Sei dreamed of hands.

  Not faces. Not voices.

  Just hands—slick with blood, slipping no matter how tightly he pressed, no matter how carefully he adjusted his grip. Every time he thought he had control, the skin beneath his palms gave way, softening, yielding, failing.

  He woke before the moment of loss.

  His breath came fast, shallow. The ceiling above him was unfamiliar stone, cracked but solid. Morning light filtered through a narrow window, pale and indifferent.

  For a long moment, he stayed still.

  His hands lay on his chest.

  Steady.

  That unsettled him more than the dream.

  The mission was supposed to be simple.

  That was how the guild clerk said it—casual, almost bored—as he slid the parchment across the counter. Another outer-district assignment. Another report of something that didn’t belong where it had been seen.

  Eva read it once, then folded it without comment.

  “Same route,” she said. “Same expectations.”

  Sei nodded.

  He told himself that meant he was ready.

  They weren’t the only ones sent this time.

  Two other adventurers waited near the eastern road—both older, both wearing the kind of scars that came from surviving long enough to be careless about it. One of them glanced at Sei, then at Eva, then said nothing.

  The path led through low brush and broken fencing, the land still bearing the scars of the siege. Tracks cut deep into the soil—drag marks, hurried, uneven.

  “Not animals,” one of the adventurers muttered. “Too deliberate.”

  They followed the trail to a shallow ravine.

  That’s where they found the body.

  Not dead.

  Not yet.

  A man lay on his side at the base of the slope, one leg twisted at an angle that made Sei’s stomach drop. Blood soaked through his trousers, dark and spreading, already thickening in the dirt beneath him.

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  Sei moved before anyone else spoke.

  He slid down the incline, knees hitting hard, hands already working—pressure, assessment, breath. The man gasped when Sei touched him, fingers clutching weakly at his sleeve.

  “Stay with me,” Sei said. “Look at me.”

  The wound was bad. Too bad.

  You can still fix this, he told himself. He’d seen worse. He’d worked through worse.

  But the blood didn’t slow.

  His hands slipped.

  “No—no, no—” Sei adjusted his grip, pressed harder, ignoring the way his arms began to shake. “I need something to bind—”

  “There’s movement,” one of the adventurers shouted from above.

  The brush rustled.

  Sei didn’t look up.

  He couldn’t.

  “Eva,” he said, voice tight. “I need time.”

  He didn’t know if time was something they had.

  The thing burst from the brush in a blur of limbs and teeth—smaller than the last one, but faster. Too fast.

  The adventurers moved to intercept, steel ringing as one was knocked aside. The creature twisted, skidding across the dirt, eyes locking on Sei.

  On the blood.

  On the man beneath his hands.

  Sei froze.

  Think.

  The creature lunged.

  Eva stepped between them, shield raised, impact shuddering through her arm. She struck back—but not enough. The creature rebounded, skittering around her, claws tearing into her side as it passed.

  She grunted but stayed standing.

  “Now,” she snapped. “Do something.”

  Sei’s vision tunneled.

  The man beneath him gasped—a wet, rattling sound. His pulse fluttered, then stuttered.

  Sei’s chest tightened.

  I can’t.

  His hands trembled.

  I don’t know how.

  The creature turned back toward them, mouth splitting wide.

  Something inside Sei snapped—not loudly, not cleanly.

  Just… enough.

  Green light slid into being along his fingers.

  It didn’t burn.

  It didn’t flare.

  It answered.

  The shape formed without resistance—thin, precise, impossibly sharp. Like a tool that had always been waiting for his hand to stop lying to itself.

  Sei moved.

  The world narrowed to angles and intent.

  The blade passed through flesh without sound.

  No spray. No struggle.

  The creature collapsed in two clean halves, hitting the dirt as if gravity had simply decided it no longer needed to exist.

  Silence crashed down around them.

  Sei stared at what he’d done.

  His hand still hummed faintly.

  The green glow lingered for half a breath longer than it should have—then vanished.

  The man beneath him convulsed.

  Sei swore and dropped the thought before it could form.

  He pressed his hands back to the wound.

  “I’m here,” he said, voice breaking. “I’m here.”

  The blood slowed.

  Not stopped—slowed.

  Warmth spread beneath his palms, deeper than skin, like pressure pushing back against inevitability. Sei gasped as something resisted him—not pain, not force, but exhaustion that wasn’t his own.

  The man’s breathing evened, just slightly.

  Enough.

  Sei’s arms gave out.

  He barely caught himself before collapsing forward, hands numb, vision swimming. The warmth faded the moment his focus slipped, leaving behind a wound that was no longer fatal—but not healed.

  Not whole.

  Eva knelt beside him, her face unreadable.

  She looked at the body of the creature.

  Then at the man, still breathing.

  Then at Sei.

  “That,” she said quietly, “was different.”

  Sei laughed once—a sharp, broken sound—and pressed his forehead to the dirt.

  “I didn’t know how to stop,” he whispered. “Either way.”

  Eva didn’t answer.

  She helped him to his feet.

  They didn’t talk on the way back.

  At the guild, the report was brief. The payout heavier. The looks more numerous.

  Someone had seen something.

  Someone always did.

  That night, Sei stood alone, staring at his hands under the dim light of his room.

  No glow.

  No blade.

  Just skin.

  But when he closed his eyes, he could still feel it.

  How easy it had been to end.

  How hard it had been to save.

  And somewhere deep inside, something waited—patient, precise, and far too willing to answer again.