She didn’t want to say the name. Names drew lines. Names invited comparisons. Comparisons invited mistakes.

"The Fist King?" The creature said it anyway, and she felt her jaw tighten in reflex.

"Yeah, I’ve only seen him once at the second floor. Well, this floor, a couple years back..." She said.

The memory wasn’t clear in details, but it was clear in feeling: pressure like a mountain sitting on your spine, the kind of presence that made your instincts shut up and obey before your brain caught up.

"Well, you managed to survive thanks to that man," the creature said.

She didn’t correct it. Survival had many definitions in this tower. Sometimes it meant living. Sometimes it meant not dying today. And sometimes it meant a stranger killing your enemy then walking away without ever paying attention to you.

"It was simply a coincidence that he was there that time, but to be honest, if those people from the Golden Palace didn’t antagonize him, I would have been captured."

She remembered their arrogance more than anything. The way they thought guild names were armor.

way they thought threats were weapons.

The tower loved teaching people how wrong they were.

"I doubt it thought, that he’s related to him," the small creature said.

"How come?" she asked.

Her gaze flicked briefly to Kael’s profile, the calm way he flipped meat, the casual way he used the flat of the blade to keep the fire fed without scattering ash.

"Well, that man was not friendly with anyone, he also looked like someone who was very busy to be someone’s master. Not to mention, we would have heard news of him if he appeared on the second floor."

That was true. The tower didn’t keep secrets well. People did. Guilds did. But rumors? Rumors traveled faster than monsters.

"We did though, wasn’t there a rumor that the Fist King appeared a year ago in the second floor? Something to do with those guys from the Leonard guild." She said.

Saying it out loud made her stomach tighten again, not from hunger this time. From caution. Leonard. Names like that didn’t exist without bodies stacked behind them.

"Oh, you’re right, we’ve been running so long I forgot about that... But still, even if that was the case... The Fist King never had a disciple. And if he had one... you think a year is enough to create that monster?" the creature said.

"Hmm, well, it won’t help nor be worth anything to know if they’re related or not. We need to continue clearing. I’ll have to head back to the twenty fifth floor soon."

She said it like a decision, but her body didn’t agree. Even sitting in cold water, she felt how thin she was right now.

How shallow her reserves were. How the hunger in her gut didn’t feel like "I need food" but like something that would rip her open if she ignored it.

"Calm down Yenna, you haven’t healed enough, and the twenty fifth floor is packed full of those guys..."

Her name coming from the creature’s mouth hit different than "Gisele" ever had. Gisele was a mask. Yenna was a weight. A history. A target.

She blew air through her nose in an exhale that made the water bubble.

"I know, but we can’t stay here for long, we’ll be compromised. The guilds have a strong say in this place."

Even here, quiet river, empty mountain, she felt the pressure of the lower floors like a hand on the back of her neck. Guilds didn’t need to be present to be dangerous. Their influence lingered in the way people moved, the way they watched, the way they reported anything unusual.

"You really should have taken the deal with the Purple Moon guild."

The suggestion came softly, not as a scold, but as someone trying the same argument again because desperation didn’t offer many new options.

"No, that guy, I know him, he’s a creep, the worst kind. I’ll never take that deal."

Her tone left no room for negotiation.

The creature didn’t argue after that. It only let out a small, resigned sound and swam in a tighter circle, as if burning off frustration in the only way it could.

"Food’s ready!" Kael shouted. "Get out and get dry while it cools," he said as he sat next to the smoking meat.

The shout carried across the riverbank, confident and careless. He didn’t sound like a man worried about being heard. He sounded like someone calling a friend over for dinner.

Yenna’s stomach betrayed her immediately, grumbling loud enough that she felt heat climb into her cheeks even through the cold water. She prayed he wouldn’t hear it.

"How are you feeling?" The creature asked.

Yenna moved closer to the bank, "Like I could eat an elephant. This side effect is really terrible," she sighed as she walked out of the river and walked toward Kael.

The cold left her body in a rush as she stepped onto the rocks, and her legs wobbled for half a heartbeat before she forced them steady.

Wet clothes clung to her like a second skin, outlining both her figure and bruises she didn’t want anyone to see. Her hair stuck to her neck and shoulders, dripping steadily, leaving dark spots on the ground as she walked.

But the stink of blood was mostly gone. That alone was worth the discomfort.

Her eyes stayed on Kael’s hands the whole time. Not his face. Not the meat. The hands. The hands told the truth.

She felt rather powerless, especially with her saber propped against the tree next to Kael. But, he never reached for it. Never gave it a second glance since the first moment he saw it. Others would have gone greedy, others would have tried to take it. Others, might have done worse.

"Here, have some," Kael handed over a large skewer with the entire thigh on it.

He didn’t offer a small portion. He didn’t offer scraps. He handed her a weaponized amount of food, the entire thigh on a skewer, dripping fat and steaming, the surface crisped from fire. It was generosity, but it was also a test. If she flinched, if she hesitated, if she acted like prey... he’d learn something.

"Thanks," she said as she sat down and began eating.

At first she tried to be civilized. Small bites. Controlled chewing. A pretense of manners that felt ridiculous with blood still under her nails.

The hunger wasn’t polite. It wasn’t patient. It surged up from her gut like a command and she obeyed. Teeth tore through crispy skin. Fingers ripped at muscle. Hot grease burned her tongue and she didn’t care. She ate like the food might vanish if she slowed down, like the tower might punish her for enjoying it.

Kael smiled as he also joined the feast.

He didn’t look disgusted. He didn’t look amused in a cruel way. The smile was small, almost approving, like he’d expected this and found it satisfying. He tore into his own portion with the same practical efficiency he’d used to prepare it.

"What?" she asked with oil dripping from the side of her mouth.

She wiped at her chin with the back of her wrist, smearing grease instead of removing it. She didn’t stop eating while she spoke. Stopping felt dangerous.

"Nothing, just impressed." He said.

"With what?" she asked as she continued eating.

She didn’t like mysteries. She didn’t like being watched. But she especially didn’t like being watched while starving.

"You know how to eat well, have some more, there is more where that come from." Kael said.

He nodded toward the rest of the boar, still hanging, still waiting. The implication wasn’t only food. It was time. It was safety, temporary, fragile safety, offered by a man she still didn’t understand.

Yenna swallowed, grease and heat and relief sliding down her throat.

For the first time since she’d stepped into this mess, the hunger eased, just enough for her brain to start working again.

And that, she realized, might be the real danger.

Because now she could think.

Now she could start asking why a man like Kael was here, half-naked by a river, cooking like nothing in the tower could touch him.

And now she could start wondering whether she’d just sat down to eat with prey... or with something far worse.