Chapter 63: Going Back there

Chapter 63: Chapter 63: Going Back there

Victor curled on the ground, teeth gritted, biting down hard enough on his own forearm to leave marks, fighting every instinct that wanted to scream.

He stayed like that for the better part of an hour.

The pain made sense once he actually thought it through.

Berserker only gave him forty-five seconds, and every single time Cleaver had rewound the fight, it reset that clock too, over and over, stacking activation on activation. The clock resetting didn’t mean the strain on his body reset with it.

If anything, it compounded. His muscles and nerves pushed past their limit again and again without ever actually getting the recovery window they were owed.

Add the actual beating he’d taken from both D-Rankers before Berserker even kicked in, and his body was currently paying the bill for roughly three fights crammed into one.

And through all of it, he’d kept his face perfectly steady in front of Mira. He didn’t want her carrying any more weight tonight. The poor girl already had a lot on her plate.

When the worst of the biting pain finally eased into something merely unbearable instead of blinding, he dragged himself upright, even though he was drenched in sweat, and body still trembling.

Babarians naturally had tolerance that would shame humans. That tolerance was showing its effects now.

Still Victor couldn’t quite believe what he’d just done. All of this was still so new, but still, he’d walked into that warehouse purely on impulse and the emotion of his Barbarian side, refusing to let the threat against his family sit over his head.

"Guess I’m more of a Barbarian than I thought," he muttered, half-laughing at himself through the exhaustion.

But the thought that followed sobered him fast.

If Mira hadn’t come along, and he’d walked in there alone, against two D-Rankers and a C-Ranker that had a time-rewind ability, he’d be dead. There was no two ways around it.

And worse, he was starting to understand something he hadn’t fully let himself admit yet. Every fight so far, the goblins in the yellow gate, the gang, all of it, had sharpened his instincts and his experience, but his actual power, which was the raw ceiling of what his body could do, hadn’t grown an inch.

Victor knew that the only place that had ever changed him was the world Gavalon of Dungeon Conquest.

Which meant, eventually, he’d have to go back.

His jaw tightened at the thought. Did he actually have to?

But he didn’t want to. Death there was nearly as guaranteed as the strength he would be pursuing.

Also, he barely escaped the first time. And if he went back, a battle with Popo was waiting for him.

And Popo was a level 5 Barbarian. Was this not suicide?

But then his father’s face surfaced in his mind, and he shoved the question aside.

He should ensure things were good with the old man first before worrying about other things.

He gathered the duffel bags and made his way home.

By the time Victor reached the apartment the next day, his father was already waiting outside, immediately fussing over him the second he got close.

"What happened to you? You look—"

"I’m fine, Dad. Just a rough night." Victor forced a smile, hoping it held. "When did you get here?"

"I just did."

Smelly Joe, not far away, clocked it instantly, but said nothing about it directly. Instead he ambled over, grinning. "You hear the news?"

"What news?"

"Cleavage gang had themselves a nasty internal falling out last night. They said they were broken bones all over the place. The cops showed up, found a whole mess of illegal stuff in there. I heard they also found people who’d been held and tortured. Their whole operation’s probably getting shut down for good."

"...Huh. That’s good news." Victor’s father beamed.

"Oh, that’s not even the best part." Joe’s grin widened. "Half the street woke up to stacks of cash just sitting outside their doors. Can you believe that? And wouldn’t you know it, every single one of those folks happened to owe money to the Cleavage gang."

Victor let out a short laugh. Joe laughed along with him. "Whoever did them in, is our savior."

His father didn’t laugh.

He studied Victor a moment... too long, something quiet working behind his eyes. He knew his son well enough.

Neither of them said anything about it as they climbed the stairs back up to the apartment.

Their home was still trashed, and scattered with broken furniture from the house invasion. Victor cleared a space on the ruined couch and sank into it, every muscle in his body still aching.

His father sat across from him.

"I know you’ve got your reasons for whatever you did." His voice was quiet and steady. "I’m not going to stop you. Just... be careful."

Victor nodded.

"You’re all I have left in this world." His father’s eyes drifted toward the photo on the wall, the one of him and Victor’s mother, taken when Victor was still small. "...All I have left of her."

Victor followed his gaze to the same photo. "I know. You’re all I have of her too."

Something settled in him then, a decision he’d been circling all night finally locking into place.

He needed more strength. Real strength, and not just the scraps of power he’d been patching together fight by fight.

What happened the next time someone came, someone stronger than Cleaver, someone with real backing, real reach? What happened if his father was caught in the middle of it, and Victor’s E-Rank strength simply wasn’t enough?

Of course, beneath all of that sat the heaviest weight of all.

The artificial sun falling.

No matter how much time passed and he pretended there was a year left to figure it out, he knew deep down that stopping that would take more power than anything he currently had.

He stood, walked into his room, and came back out a moment later.

"Dad. I’m gonna be gone for a while."

His father blinked. "...Okay."

"There’s enough in the account. Get someone in to clean the place up while I’m gone."

His father nodded slowly, saying nothing else.

He simply watched his son leave the house with the Dungeon Conquest console under his armpit.