Monkaar placed a glowing palm over Jiro’s chest, casting a gentle pulse of tremor that can be seen with one’s eyes.
"Still nothing," Monkaar murmured.
Balkan scratched his head. "We need to wake him up. Maybe he’s under so kind of spell."
Clint looked at him. "What do you suggest?"
"Two things," Balkan said. "First, we punch him. Not hard. Just enough to jolt him."
Clint looked horrified. "He’s barely conscious!"
Balkan shrugged. "Option two—we shock him. Tremor pulse to the spine. Fastest way to disrupt an unconscious state."
Monkaar hesitated. "That... could cause nerve damage."
But Balkan had already placed a hand over Jiro’s shoulder.
"Wait, let try the shock first," he said.
A crackle of small Earth energy shot into Jiro’s body.
Nothing.
"Still no reaction?" Clint asked.
Balkan shook his head. "Alright. Ti for option one."
He reared back and gave Jiro a quick—but solid—slap across the cheek.
"OW—HEY!" Clint recoiled. "That was not ’just enough’!"
Monkaar grabbed Balkan’s arm. "That’s enough, brute! You’ll knock him back into unconsciousness!"
"I’m trying, dammit!"
Elius finally spoke, arms crossed, voice calm.
"Just take him outside."
The three looked up at him.
"Outside?" Balkan repeated. "But he’s not even conscious!"
Elius rolled his eyes. "He’s breathing. He’s alive. That’s all that matters."
He turned toward the exit of the dinsional rift, the outer world’s light casting his shadow long behind him.
"Let’s go," he said.
And with that, he stepped outside.
Elius didn’t care if only his limbs remained... or if he had to crawl through hell with nothing but his jaw intact.
As long as he was alive, as long as breath passed his lungs, as long as his soul hadn’t scattered to the void—he would win.
That was the mindset he walked with as he stepped through the crumbling veil of the dinsional rift and into the underground Unexplored Dinsional Rifts once more.
The outside.
The air was colder here.
Thinner.
Charged with ambient dinsional energy that buzzed against his skin like thousands of invisible threads brushing across his body.
He had returned.
And ahead of him... they were waiting.
Rows upon rows of brightly colored figures—Superheroes in gaudy costus, so glowing, so levitating, others cloaked in shadow—gathered at the base camp stationed near the Rift’s edge.
They stood around talking, stretching, or polishing their weapons, but the mont Elius’s white cultivation robe erged from the shroud of the dinsional rift’s light, their heads turned.
Eyes widened.
Voices lowered.
"It’s him..."
"He ca out alone?"
"Where are the sidekicks? Did they die?"
"Wait, does that an we won the bet?"
The buzz of whispers grew louder, passing from one figure to the next like a contagious rumor.
They all rembered the wager made before the descent—Elius had been tasked with keeping four "sidekicks" alive through a full unexplored dinsional rift.
They’d laughed at the condition.
Unexplored dinsional rifts were death traps, filled with mutated creatures, spiritual anomalies, and unpredictable terrain.
The odds of even two sidekicks returning were abysmal.
Four?
They’d considered it impossible.
And now... Elius was alone.
The Heroes murmured excitedly, already pulling out identification badges and tokens of currency to validate their bets.
One red-suited Hero with a visor chuckled, "I told you, didn’t I? That dinsional rift would chew those kids alive. This new hero is arrogant, but he’s not that good. He’s back early too—that ans a wipeout."
Another nodded. "I bet my slot for priority dinsional rift access. Worth it."
But just then—Elius smiled.
He turned slightly, lifting his left hand behind him in a slow, deliberate gesture.
A signal.
The murmurs faltered.
The crowd watched in confusion.
And then, from the shimring haze of the dinsional rift’s light, figures began to erge.
First, Clint, battered but walking steady.
And atop the back of Balkan—Jiro, unconscious but breathing, his chest rising and falling in slow rhythm.
Gasps rippled through the onlookers like waves crashing against a cliff.
"What?"
"No way."
"They’re alive?"
"All four of them?"
"That’s an unexplored dinsional rift! Not a walk through a simulated training room!"
Even those who’d made the bet stepped forward in disbelief, their confident grins fading as the truth stood before them.
Elius didn’t just survive—he kept every single sidekick alive.
One unconscious, yes, but alive.
That broke the statistics.
Shattered the expectations.
It was a feat unheard of even for experienced S-class veterans.
"B-but how?!" soone whispered.
"That’s insane. How’d they even get through it? That place wasn’t mapped, wasn’t even classified yet—"
As the crowd reeled, Elius took a slow step forward. His white cultivation robe rippled in the ambient breeze, and his golden hair shone faintly under the rift’s residual light.
His eyes, calm and unreadable, scanned the shocked Superheroes like a teacher observing a room full of disobedient children.
And then he spoke, his voice carrying across the gathering with crystal clarity.
"We completed the dinsional rift."
The effect was like thunder dropping into a silent room.
The crowd exploded.
"WHAT?!"
"He completed it?!"
"Not survived—completed?!"
The disbelief beca uproar.
Several of the older sester F ranked Heroes started talking at once, a dozen shouting questions, others arguing, so reaching for their communications badges to confirm what they were hearing.
A few dropped their bets in sheer frustration.
"Unexplored dinsional rifts aren’t supposed to be completed on a first run!"
"Who the hell is this kid?!"
"It takes months just to map the first layer, and he completed it in a few hours?!"
The ambient noise around the rift spiked to its peak as awe, disbelief, and fury mingled into a chaotic symphony.
But then, Elius raised a single hand.
The murmurs faltered again.
"I should clarify sothing," he said. "It was a low Tier F-ranked dinsional rift."
Another silence.
Then—a few awkward coughs.
"Llw Tier F-rank?" soone repeated slowly.
"...He said Low Tier F-rank," another muttered.
A different Hero frowned. "Well... that makes sense, I guess."
"Yeah," another nodded. "Low Tier F-rank unexplored is still dangerous, but nothing compared to a high Tier."
"But still," said a woman with a black mask. "Unexplored is unexplored. Doesn’t matter the rank—it ans there’s no known exit, no map, no cleared data. You go in blind."
"But if it’s F-rank..." a voice near the back chid in, "there are two types, rember?"
That caught so ears.
"Yeah, yeah! There’s High-tier F and Low-tier F."
"Exactly. High-tier F has potential for scaling enemies, mutations, and rare zone events. Could go from F to E in minutes if sothing mutates."
"But Low-tier?" another scoffed. "Low-tier is bottom of the barrel. Sli-tier, literally. Only monsters from F1 to F6 range. Those things die if you sneeze hard enough."
"Oh. That explains it then."
"Yeah. No wonder he completed it."
Suddenly, the fire of disbelief cooled into mild curiosity and shrugging.
Elius nodded to himself. Good.
This was precisely what he wanted.
The less attention the dinsional rift drew, the better. He had registered it under his ID—not because he wanted to share it, but because it gave him administrative access. And now... inside that seemingly worthless "Low-tier" dinsional rift, he had sothing better than treasure or monster cores.
He had a rechargeable battery.
Soilandor, the immortal mummy, trapped in endless pain, forced to serve as a spirit energy reservoir through the Earth Empowering Gu.
Every second he suffered,
Elius reaped energy.
An endless supply.
He could not allow others to discover it.
Better they think it’s low-value.
Better they scoff.
Suddenly, a voice called out from the crowd, sharp and curious:
"Wait. Why is one of you unconscious?"
The gathered Heroes turned again, now noticing the limp form of Jiro on the vine-stretcher. His breathing was visible, but he hadn’t stirred since he ca out.
"Wasn’t this supposed to be a success mission?"
"Did he get injured near the end?"
"Why’s he still out cold?"
Clint looked nervously at Elius.
Monkaar glanced down at Jiro, his brow furrowing.
Balkan’s jaw tensed slightly.
But Elius stepped forward, calm as ever.
He smiled faintly.
And he said nothing.
Not yet.
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