Chapter 55

The two days that followed on the 20th floor were quieter on the surface, but heavier beneath. They did not rush back into fighting after that encounter. Aerin’s injury had not been something that could be ignored with a simple wrap and a few herbs; it had forced them to slow down, to stay in one place longer than they usually allowed themselves. Their camp was set near a rocky incline where the wind barely reached, and for once, the fire burned longer than their movements.
Mira barely left Aerin’s side during that time. What had started as routine treatment slowly turned into something more focused, more intense. She wasn’t just applying what she had learned anymore—she was testing, adjusting, thinking ahead before the wound even reacted. Her hands moved faster, more precise, her mind working through combinations of herbs and methods she had only read about before. Kael watched it all without interrupting, only stepping in when needed, letting Mira figure things out on her own.
It happened late on the second day.
Aerin was half-asleep, leaning against a rock while Mira was reapplying a mixture she had altered for the third time. She paused suddenly, her fingers hovering over the wound as if something had shifted—not outside, but within her understanding. For a brief second, she frowned, confused… and then her climber license, resting beside her bag, gave off a faint glow.
She blinked.
Then grabbed it.
“What…?” her voice came out softer than expected, almost disbelieving.
Aerin straightened despite the pain. “What happened?”
Mira didn’t answer immediately. Her eyes were scanning the license, her expression shifting from confusion to realization, and then to something quieter. “I… I got a skill.”
Aerin’s reaction was immediate, a wide grin breaking through even as he winced. “You did? That’s—Mira, that’s amazing!”
But Mira didn’t look as excited as he expected.
She kept staring at the license, reading carefully. The skill had formed around what she had been doing for the past two days, not from combat, not from speed—but from persistence.
Skill: Verdant Pulse
A support-based healing ability that allowed her to accelerate natural recovery by channeling her stamina into another person’s body. It didn’t heal instantly, and it didn’t erase injuries completely, but it strengthened the body’s own response—closing wounds faster, stabilizing damage, and reducing long-term impact. The stronger the injury, the more stamina it consumed.
It was not flashy.
Not powerful in the way Aerin’s was.
But it was steady.
Reliable.
Mira lowered the license slowly, her expression still unreadable. “I thought… it would feel different.”
Aerin tilted his head slightly. “Different how?”
“I don’t know,” she muttered, looking back at his arm. “Stronger, maybe. Faster. Something that could fix everything instantly.”
Kael, who had been leaning against a tree nearby, finally spoke. “If it did that, you would stop thinking.”
Mira looked at her.
Kael’s gaze shifted briefly toward Aerin’s arm. “This one forces you to understand what you’re doing. That’s better.”
There was no softness in her tone, but there was no dismissal either. Just a quiet acknowledgment.
Aerin laughed lightly, trying to ease the weight that had settled in the air. “Hey, I’m not complaining. If anything, I’m lucky. Look at this—two days and I’m already sitting up like nothing happened.”
“That’s because I’ve been working nonstop,” Mira snapped, though the edge in her voice had dulled.
“And you did it well,” Kael added simply.
That was enough.
Mira didn’t respond, but her shoulders relaxed just slightly, and she turned back to Aerin’s arm with renewed focus—this time not doubting what she had gained, but trying to understand how far she could push it.
By the third day, they were moving again.
Aerin’s arm had not fully healed. The wound was still visible, the movement still restricted, but it was no longer something that would stop him from fighting. And despite that, there was something different about him now. It wasn’t just his strength—it was the way he carried himself, the way he stepped forward without hesitation even with an injury that should have slowed him down more.
Mira noticed it.
Kael noticed it.
Neither said it out loud.
When they finally decided to return to the real world, it wasn’t out of exhaustion—it was intentional. They had stayed long enough, grown enough, and now it was time to show just enough of it to avoid suspicion.
The descent and exit were smoother than before. Familiar now.
But the moment they stepped out, the difference was immediate.
Eyes.
More than before.
Whispers that didn’t even bother hiding themselves anymore.
Aerin walked through it without reacting, Mira with a slight frown, and Kael as if none of it existed. They went straight to the guild, just as planned.
This time, they didn’t pretend nothing had changed.
“We fought multiple high-level creatures,” Aerin said, his tone steady but natural. “Stronger than anything we’ve seen before. That’s when it happened.”
Mira continued, following exactly what Kael had instructed earlier. “We didn’t expect it either. It just… happened during the fights and recovery.”
The managers listened carefully. There was skepticism, of course—but also curiosity. Breakthroughs like this weren’t impossible. Rare, but not unheard of.
They were tested again.
Not fully.
Just enough.
And this time, they didn’t hold everything back.
The results spoke for themselves.
Both Aerin and Mira had crossed level 50. Their stats reflected it clearly now, and their skills were registered officially. The shift in the room was subtle but noticeable—what had once been dismissed as a slow, unimpressive team was now something people weren’t quite sure how to categorize.
While they were occupied with the formalities, the clerk turned his attention to Kael.
“And you?” he asked, scanning her.
Kael answered without hesitation. “Level 23.”
The clerk blinked, clearly caught off guard. “That… doesn’t make sense. Your team is above 50. You’ve been climbing with them this whole time, haven’t you?”
“I have.”
“Then why are you still below 25?”
Kael didn’t answer immediately. Not because she didn’t want to—but because she didn’t have one.
She had noticed it too.
Her growth was… different.
Slower in number.
But not in result.
She simply shrugged. “Maybe I’m not as talented.”
The clerk didn’t look convinced, but there was nothing he could prove otherwise. The system didn’t lie—at least, not in ways they understood.
With the updates complete, their rank shifted from D to C.
Another step.
Another ripple in the outside world.
They separated soon after, as usual.
Aerin returned home, where concern quickly replaced relief the moment his injury was noticed. His parents argued again, more urgently this time, pointing out the risks, the dangers, the fact that he was now strong enough to leave and join safer, more established teams. But Aerin didn’t back down. Not this time. He listened, he explained, and when that didn’t work, he stood firm.
Mira’s return to the orphanage was quieter. She didn’t speak much, barely ate before falling asleep. The exhaustion had caught up to her all at once, and for the first time in a while, she allowed herself to rest without thinking about the next step.
Kael didn’t go home.
Not immediately.
She walked through the market instead, her pace steady, until she reached her closed shop. Dain and Lera were there, just as expected.
They noticed the difference instantly.
Not just in her appearance—but in the way she stood.
Healthier.
Sharper.
Still the same Kael, but not entirely.
Lera handed her a few herbs without a word, while Dain placed a set of improved materials on the counter as if it was nothing. Their usual teasing followed soon after, light and familiar, but it didn’t last long before the question surfaced again.
“Any news about him?”
Kael paused for a fraction of a second before answering.
“No.”
Simple.
Honest.
And yet, not the full truth of what she felt.
She stayed a little longer this time, helping clean the shop, organizing what needed to be done. And when she finally left for her small, quiet home, the night felt heavier than usual—but not in the same way as before.
Because now, they were closer.
Not just to strength.
But to something else waiting ahead.