"Overflow"

Senen's voice held a weight that had nothing to do with volume. "Years ago, I trained a boy," he murmured, his tone carrying the ghosts of regret. "I never asked his name." His gaze, distant yet piercing, locked onto Kin. "What is yours?" 

Kin blinked, the question catching him off guard. "Uh… Kin. My name is Kin." He frowned, shifting his glance between Senen and Sye. "But what does that have to do with—?" 

Sye, arms crossed, let out an exaggerated pout, rolling her eyes with theatrical flair. She hummed a knowing "mmm," her smirk teasingly sharp. The realization cracked like a slow-splitting fault line in Kin's mind. 

A flashback swallowed the present. A younger Senen stood beneath the golden hue of a setting sun, his once-flowing hair catching the wind like silk ribbons. Time shattered back to the present. Kin's eyes went wide—his pupils shrinking to pinpricks of comedic horror. His mouth twitched. His head tilted ever so slightly. 

"…Where's your hair?" 

The words left him before he could stop them. 

Silence. A beat. 

Then, Kin dropped into a deep bow, forehead nearly brushing the floor. "Senen—thank you! If not for that sword technique, I might not be standing here today! So, from the bottom of my heart... thank you!" 

For the first time, a rare smile curved Senen's lips—subtle, almost imperceptible, but real. "I only showed you the door. Walking through it… was up to you." A pause. Then, without missing a beat—"Speaking of… follow me." 

Senen led Kin and Sye down a quiet corridor, each step met with the quiet groan of aged wood. The moment he slid open the heavy doors, a subtle but undeniable shift in the air took place. The training room was bathed in deep, earthy hues—light brown walls accented with darker streaks, like aged bark on an ancient tree. The polished floor was mostly covered by a massive dojo mat, smooth yet firm beneath the feet, except for the edges left bare—designated spots for observers to stand, their presence marked by the faint indentations of past spectators. 

And at the heart of it all stood the training doll. Unlike the battered, wooden ones outside, this effigy was something else entirely. It had no cracks, no signs of wear. The material looked impossibly dense; its surface smooth yet carrying a strange, almost imperceptible sheen. 

Senen stepped aside, his hand gesturing toward it. "This is my personal training room." His voice was calm. He turned his gaze to Kin. "I would like to see that sword technique of yours." 

Kin, unfazed, walked toward the weapons rack against the wall. A neat row of wooden swords lay in perfect alignment. He reached out and grabbed one. His fingers barely curling around the hilt before— "No, Kin." 

Senen's voice carried no urgency, yet it left no room for argument. "Use your sword." 

Kin blinked, then shrugged as if the request was of no consequence. "Oh. Alright." Casually, he slid the wooden sword back in its place and unsheathed the blade given to him by Flex, its edge catching the light in a silver gleam. 

Senen's gaze lingered on Kin; his thoughts heavy with curiosity. It's been almost thirteen years… He folded his arms, observing closely. That boy perceived my technique after seeing it just once. How far has he come? 

Kin moved with deliberate slowness, easing into position. A deep inhale filled his lungs, steady and measured—then an even deeper exhale. The air thickened. 

A distant sound—soft, almost imperceptible. Ocean waves, rolling in a rhythmic crescendo. 

Then— Ba-dum. 

A heartbeat. 

A faint ripple spread from Kin's upper body, a distortion in the very air around him. Ethereal, aura-like, its edges blurred into the space beyond him. 

Ba-dum. 

The ripple widened, pulsing outward with silent force, touching the room itself. 

Ba-dum. 

Stillness. The breath of the temple seemed to pause. The ripple had expanded in all directions—yet it no longer seemed to come from Kin. It was as if the source had become everything, an omnipresent tremor hanging in suspension. 

Then—Ba-dum. 

The final beat, a reverberation so profound that time itself seemed to stagger. 

Without warning—Kin struck. 

Senen's technique, honed to absolute precision, was unleashed in an instant. His blade carved through the air in a blur, streaked with afterimages of violet lightning. Each strike left echoes of itself, spectral remnants of force and mastery. 

tick... 

A single tick of a nearby clock sliced through the void. 

Then—movement. 

The training doll, untouched at first glance, collapsed. Four immaculate slices, each one so clean they fell as if made of rubber. 

Senen's breath snagged. His expression—completely unguarded—was frozen in sheer disbelief. Sye's eyes stretched wide, her lips slightly parted, stunned beyond words. And Senen—jaw slack, his usually measured composure shattered—could only stare. 

Kin exhaled softly, tension leaving his frame as he slid his sword back into its sheath. 

The stillness shattered. 

"How?!" Senen's voice rang out, uncharacteristically loud. "I didn't even see your movement!" 

His eyes remained locked on Kin, his expression still caught between awe and incomprehension. He took a step forward, almost instinctively. "Let me see your stats, Kin." 

Kin complied, opening his stat page. Senen's eyes flicked over the numbers. "Level 35…" His voice dropped to a mutter as he skimmed the rest, his brows drawing together. 

"These numbers are impressive, sure, but…" He paused, his mind racing. "Nothing here would explain that speed." 

A hum rumbled in the back of his throat as a thought took form. "By any chance, Kin—do you have a Skill?" 

Kin blinked. "Yeah, I do." 

Senen's sharp eyes locked onto him. "Show me." 

Kin pulled up his skill page—and stopped. His brows furrowed, confusion slipping into his voice. "Wait… what?" 

But before he could process it, Senen's reaction eclipsed his own. 

"You have two Skills?!" 

Kin stiffened. Since when…? His mind rewound—The fight with the Tiger Bear. I must have gained it then. 

Senen took a steadying breath, forcing himself to calm. He exhaled through his nose. "Kin, only two Raiders in our nation's history have ever possessed more than one Skill." 

"Really?" Kin tilted his head, genuinely curious. 

Sye, still absorbing the moment, crossed her arms and gave two slow, exaggerated nods, her expression almost comedic amid the tension. 

Senen read aloud; his voice tinged with intrigue. "Overflow… allows you to pass limitations." His eyes narrowed slightly. "What a vague description…" 

His mind raced, pieces clicking into place. "That must be the reason I couldn't see your attack." He exhaled sharply. "It was as if—for a moment—you stepped outside of time itself." 

Kin stood in quiet contemplation, his eyes turning to Senen with newfound resolve. 

Senen, watching him, thought to himself. 

This boy didn't just master my technique… 

He refined it to perfection. 

The dojo remained still, the scent of aged wood and lingering static from Kin's technique hanging in the air. The four perfectly sliced pieces of the training doll lay undisturbed on the mat. Yet, despite the aftermath of such an overwhelming display, Kin showed no signs of exhilaration or fatigue. Kin's face illuminated by quiet determination. Unknowing of what he had achieved. His eyes, once locked in quiet intensity, were now closed. 

Then, the tension softened, dissipating like mist. 

Now seated, Kin's eyes were closed, his posture relaxed yet composed. The spacious dojo was gone, replaced by a much smaller, more intimate room. The air carried the delicate fragrance of steeped tea leaves, replacing the lingering charge of battle. 

The room was simple—designed for quiet conversation rather than spectacle. Dark wooden panels framed the space, their grain rich with age. Scrolls of elegant calligraphy adorned the walls, Senen sits across from Kin and Sye. A single lantern hung above, its glow glistening against the polished surface of the low wooden table between them. 

Kin rested a porcelain cup between his fingers, the steam curling upwards, its warmth, fulfilling the space around them. Sye sat beside him, mirroring his movements. Across from them, Senen sat in still contemplation. For a while, none of them spoke. The only sound was the faint clink of ceramic as Senen finally set his cup down. 

"Now," he said, voice steady, eyes focused. "Why have you come?" 

The tension had not faded—it had only changed. One battle had ended. Another was about to begin.