ARISE (Solo Leveling OST)
The bathhouse erupted into chaos.
Water demons surged from the rifts, their forms shifting between liquid and solid, limbs stretching unnaturally as they lunged toward the girls with gurgling screeches, but the Huntrix didn’t flinch. They moved as one.
Rumi stepped forward first. In one fluid motion, she unsheathed her Evil Slayer Sword—a long, curved blade etched with ancient depictions of tigers that shimmered faintly in the mist.
She raised the sword high, then brought it down in a clean arc. A wave of purifying light burst from the blade, slicing through two demons mid-lunge. Their forms hissed and dissolved into steam.
Rumi’s eyes were sharp, her movements precise. She fought like a tactician, every strike calculated, every step measured.
“We can't let those demon boys get away!” she called.
Mira spun into the fray, her Crescent Moon Glaive already in motion. The pole weapon gleamed under the bathhouse lights, its crescent edges trailing silver arcs through the air.
She moved like a storm—fast, unpredictable, beautiful, and brutal.
With a shout, she launched the glaive across the room. It ricocheted off the tiled walls, slicing through three demons before returning to her hand like a loyal hawk.
“Go!” she shouted, grinning through the sweat. “We'll cover your back!”
Zoey danced between the shadows, her Spirit Daggers glowing with ethereal blue light. Each blade pulsed with the energy of ancestral spirits, whispering guidance as she moved.
She struck fast and close, daggers flashing, vanishing, reappearing in her hands like magic. One demon lunged at her, but she ducked low, slid beneath it, and drove both blades into its core. It howled before bursting into mist.
“Yena should go with you, in case you're outnumbered,” She uttered, flipping a dagger in her palm.
And then there was Yena.
She stood at the center, her Divine Fan open in one hand. Her movements were graceful, almost dance-like. Each sweep of the fan sending waves of slicing wind and radiant energy across the room.
She spun, the fan trailing light, and a demon was cleaved in half by a gust that shimmered like sunlight through silk.
Another lunged from behind, but Yena turned, eyes blazing, and snapped the fan shut with a crack. A pulse of divine force blasted the creature back into the rift it came.
She exhaled, steadying her breath. “Got it!” before following right after Rumi through the doors where boys went. However, what Mira and Zoey didn't thought of, was that the demons kept coming.
Rumi caught up first and apprehended Jinu before he could escape. They both, with poise and agility, evaded each other's attempts at attack.
Yena has arrived just in time but saw the two had moved to another area, following after with haste, knowing Rumi might need an extra hand.
Steam coiled like breath from as the bathhouse morphed into a battleground. Pools shimmered eerily in the low lighting, and reflections danced like broken memories across slick tiles.
Yena had barely taken a step toward Rumi, who was already locked in fierce combat with Jinu deeper in the chamber, when a subtle shift in the air sent her instincts screaming. The air cooled unnaturally, every droplet of vapor seeming to swirl toward one shape.
As a presence peeled itself from the mist like ink bleeding through paper.
Romance.
He stepped forward slowly, almost lazily, but every detail screamed threat. His long pink hair, which had darkened, fell across his shoulders like silk laced with venom.
His irises had darkened into a piercing yellow, glowing faintly around his pupils. Veins of demonic patterns that shimmered beneath translucent skin like tattoos made of flame.
His hands, once graceful, had shifted. Claws tipped each finger now, obsidian and wickedly curved.
Yena stilled, her grip tightening around the hilt of her Divine Fan.
"You're quick, but not quick enough," Romance smirked, the air rippling with his voice. “For a hunter, you're more unpredictable, but crushing the rose? That was a touch dramatic.”
She kept her hand close to her chest, her posture seemingly on defense.
“Didn’t you say the rose was a gesture of goodwill?” she said, her tone icy. “Coming from a demon, crushing it was restraint.”
Romance laughed, the sound low and indulgent. “Ah. So, you do have bite.”
He raised his hand as if beckoning, steam curling around his fingers like snakes.
Yena stepped forward, releasing a pulse of silver light that sliced through the mist around them. It bathed her in warmth, catching the crystal rose hairpin glinting in her updo—a beacon and a charm, now pulsing in silent warning.
“Save your seductions,” she murmured, then cooed. “Too bad I don't find any of this attractive.”
Romance’s smile faded slightly, replaced with something sharper. “And yet... you know how to express your emotions. Too daring for a hunter like yourself to express what you feel.”
Yena’s stance shifted—low, deliberate. Divine wind circled her ankles, ready to surge.
Romance’s claws twitched.
“You don't know me.” Her tone laced with anger, and then she moved.
She darted forward, fan slicing in an arc that sent a wave of energy spiraling toward him. Romance dodged, twisting his body with supernatural grace, claws slashing back to deflect. Steam roared.
Their battle wasn't just physical; it was atmospheric. His power carried allure and manipulation; hers, precision and clarity. Each strike from Yena seemed to clear the air, disrupt the enchantments that slithered from Romance's aura.
He lunged again, claws aiming for her side, but she pivoted smoothly, her fan closing just in time to slam into his wrist, redirecting the blow and sending him skidding across slick tiles.
The mist scattered in his wake.
Romance laughed, breathless, eyes alight with intrigue.
“You’re every bit the threat they whispered about,” he said, wiping blood, his own, off his lip with a clawed finger.
Yena lowered her fan slightly, breath controlled but fierce. “You should’ve believed the whispers.”
Romance lunged again, this time faster, his claws slicing through steam as he closed the gap in a single breath. Yena twisted low, her Divine Fan snapping shut to parry the blow, the collision ringing out like a cymbal crack. Their eyes locked in the clash, hers blazing with fury, his gleaming with interest bordering on obsession.
He pressed closer, speaking between strikes. “You think being the docile one makes you faultless?”
Yena shoved him back, the fan unfurling with a sharp flick and sending a gust of radiant energy that pushed him several paces.
She advanced, every movement precise, every step deliberate.
“What makes you think I don't have flaws?” she shot back. “Because even if I did, it doesn't define who I am.”
Romance growled—not from pain, but intrigue. “Is that how you deal with dating scandals?” he hissed.
She halted; her fingers curled tightly around her fan. Among all the things he could attack her with, it had to be that. Yena felt humiliation creeping into her skin, the memory of embarrassment and fear flashing through her mind. For once in a long time, she lost all manner of confidence within the fracture of a second.
Yena stood motionless, her grip on the fan slackened.
Romance’s voice had made a dagger drop into silence. His expression curled into triumph, not cruel, but indulgent. He didn’t strike. Instead, he stepped into her space. His voice suddenly softened.
“You don’t have to pretend for them anymore,” he whispered, breath brushing her ear like perfume laced with static. “With me, there’s no shame. Just truth... and what you want.”
Yena’s gaze wavered.
Her body didn’t move, but her mind spun memories surfacing of midnight calls, Celine interrogating her, stares from the fans when headlines nearly shattered her reputation.
Romance reached out, fingers caressing her jaw, and for one dangerous moment, she leaned in. As if hypnotized by his voice, the weight of exposure, and the alluring promise of being understood.
Her foot shifted, and just a single step, the tile gave way. She hadn’t realized she was at the edge of one of the deep pools. Her balance vanished in an instant, and with a sharp gasp, she tumbled backward, grabbing instinctively.
Her hand caught Romance’s wrist. His eyes widened as both of them fell. Water erupted upward, steam snapping with a hiss as their bodies vanished into the pool’s surface.
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The sky was bruised with twilight, soft strokes of ink and lavender brushing across the heavens as lanterns flickered awake along the path.
A stone bridge arched gently across the lake, its curves carved with floral patterns that time had softened. Wind stirred the surface, sending ripples across the mirrored sky below.
Two figures stood at its center.
Hanbok rustling in the evening breeze, she wore pale blue silk embroidered with phoenix feathers. Her hair was swept up in a style befitting nobility, yet her expression was raw. Eyes, sharp with pain, lips trembling from words unspoken.
He stood opposite her, robes deep wine red, embroidered with thundercloud motifs. His hands were clenched at his sides, jaw locked. Something in his posture screamed regret, but pride held him still.
“You don’t understand,” she whispered.
“I understand too well,” he replied. “You’re trying to disappear. Like you always do when you’re afraid.”
Her hand reached for her chest as if shielding her heart. “Then tell me you don’t love me. Say it clean, say it true.”
Silence. A cicada called from the trees.
She stepped backward toward the railing. “I would rather vanish than be nothing to you.”
He surged forward, reaching out, but she had already turned.
And then she jumped. The water swallowed her in one breathless ripple.
He screamed her name, voice breaking through dusk—but no answer came, only the echo of footsteps above the waves.
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Yena burst from the pool in a rush of steam and cold water, gasping hard as the breath of battle returned to her lungs. Her arms trembled from the fall. She pulled herself onto the slick tiles, dress soaked, fan still clutched in her hand.
Her eyes darted around the room, searching. Romance was gone as if he’d vanished into the memory itself, but her pulse told a different story.
The man on the bridge… It couldn’t be a coincidence.
She pressed a hand to her heart, the ache rising sharp beneath her ribs. Not fear this time, but confusion. A curiosity and a gnawing suspicion that fate had looped her into something far beyond what she’d ever imagined.
Then the screams echoed through the broken door.
“YENA!” Zoey’s voice cracked like a whip through the haze. “We need backup, NOW!”
Mira followed with a guttural yell, her glaive cleaving through a wave of liquid fiends. Dozens of water demons surged forward, writhing through shattered rifts, crashing like tides against the hallway walls.
Yena was on her feet before her thoughts could catch up. She raced toward the chaos, just as Rumi rejoined the fray from the far side, her sword already glowing again with spiritual flame.
Yena charged in, fan open once again, releasing a gust that sliced through the nearest cluster of water demons, vaporizing them in a burst of golden mist. Mira grunted in relief, twirling her glaive to catch three more before they pounced. Zoey spun past her, daggers flashing as she drove one creature back into a rift.
“Nice timing!” Mira shouted.
Yena nodded, panting, pushing her drenched hair from her eyes. “Had an accidental soak. Quite refreshing.”
They pressed forward. Rumi forming a front-line wall, Mira and Zoey flanking in sync, and Yena darting between them like wind incarnate. Her divine fan disrupted demon formations with each sweep, fracturing corrupted magic with shimmering force.
One demon burst into a whirlpool of shrieks, another boiled into mist under Rumi’s blade, and another slammed into the far wall as Zoey’s dagger hit its core. The last wave broke against them like foam on rock.
The final water demon lunged toward Mira with a screech, but Yena slid beneath it, an upward strike from her fan cracking it midair into glittering fragments.
Silence.
Only their breath remained. Rapid. Ragged. They were soaked, scratched, bruised, and utterly exhausted.
Mira leaned on her glaive, sweat running down her temple. “We seriously need a better post-hunter hobby.”
Zoey groaned, collapsing into a seated sprawl. “Can we vote for demon-free bathhouses from now on?”
Rumi didn’t speak. She scanned the shattered room, jaw tight. “They escaped.”
Yena wiped water from her jaw, her face unreadable. He's gone, and she has no answers, just a growing storm inside her heart.
ns216.73.216.250da2
and then Add to home screen.