reason.

  She was afraid.

  A fear so deep it froze her soul.

  Afraid to die.

  …No. That wasn’t it.

  Even if she wanted to believe it, she knew it wasn’t the truth.

  It wasn’t survival instinct that paralyzed her.

  It was something far more pathetic.

  So pathetic she’d rather die than admit it.

  She was afraid of not being enough.

  The thought hurt more than her fracture.

  What if she moved—and failed? What if, once again, she was just a burden, a mistake, a dead weight? All that talk about “becoming strong” was just that—empty words.

  Nene knew the truth. She had never been strong. She never would be... She was pathetic.

  A weak insect, trampled since birth.

  Her mind dragged her—without permission—into the past.

  The orphanage. Damp walls. Whispered insults. Laughter sharp as needles.

  A small, skinny body, eyes always cast down.

  A creature living off the scraps of other people’s charity.

  Children pushing her, mocking her clumsiness, calling her “trash.”

  And she… she only lowered her head and smiled, hoping someone—anyone—would look at her kindly.

  And someone did. That girl. The only one who ever offered her a hand. But she left too.

  Everyone does.

  Then came Bender. Kind. Understanding. And once again, she believed—maybe, just maybe—she wasn’t worthless. But she knew the truth. Even he would get tired of her. Eventually.

  Because everyone gets tired.

  And now there was Linx. A beautiful light that brightened the darkness in her mind. Her friend. But even Linx would one day see her for what she truly was: a disappointment.

  Her chest tightened. The air burned as it entered her lungs.

  “Why is it always like this?” she asked herself.

  The voice inside her head trembled.

  “What was I even looking for when I joined the Hunters?”

  Strength?

  Yes.

  That’s what she told herself.

  To be strong. To never be stepped on again.

  To never depend on anyone.

  But… was that true?

  Her soul—broken, but lucid—answered back.

  And in the hollow void that was her heart, she found the answer.

  She didn’t want strength to dominate. She wanted strength to help. To be loved. To make sure no one else ever felt that same emptiness, that same crushing loneliness that had shaped her.

  So that someone—anyone—could smile because of her.

  But… how?

  If she couldn’t move? If she couldn’t even breathe without trembling? She was useless. A disgrace.

  Her mind cracked further, like gss under pressure.

  The echo of her thoughts became a silent scream:

  “I’m useless. Completely useless.”

  And then, a real voice—sharp, tangible—cut through the air.

  “Damn it, Nene! You’ve survived this long, and now you freeze up? Don’t be pathetic!”

  Her words pierced the air—and her chest. Makina’s trembling voice wasn’t just anger… it was pleading. There was fear. And faith.

  “Take one step—just one,” she panted, bullets whistling through the metallic trees. “Even if you can’t fight, if you just help the others, you’ll already be closer to becoming strong. Think of the people who love you—they’re waiting, right? Those people lying there… they have families too. I’m begging you, be strong enough to help them.”

  Nene’s heart quivered.

  She didn’t understand why.

  Why would someone like Makina—a woman strong, brave, unshakable, everything Nene wished to be—put her faith in her?

  It made no sense. She would fail. She always failed.

  “I trust you!” Makina shouted, firing another round at Lorelley. “You’ve already saved me twice! I’m just asking you to do it one more time! Help my friends! They need you—just like I do!”

  Nene blinked.

  “I swear, if you do… I’ll kill this bastard. Trust me!”

  And somehow—she moved.

  One foot, then the other. A clumsy, involuntary step.

  What was she doing?

  Why was she moving?

  “Wh-What the hell makes me think I can actually do something useful…?” she muttered, trembling.

  Her voice broke.

  And then, with a raw, instinctive impulse, she struck her broken arm.

  “Argh! Just move, damn it!”

  The pain exploded—raw, unbearable. But real. Tangible. Pain silenced the voices in her head. It silenced the shame, the fear, the self-loathing.

  Only the present remained. The smell of gunpowder.

  The taste of iron. The distant screams.

  Everything blurred together into a storm inside her mind—and at its center, a spark: determination.

  Nene let out a guttural, animalistic scream.

  The kind born not from courage, but from despair.

  And she ran. Even if it was useless. Even if she could only carry one person. Even if her body shattered in the attempt.

  She would run.

  She would run even if the ground opened beneath her feet. She would run even if her blood marked the path.

  Because even if she denied it, even if she hated it— a part of her still wanted to believe she could be more than a mistake.

  More than a disappointment.