Chapter 246 (Patreon)

They left Saltrain without ceremony, the village shrinking behind them until it became little more than a scatter of lantern lights trembling in the dark. The borrowed horses ran hard beneath the silver light of the moon, hooves drumming against the packed earth in a steady rhythm that felt almost triumphant. Cloaks snapped in the wind. Breath plumed in pale bursts.

For an hour they kept that pace.

The students did not tire. The horses did.

Kana felt it first in the subtle stutter of strides, in the way the animals’ breathing grew heavier. She raised a hand, and the group slowed to a reluctant trot. Midnight crept in quietly, wrapping the road in a deeper shade of blue.

She wanted to continue.

Night wrapped around her senses like a familiar cloak. Her skill, [Night Awareness], stretched outward, touching trees, stones, distant fields. In darkness she felt sharper, more precise. The world thinned into clear lines and intentions.

But along that invisible web of perception, she also felt something else.

Fatigue.

Not her own.

Kier’s posture had begun to tilt forward in the saddle. Yuri’s blinking lasted a fraction too long. Even Suri, who looked perpetually animated, had grown quieter.

Kana exhaled through her nose and scanned ahead. A shallow creek glimmered faintly between low reeds, moonlight scattering across its surface like broken glass.

She signaled to stop.

They set up a light camp near the water. No grand fire. A few small tents unfurled. Horses were watered and tethered. The night hummed with insects and distant movement. Within minutes, most of the group had collapsed into sleep, boots still half-laced.

Kana remained seated for a while, listening.

Only when the sky began to pale did she allow herself to lie down.

Morning arrived like a blunt instrument. Kana woke groggy, irritation prickling beneath her skin. She was certain she had drifted off several times during the night, brief blackouts between stretches of awareness. Yet somehow, she had remained alert enough to track every shift in wind and every rustle beyond the creek.

It left her feeling… divided.

The second night returned her to herself.

As the sun dipped and shadows lengthened, something inside her straightened. Her thoughts sharpened. Her pulse steadied. [Night Awareness] bloomed outward again, richer than before.

That was when she noticed the owl.

It circled high above, wings silent against the dark. Not the same bird from earlier. The first had flown off at dusk. This one kept its distance, precise and patient.

Kana narrowed her eyes.

Below, the rhythm of hooves continued. She found it faintly impressive how quickly everyone had adapted to riding. Yuri sat balanced and composed. Roy had corrected his posture entirely. Even Elle rode with quiet control.

Then there was Suri.

Suri did not hold the reins.

She leaned back casually, hands resting behind her head at times, as though reclining on a moving chair. And yet her horse matched their pace flawlessly, navigating bends and dips without guidance.

The animal looked less trained and more… intimidated.

“I don’t know what he was trying to do,” Lex said, glancing up at the owl slicing across the sky.

The pounding of hooves made conversation thin and strained.

Kana raised her voice just enough. “I think he’ll join us later when we stop for dinner.”

Her tone carried certainty rather than speculation.

And she was right.

On the second night, just as they slowed near a stretch of tall grass and began preparing their meal, a figure emerged from the darkness as casually as if he had always been walking beside them.

Artin dusted off his sleeves, looking mildly inconvenienced rather than winded.

Artin transformed.

The shift was fluid and unsettling, bones reshaping beneath skin without grotesque distortion, until a sleek horse stood where he had been. The creature snorted once and immediately took the lead position.

From that night forward, the pattern settled into something almost ritualistic. Ride hard under the moon. Rest briefly. Move again.

Days blurred. Nights passed.

Artin guided them along hidden paths and forgotten roads, cutting travel time nearly in half. Most of the time he was a horse but sometimes an owl appeared intermittently, never close enough to catch, never far enough to ignore.

Weeks seemed to compress into a single long stretch of wind, hooves, and silver light.

And through it all, Kana felt most alive when the world slept.

…

By the time they reached their destination, a mountain. Winter had retreated like a defeated army. Frost no longer clung to the earth. In its place lay red dust, fine as ground brick, coating boots and hems and settling into the creases of gloves. The air still carried a chill, but it was a restrained one, lacking the sharp cruelty of the northern kingdom’s cold. This was a different kind of harshness. Dry. 

The mountain rose before them in a deep crimson hue, its surface carved and scarred by deliberate intrusion. Wooden beams jutted from the rock at irregular intervals, lashed together with thick rope to reinforce crude platforms. Ladders dangled along the outer face, swaying slightly in the night wind, offering access to higher cave mouths that gaped like dark wounds in the stone.

“There are too many guards right now,” Artin murmured.

His eyes shifted as he spoke. The whites faded beneath a golden sheen, pupils rounding into sharp avian discs with pinpoints of black at their center. His vision stretched far beyond theirs, narrowing and sharpening until the distant figures near the mine became clear to him alone.

The rest of them crouched low near the edge of a rocky cliff overlooking the site. From their position, the mining operation was little more than moving shadows and faint torchlight. Only Artin could see details. The number of sentries. Their patrol routes. The way they leaned on spears when they thought no one watched.

Kana tilted her head upward.

The moon hung enormous and full, pouring silver light over the land without hesitation. It illuminated the red mountain so vividly that the structure looked almost aflame, every ridge and beam etched in stark clarity.

“I think this is the best opportunity we have,” Kana said quietly, her voice steady despite the scale of what lay before them. “Let’s follow the original plan.”

“I still think this is reckless,” Artin replied, the avian sharpness lingering in his gaze. “There is too much we don’t know about that mining site. I know you’ve grown stronger, but you’re still one person.” His eyes flickered toward her. “Remember the twins?”

The words pressed against old memory.

Kana hesitated.

The twins had not merely been strong. They had been precise, coordinated, relentless. She remembered the weight of that encounter, the realization that strength alone did not guarantee victory.

Would she win now?

Her jaw tightened slightly before she answered. “I don’t think there’s anyone there at your level.”

It was not bravado.

Her senses had already expanded outward, [Night Awareness] threading through the distance like invisible wires. She could feel heartbeats within the mountain. The staggered rhythm of men on patrol. The deep, uneven breathing of those asleep inside wooden barracks. The scrape of boots across gravel. The faint echo of coughing from within the tunnels.

At this distance, such clarity should have been impossible.

Yet she felt it all as if she was inside.

She focused further, narrowing her perception until the mountain’s interior became a map of living signals.

No pulse stood out as dominant. No presence radiated the concentrated weight she associated with true danger.

“How did you know?” Artin asked, his voice carrying a hint of suspicion.

“Just a hunch,” Kana replied.

Artin’s expression tightened. “So we’re betting our lives on your hunch?”

“It’s not just—” Kana began, turning toward him.

She was interrupted.

“If Kana is sure,” Suri said brightly, though her tone carried a firm edge beneath it, “then we follow her plan. She never failed before.”

The rest of the students nodded almost immediately. No hesitation. No debate. Their trust settled around Kana like an unspoken oath.

“Let’s follow her,” Lex added, practical as ever. “If things go wrong, we use the modified [Teleportation] scroll and withdraw. We planned for that. And Kana is the leader of this party.”

Artin studied Lex carefully, as if searching for doubt hidden behind composure. Finding none, he exhaled slowly, the golden sheen fading from his eyes as they returned to normal.

“You too?” he muttered.

He looked back at the glowing mountain one last time before shaking his head.

“Fine,” he said at last, resignation folding into acceptance. “Let’s follow the leader.”

Above them, the moon remained unwavering, casting light upon the red dust and the waiting mountain, as if it too wished to witness what would unfold next.

Before they made their descent toward the mining site, the group gathered in a tight circle beneath the shadow of the cliff, their earlier confidence giving way to careful preparation. One by one, dark cloaks were drawn over shoulders, fabric settling like a second layer of night. Cloth strips were tied across the lower halves of their faces, obscuring expressions and dulling the shine of skin beneath moonlight. In the silver glow, they no longer looked like students from an academy. They looked like figures carved from shadow, faceless and dangerous.

“Don’t move,” Boris instructed with unusual seriousness as he knelt in front of Thorne.

The lizard blinked at him, large eyes reflecting the moon like polished gems.

Boris began wrapping strips of pale cloth around her body, carefully threading fabric beneath her limbs and over her back as though preparing an artifact for transport. He adjusted the layers with exaggerated precision, tugging here, smoothing there. “Stay still!” he added, as Thorne’s tail flicked once in mild protest.

Suri tilted her head, arms crossed. “I don’t think Thorne needs to cover herself,” she said, her tone hovering between amusement and skepticism. “They all look exactly the same to me.”

Rin, Yuri, and Elle nodded in agreement, glancing at the distant guards and then back at the lizard as if trying to imagine anyone noticing the difference except the large horn.

Boris clicked his tongue sharply, scandalized. “Exactly the same?” he repeated, as if they had insulted royalty. “Even if you searched the entire kingdom, you wouldn’t find another lizard like her.”

A silence followed.

Not because anyone was convinced.

But because Boris looked so deeply offended that arguing further felt unnecessary.

Thorne, now fully wrapped in white cloth from tail to snout, including the large horn curving proudly from her forehead, gave a small, satisfied wag of her covered tail. The fabric shifted with the motion, making her resemble a ceremonial relic more than a living creature.

Under the moonlight, the horn protruded through a carefully cut opening, gleaming faintly.

She looked, undeniably, conspicuous.

Kana adjusted the edge of her cloak and glanced toward the red mountain once more, her senses already stretching ahead of them. Behind her, the others finished their preparations, cloaked figures standing beside a bandaged lizard that looked far more noticeable than before.

“Ready?” Kana asked quietly.

The wind carried dust across the cliff’s edge, brushing against their cloaks like a final warning.

No one answered aloud.

They simply moved.

Post note:Hope you enjoy the chap! 🙂