Chapter 280 (Patreon)

Early evening draped itself over the western hills with quiet intent, the kind of slow, dimming that made the world feel like it was holding its breath. The light didn’t vanish all at once. It stretched, thinned, and settled into the valleys, leaving the hilltops brushed in gold while the lower paths sank into shadow. From here, the city was little more than a distant suggestion—noise dulled.

The guild wagon rolled to a stop with a low, grinding murmur, its heavy wheels pressing into the uneven earth as if marking this place as something separate from the rest of the world. This was not a road for people. It lay too far from the common path, too hidden from wandering eyes. Even the orphanage routes they often traveled only brushed the edges of these hills. This place sat beyond that—intentionally out of sight.

Kana stepped down first, her boots meeting the ground with a soft, grounded weight. She didn’t rush. Her gaze moved across the hills, taking in the shape of the land, the spacing of the ridges, the subtle dips that could hide movement or distort distance. 

Suri followed, her descent lighter, more casual, though her eyes carried their own sharpness as they flicked across the terrain. She brushed her sleeve absently, more out of habit than necessity, before lifting her chin slightly as if testing the air itself. Boris came next, slower, his weight shifting carefully as he climbed down, Thorne balanced atop his head with practiced ease, her small body unmoving despite the motion. Noa stepped down last, steady and composed, closing the wagon door behind them with a quiet, final thud.

For a brief moment, no one spoke.

The quietness lingered, stretching just long enough to feel intentional.

Then Suri broke it.

“Where is the guildmaster?” she asked, her voice carrying a thin thread of impatience as her eyes scanned the open hills again, searching for something that refused to be seen.

“He should be here soon,” Noa replied, his tone even as he adjusted his hold on his staff. “He had something else to attend to. But he said he’d come here right after.”

Kana didn’t answer.

Because something had already changed.

It came without warning—like a thread pulled tight inside her awareness. Her [Night Awareness] flared to life, not gradually, but all at once. The world sharpened. The wind shifted. The ground beneath her feet seemed to whisper in a language she had learned to understand.

There.

Her gaze lifted slightly, not searching—but locking.

“He’s here,” she said.

The certainty in her voice cut cleanly through the quiet.

Suri turned immediately, her brows drawing together. “Where?” she asked, her eyes sweeping across the hills with renewed urgency.

Boris followed, his posture stiffening as he scanned the horizon, while Noa’s grip tightened around his staff, his stance shifting just enough to prepare without drawing attention.

For a moment—

There was nothing. No movement. No sound.

Just the faint rustle of wind across grass.

And then—

A sudden gust tore through the clearing, violent and precise, ripping across the ground in a sharp burst that sent dust and loose strands of grass spiraling outward. It wasn’t natural. It wasn’t random.

And at its center—

Ruvel.

He appeared as if the world had simply decided to place him there, his boots carving shallow lines into the earth as he came to an abrupt stop. The marks they left behind spoke of speed—of force barely contained. Gone were the relaxed clothes from before. In their place was armor, layered, built not just to protect but to endure battle after battle without failure.

His arms remained exposed.

His head was unguarded. Not because he lacked caution. But because he didn’t need it.

Boris felt it immediately. A tightening in his chest. A quiet, instinctive understanding that settled into his bones before his thoughts could catch up. This was someone you don’t fight. His throat went dry as he swallowed, eyes fixed on Ruvel as if looking away might somehow lessen the pressure—but it didn’t. It only grew heavier the longer he stood there.

And with that realization came another, more troubling one—

Can Kana really win against someone like this?

Ruvel didn’t linger on their reactions.

“Activate it,” he said, his voice calm, steady—yet it carried across the open space with effortless authority.

Noa moved immediately. He stepped forward and tapped the end of his staff against the ground. The response was instantaneous.

Light spread outward from the point of contact, thin at first, then widening into intricate patterns that etched themselves into the earth. Runes formed in layered circles, each line precise, each symbol humming faintly as it settled into place. The glow intensified, stretching farther, climbing the slopes of the surrounding hills until it enclosed the entire area.

A barrier.

Not visible from the outside.

But undeniable from within.

“This isn’t my skill,” Noa said, glancing down briefly at the glowing formations beneath their feet. “Someone else created this.” His voice carried a note of quiet respect. “It blocks both sound and sight. No one outside will see or hear anything that happens here.”

He tapped his staff once more, as if sealing the final layer.

“We use this place for the first trials of new adventurers.”

Boris turned slowly, his eyes tracing the patterns, curiosity slipping through his earlier unease. “What do they even do here?” he asked, his voice lower now, as though the space demanded restraint.

Suri let out a small breath, the corner of her lips lifting.

“Fight,” she said simply. “What else would it be?”

Ruvel’s attention had already switched.

It settled on Kana—and stayed there.

She stood across from him, her armor catching what little light remained. It was different from his. Where his was built to endure, hers was built to move. It covered only what was necessary—vital points protected, everything else left free. It wasn’t meant for prolonged exchanges.

It was meant for precision.

For control. For ending things before they could stretch into something dangerous. Ruvel watched her in silence for a moment, his gaze narrowing slightly—not in doubt, but in reassessment.

He was looking again.

Not at the idea of her but at what stood in front of him now.

“Interesting,” he said at last, the word quiet but deliberate.

“I was confident earlier,” he continued, his voice steady, though something beneath it had changed. Something sharper. “But not tonight.”

…

Noa didn’t waste time lingering near the center. The moment Ruvel and Kana settled into their positions, he moved—quick, precise steps carrying him and the others a safe distance away, far enough that the tension between the two wouldn’t spill over and swallow them whole.

Then he raised his staff.

There was no dramatic chant, no drawn-out gesture. Just a single, deliberate motion—and the air answered.

A faint hum rippled outward, barely audible, like glass beginning to sing under pressure. Then light followed. It gathered in thin strands at first, weaving together in overlapping layers until a translucent blue barrier formed around them. It curved smoothly, enclosing their small group in a dome that shimmered faintly with contained energy.

Not fragile but firm—like something that had been built to endure far more than it appeared.

Boris stepped closer to it almost immediately, curiosity overriding caution. He lifted a hand and tapped the surface lightly.

The response was immediate.

A soft pulse spread outward from the point of contact, the barrier rippling like disturbed water—but it didn’t give.

He knocked again. Harder this time.

Still nothing.

“We’re safe inside this… right?” he asked, though the question carried more doubt than confidence.

He knew better what Kana was capable of.. And if she clashed for someone stronger than her.. He looked around, preparing for plan B in case the shield broke.

On the other side of him, Thorne had already taken matters into her own claws. The small lizard scrambled toward the barrier, pressing against it, testing it, then trying to slip through a gap that simply didn’t exist. She pushed harder, tiny limbs working with surprising determination.

The barrier didn’t even acknowledge her effort. Boris sighed and reached down, scooping her up before she could escalate her investigation into something more chaotic. She wriggled briefly in protest before settling, her eyes still fixed on the glowing surface like it had personally offended her.

“This isn’t my skill either,” Noa said, his voice calm as he lowered his staff slightly. “Not in this form.” He glanced at the barrier, the faint glow reflecting in his eyes. “The runes are doing most of the work. I’m just… directing it.”

Suri, however, wasn’t paying attention to him. Her eyes were locked onto the barrier itself, studying it with a focus that bordered on obsession. She stepped closer, not touching it, but observing the way the light bent, the rhythm of its pulses, the subtle layering of energy that held it together.

“This is good…” she murmured under her breath.

Her fingers twitched slightly, as if resisting the urge to test it herself.

“This structure…” she continued, her voice low, thoughtful. “It’s not entirely different from a standard mana barrier. The layering is more complex, but…” She tilted her head, eyes narrowing as she followed a faint line of energy along its surface. “If I adjust the flow… compress the outer layer while reinforcing the inner lattice…”

A small pause.

“I could replicate something similar.”

Another pause.

Then, quieter—

“…though it would drain an absurd amount of mana.”

Noa didn’t respond. Didn’t even look at her. Because to him, there was nothing to respond to. Ancient runes weren’t something you could replicate. They weren’t tricks to be reverse-engineered on a whim. They were relics—fragments of knowledge that existed beyond modern understanding. Even attempting to compare them to standard mana constructs felt… misplaced.

So he said nothing and let the idea fade on its own.

Boris, meanwhile, had already focused his attention. His gaze drifted past the barrier—toward the center of the field. Toward Kana.

From this distance, framed by the fading light and the wide stretch of open ground, the difference was impossible to ignore.

“…Kana looks like a kid,” he said quietly.

It wasn't a mockery. Suri followed his gaze—and then, despite herself, let out a small chuckle.

Because he wasn’t wrong. From where they stood, Kana’s figure seemed almost fragile, her smaller frame outlined against the vastness of the hill. Across from her, Ruvel stood like something carved from stone—unmoving, grounded, immense in comparison.

And the contrast between them made the scene feel… unbalanced.

At least at first glance. Noa’s eyes narrowed slightly as he studied Kana more closely.

“Kana can use other weapons?” he asked, his tone carrying genuine curiosity now. “I thought she specialized in bows and daggers.”

Suri shrugged lightly, though her gaze remained fixed on Kana.

“I’m not entirely sure,” she admitted. “But I’ve seen it before.” A faint smile tugged at her lips. “She doesn’t just use them. She picks them up—and suddenly she knows how.”

Boris nodded in agreement, remembering their spear training sessions.

“Not clumsy. Not learning.” She shook her head slightly. “It’s like she skips that part entirely.”

She paused, then muttered under her breath—

“Like she’s remembering instead of learning.”

“I doubt it,” he said after a moment, though his voice lacked its earlier certainty. “Weapon mastery isn’t something you just… acquire.” He shifted his grip on his staff, eyes still on Kana. “Even with skills—compatibility—you still need time. Years, sometimes decades. And you will realize that there is something more to learn.”

He exhaled slowly.

But even as he said it—

Even as the logic settled into place—

There was a small part of him that hesitated because Kana stood out there now, facing someone like Ruvel without fear.

Without hesitation.

And somehow—

That didn’t feel like something built slowly over time. It felt like something that had always been there.

Post note:

Suri's new discovery about mana would power her up?

Hope you enjoy the chap! 🙂

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