Kairo was never the kind to be impulsive.
He was never the kind to charge without thinking, never the kind to abandon formation, never the kind to attack his own teammate.
He was precision.
He was discipline.
Until this damned dungeon.
Now, Kairo was doing everything he swore he never would—charging head-on at a monster that dwarfed him tenfold, blood aura boiling like wildfire across his arms.
He could hear the chaos behind him—Zaira screaming his name, Mio shouting orders that dissolved into panic, and somewhere, Mel's broken voice echoing through the cavern.
If that was even Mel at all.
But Kairo didn't stop. He couldn't.
Eli's terrified eyes were on him, wide and glowing faintly yellow against the dark. And still—Kairo didn't waver.
He could see it in those eyes: fear. Fear of him, fear of the monster, fear of what he might do next. And maybe that should've made him hesitate.
But instead, it just hardened something in him.
