Death Guns In Another World

The morning after his return from Nyx’s inner world was different. For the first time in what felt like weeks, Alex woke up to sunlight rather than the oppressive weight of shadows pressing against his chest. His body, despite its inhumane regenerative ability and hardened physique, carried an exhaustion that no amount of healing could erase. It wasn’t wounds that lingered — it was weariness of spirit. The repeated battles with Nyx, her silent eyes cutting deeper than her blade, had drained him in ways that sleep alone could not mend.

He lay in his bed for a long moment, staring at the faint golden hue leaking through the curtains. For once, he allowed himself to breathe without the thought of battle looming over his mind. Slowly, he sat up, stretched his limbs, and decided.

“Enough training for now… I’ll take a few days off.”

His decision was simple, yet liberating. No swords. No shadow monsters. No oppressive gravity tearing at his every step. Just time to rest, to eat, to drink, to remember what it meant to simply live.

The city of Avila was never lacking in luxuries for those who could afford them. And Alex, a newly minted Black Rank adventurer, had more than enough wealth, considering his vast wealth he brought from Mysthia.

He made his way through the bustling streets, his long coat fluttering behind him as the scent of roasted meats, freshly baked bread, and exotic spices filled the air. Children ran past him, merchants shouted to advertise their wares, and adventurers lounged in taverns, bragging of conquests and displaying scars like medals.

Yet Alex paid them little attention. His destination was one of the city’s hidden jewels — a hot spring inn nestled against the foot of the mountain range, known only to a select few adventurers and nobles. The kind of place where both the body and the spirit could be healed.

The path to the hot springs wound through tall pines, the air growing crisper with every step. Birds called from the branches above, and the sound of rushing water echoed faintly in the distance. By the time he reached the entrance, a traditional wooden gate adorned with lanterns swayed gently in the mountain breeze.

A hostess in a fine kimono bowed respectfully, her smile practiced and serene.

“Welcome, honored guest. You’ve chosen the finest place to rest weary bones. Do you wish for a private spring, or perhaps… the mixed bath?”

Alex smirked faintly. His first thought wasn’t relaxation, but rather a certain dark goddess whose cold presence haunted his every training.

“The mixed bath will do.”

Steam rose in curling waves, carrying the scent of minerals and earth. Alex changed into a simple robe, setting aside his weapons and items for once, and walked toward the spring with deliberate slowness. When he slipped into the water, its warmth enveloped him instantly, soothing muscles that even regeneration had not relieved. A sigh escaped him, unguarded.

For the first time in days, he felt human again.

Yet as he poured himself a cup of whisky — finely aged, amber liquid that reflected the glow of lanterns — a thought crossed his mind.

“…Nyx.”

His companion had not appeared since their last training session. He knew she watched, always, silently judging or silently waiting. Tonight, though, he wanted her to be present. Not as a master, not as a foe, but simply as… company.

“Nyx,” he said aloud, his voice echoing softly against the stone walls and mist, “why don’t you come out and join me? Even gods need to relax once in a while, don’t they?”

A ripple disturbed the mist. Then, without fanfare, Nyx appeared. She emerged as though she had always been there, her pale form wrapped in a dark robe that clung to her like the night itself. Her expression was unreadable — cold, stoic, but not dismissive. She said nothing, only inclining her head slightly. A silent nod.

It was enough.

Together, they slipped into the steaming waters.

The mixed spring should have been a dream — steam rising, the lanterns casting soft golden light on smooth stones, the faint trickle of a waterfall in the corner. Alex poured another cup of whisky and allowed himself a grin. Perhaps, for once, he would get to see Nyx in a vulnerable, human-like state.

But the moment he turned his head, he was greeted not by pale skin or long midnight hair glistening with droplets, but by an impenetrable wall of darkness. A literal barrier of shadow cloaked the space where Nyx sat, obstructing everything from view.

“…You’ve got to be kidding me,” Alex muttered, swirling his drink.

The shadow wall was perfect, seamless, as though she had draped a curtain of void itself between them. He couldn’t even make out her outline. The only evidence that she was truly there was the faint ripple in the water when she moved.

He groaned.

“Really, Nyx? Even here? What’s the point of a mixed spring if you’re going to turn it into a solitary bath? Not even letting me have a little bit of fan service.”

No answer. Only silence. He felt invisible blade at his throat, he forgot that having been together, through their contract she knows what giving some fan service mean as she must have seen some examples from his memory, memory of him watching japenese animes full of fan service.

Still, Alex couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking his head.

“You’re unbelievable. Fine then. I’ll just enjoy myself.”

Time slipped by lazily. Alex leaned back against the smooth stones, his body half-submerged in the steaming water, sipping whisky between bites of roasted meat and rice that attendants brought to the edge of the spring. The food was exquisite, perfectly seasoned and tender, a reminder that the world still had pleasures outside of steel and blood.

And though Nyx remained behind her veil, he felt her presence. The faint shift in the water, the soft clink of porcelain as she too accepted a plate of food, the quiet rhythm of her breathing — it was enough. For a woman who spoke so little, whose silence weighed more heavily than words ever could, this shared moment meant something.

They didn’t need conversation. Not tonight.

Hours passed like minutes. The stars overhead began to emerge, their light reflecting faintly against the rising mist. The mountain winds grew cooler, but the warmth of the spring held them in its embrace.

Alex set aside his empty cup and let his eyes wander skyward.

“…Strange, isn’t it? How quiet things feel after so much noise. All the training, all the fighting… it makes moments like this almost unreal.”

From behind the wall of shadow, there was no reply. Yet, for the first time, he thought he sensed something — not approval, not disapproval, but simply acknowledgment.

And somehow, that was enough.

He closed his eyes, letting the steam wrap around him, letting his muscles unwind, letting his thoughts drift. For once, there was no blade at his throat, no crushing gravity pressing him down. Just the sound of water, the taste of whisky lingering on his lips, and the quiet company of Nyx.

The night stretched on, slow and unhurried. A rare gift in a life otherwise consumed by battle.

And Alex, for all his ambitions, allowed himself the luxury of stillness.