As Aren continued walking, his steps unhurried, he opened his eyes again. There wasn't any need to keep them shut now—not when he was no longer looking at her.
"What an idiot…" Aren chuckled under his breath, smirking to himself. The satisfaction of outsmarting Raven—again—settled warmly in his chest like a trophy made of pure spite.
But the moment was short-lived.
"DIE!"
The sudden shriek behind him roared through the dungeon like thunder exploding in a closed hall. Her voice didn't just echo—it rattled. It carried the raw fury of a thousand broken egos condensed into one terrifying war cry.
Aren barely turned before she was already there.
She moved like a shadow caught in lightning—impossibly fast, silent, deadly. One blink, and she was in front of him, scythe raised high, gleaming with the bloodlust of a berserker queen ready to claim a head.
His head.
Well...
She knew it wouldn't work.
Not really.
Aren could revive. She'd seen it herself. She wasn't trying to kill him. Not seriously.
This was anger.
Pure, explosive catharsis given form in a beautifully violent arc.
The scythe fell.
A second passed.
Raven now stood behind his body, her attack having landed with the finality of a guillotine.
"…What…?" The word slipped from Aren's lips, half-formed—his last thought before his head was cleanly separated from his neck.
Time slowed.
His world flipped sideways.
His vision twisted into white static as his skull sailed through the air like a cursed relic tossed by fate itself. Blood painted the cave floor in a spray of crimson, splattering the walls in jagged lines like some abstract expressionist nightmare. His pupils faded to blank, lifeless white.
Thud.
His head hit the stone.
Thump.
His body collapsed beside it.
Raven exhaled slowly, standing tall with the elegance of a seasoned executioner. Her scythe spun in her hand, a graceful twirl meant to flick the blood off its blade. It hissed faintly in the air before she rested it against her shoulder.
"Scum," she muttered with venom, her tone low, bitter.
The insult didn't even fit. Not really. She knew that.
But right now?
She didn't care.
Her mind was a hurricane of humiliation and unresolved fury. Logic had left the building. Pride was driving the wheel—and pride was drunk.
As expected… it wasn't over.
Behind her, Aren's corpse twitched.
Flesh mended. Bone restructured. Muscle stitched itself together like rewinding time on a meat puppet. His decapitated form rose upright with eerie calm as if simply standing up from a nap.
With a subtle twist of his neck, he realigned his head like adjusting a helmet.
"What a pain…" he muttered, rubbing the base of his skull with mild annoyance—like she'd just given him a migraine instead of decapitating him.
He turned his head slowly toward her, lips tugged into a tired smirk.
"You feeling better now?" he asked casually, as though this entire bloody sequence had been nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
Raven stood still.
Silent.
The seconds ticked by.
Five… four… three… two…
"No…" she finally said, voice faint—almost childlike.
Aren blinked.
Wait. That wasn't anger. That wasn't venom. That was…
Soft?
His brow arched in confusion, gears turning.
Is she… planning to charm me again?
But before he could confirm his theory, she screamed.
"I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS—!!" she shouted, her voice crashing against the walls of the dungeon like a sonic boom.
Aren flinched slightly.
Her expression twisted—frustration, confusion, despair all battling on her face. She looked like a glitching character model struggling to render a coherent emotion.
"A random E-Rank Hunter just humiliated me and I can't even do anything about it!" she cried out, her voice trembling.
And then… laughter. Wild. Manic.
"What a mess!" she wailed, tugging at her raven-black hair with both hands, looking like she was moments away from biting through her own frustration.
Aren tilted his head slightly, narrowing his eyes.
"…Did she go insane?" he muttered under his breath.
He sighed, then approached slowly—cautiously—as if getting too close might trigger another scythe swing. Reaching out from behind, he gently placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Look… if it makes you feel any better, I won't tell anyone what happened," he said, his tone easy, soothing. "I earned way more than I lost anyway." He gave a lazy grin, eyes gleaming with loot-happy satisfaction.
Raven didn't respond.
Instead, she turned abruptly—and buried her face in his chest. Her voice came out muffled against his shirt.
"Thank god…" she whispered.
Aren blinked, mildly surprised.
Instinctively, his hand came up and patted her on the head, fingers brushing through her hair with the same casual rhythm he'd use if she were still in her cat form.
"You're the most confusing person I've met in this world…" he said, chuckling softly, a small laugh that echoed with amused disbelief.
[Exit Dungeon Before: 2:15 Minutes]
The system chimed again in both of their ears, overly cheerful despite the chaos.
They both blinked.
"…Oh," they said at the same time—one muffled, one flat.
"Hey…" Aren said after a beat, still patting her head.
"What…?" Raven murmured, her voice still lost somewhere in his shirt.
"Can you… carry me out of the cave?" he asked.
…She had decapitated him, and now he wanted a piggyback ride?