Regression: Reclaiming the End

The Next Morning

Sunlight streamed into the apartment, warm and golden, filtering through the glass panes that overlooked the waking city. I stepped out of my room, freshly showered, wearing a black compression shirt and tactical pants—gear suitable for light training and prep work.

The scent of garlic and eggs hit me instantly.

"You’re cooking again?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Noel glanced over his shoulder from the kitchen, flipping over a golden omelet in the pan. "Yeah. Figured you’d need something decent before prepping for Floor 9. Plus, you didn’t eat much last night before going to bed."

I smirked faintly and sat at the table. "You really took that househusband joke seriously, huh?"

He rolled his eyes. "Eat before I poison it next time."

A moment later, he set the plate down: eggs, fried rice, slices of grilled chicken, and a cup of hot tea. I dug in without argument. I needed the fuel. Tomorrow, I’d step into the 9th floor of the Crimson Rift, and I could already feel the tension building in my bones.

Then, the TV lit up.

"—breaking development for Vassals nationwide."

We both turned our heads.