Chapter 283 (Patreon)

It had nothing to do with Kana’s [Night Awareness].

That realization came not as a thought, but as a certainty. The awareness that had carried her through countless battles, that quiet edge that warned her of danger before it arrived, suddenly felt… insufficient.

Because this—

This went beyond awareness.

When Ruvel lifted his greatsword again, the motion appeared unchanged to the untrained eye. The same rise of his arms. The same tightening of his stance. The same gathering of weight that signaled another overhead strike.

It should have been familiar.

But it wasn’t.

Kana’s instincts screamed.

Not as a gentle whisper.

But as a scream that tore through her entire being, drowning out reason, suffocating hesitation, leaving behind only a single, merciless truth:

If you stay—you die.

Her body tensed before her mind could catch up, every muscle coiling as if preparing to tear itself apart just to escape what was coming. It wasn’t fear—not the kind that froze or clouded judgment.

It was a clear sign. The kind that stripped everything down to survival.

And then—

Ruvel spoke.

A murmur.  Almost nonexistent. Words meant for no one but himself.

Kana didn’t hear them but she felt them. Because the moment those words left his lips—

The atmosphere changed as if what came out of his mouth was a curse.

The air thickened, pressing inward as though the space between them had suddenly gained weight. The ground beneath her feet felt less stable, less certain, as if it too recognized what was about to descend.

This was not the same attack. Kana’s thoughts snapped into motion, compressing time into fragments as she searched for an answer.

There was one.

[Dark Pierce]

A direct counter, her most skill that deals a huge amount of damage. A precise, unforgiving thrust designed to meet power with piercing intent—to break through before being crushed.

For a fraction of a heartbeat, she saw it play out.

Her blade meets his. Her skill pushed through her strength and momentum from its speed.

But something held her back.

Not a doubt in herself. It was because of the weapon.

The curved sword in her hand had endured too much already. It had bent beneath strain, shuddered under impact, survived blows it was never meant to take.

This—

This would not be another strike.

Would the blade hold? Or would it shatter the moment it met his?

That single question—

It was enough to decide everything.

Kana chose.

Ruvel's greatsword was falling towards her. And as it did—

Reality fractured around it.

The sheer force behind the motion distorted its path, leaving afterimages that overlapped and blurred, as though the world itself struggled to keep track of something so heavy.

Kana moved.

[Dark Pierce]

Her body drove upward into the motion, her arm extending in a precise, controlled thrust that cut against the overwhelming force above her. Darkness gathered at the tip of her curved sword—tight, concentrated, coiling into something dense and absolute.

For the briefest instant—

Her strike existed. A single point of defiance against something immeasurably greater.

And then—

She let it go.

Her fingers released the sword at the exact moment her technique completed, abandoning it without hesitation. There was no attachment, no second thought—only the understanding that holding on for even a fraction longer would cost her everything.

Her body moved backward.

A desperate leap that sacrificed balance for distance, control for survival. She landed unevenly, her footing breaking beneath her as the ground shifted under the pressure of what followed.

Because when Ruvel’s huge sword connected—

The impact didn’t sound like metal striking earth. It sounded like the world was breaking. The ground collapsed inward, stone and soil giving way as if crushed by an unseen force that extended far beyond the point of contact. The crater formed instantly, violently, the ground itself unable to withstand what had just been delivered.

And then—

The force expanded.

A shockwave tore outward, carrying with it wind, dust, and fragments of shattered ground. It hit Kana like a wall, a physical, overwhelming pressure that slammed into her body with enough force to steal breath and stability all at once.

The air roared.

The world blurred. 

Kana planted her feet, trying to anchor herself, trying to resist—but it wasn’t enough. The force dragged at her, tore at her balance, forced her backward despite everything she tried to hold.

She stumbled.

Once.

Twice.

Her control slipped, her body betraying her just long enough to remind her how close she had come. When the shockwave passed, it left behind a heavy silence—thick, ringing, almost unnatural after the violence that preceded it.

Kana stood there, unsteady for a moment, her chest rising sharply as she fought to reclaim her breath.

Then—

She gulped.

I made the right call, she thought, the words forming slowly, grounded not in pride—but in quiet acknowledgment.

Because anything else—

Would have ended differently. Dust filled the battlefield, thick and choking, swirling in uneven currents that obscured everything beyond a few paces. Time stretched again, each second dragging as the aftermath settled into place.

Then—

It began to clear.

And what emerged—

Was destruction.

A crater stretched across the battlefield, wide and deep, its edges jagged and uneven as if the land itself had been torn apart rather than struck. The point of impact no longer resembled ground—it looked… erased.

At its center stood Ruvel. His greatsword rested in his grip, heavy and still, as though the devastation surrounding him was nothing more than a natural consequence of its use.

Then—

He laughed.

The sound rang out, clear and unrestrained, cutting through the lingering silence with a strange, almost infectious energy. 

“Well,” he said, his voice carrying easily across the ruined field, lighter now but no less sharp, “I suppose… we can call this a draw?”

Kana didn’t answer right away.

Her gaze lingered on the crater, tracing its edges, measuring its depth—not just with her eyes, but with understanding. She could feel it, replay it, reconstruct the moment in her mind with unsettling clarity.

She could see the paths forward.

If they continued—

This wouldn’t end quickly.

It would stretch. Turn into something harsher.

A battle not of single strikes, but of endurance.

Of attrition.

Raw skill against skill.

Will against will.

Until one of them—

Simply couldn’t continue.

This had been a simple duel but not one meant to end in death.

Kana exhaled, slow and steady, letting the tension bleed from her muscles as the weight of the moment finally began to lift.

Then—

She stood up.

Met his gaze.

And gave a single, slow nod.

…..

Inside the cramped wagon, the aftermath of the battle lingered—not in the air, but in their bodies.

Kana leaned back against the wooden frame, her shoulders rising and falling as she drank deeply from a sheepskin, the water spilling past her lips in hurried gulps that betrayed how close she had come to exhaustion. Across from her, Ruvel did the same, far less restrained than his usual composed self, tilting the container high as if trying to pour life back into himself.

The wagon creaked softly as it moved, its narrow space suddenly filled with the quiet, shared understanding of those who had just survived something intense enough to strip away pretense.

Without a word, Kana reached for another sheepskin—then another—pulling from Boris, Suri, and Noa’s supplies with the kind of casual urgency that no one dared question. Ruvel followed suit, uncaring of whose water it was, only that it existed.

For a while—

There was nothing but silence and the sound of drinking.

Then Ruvel exhaled, lowering the sheepskin with a satisfied breath that carried the remnants of adrenaline still burning through him.

“That,” he said, his voice steady again but threaded with unmistakable excitement, “was good practice. Good sweat!”

The words came easily, but there was weight behind them—an acknowledgment, not just a comment. He leaned slightly forward, his eyes sharpening with renewed interest as he looked at Kana, studying her not as a subordinate, but as something far more intriguing.

“We should do that more often,” he continued, a faint grin forming at the corner of his lips. “I learned quite a few techniques from you.”

Kana blinked, caught off guard by the praise.

A faint warmth rose to her cheeks, coloring her expression as she nodded quickly, almost reflexively.

“I also learned a lot from you, Guildmaster,” she replied, her voice softer, more reserved—but sincere.

Ruvel watched her for a moment longer, his gaze narrowing—not in suspicion, but in thought.

“You’re very good with a sword,” he said slowly, each word measured as if he were piecing something together in real time. “Precise. Controlled. Not just fast—you have your way in adjusting your tempo. It was confusing.”

His fingers tapped lightly against the side of the sheepskin, a habit betraying his focus.

“That kind of control doesn’t come easily,” he added. “You must have trained for years.”

Then, with a faint chuckle—

“I bet you’ve been holding a sword since you were born.”

The statement hung in the air, light in tone—but confident.

Suri coughed. Boris moved slightly beside her, his expression tightening just a fraction as he gave a slow, deliberate shake of his head.

Ruvel noticed. His eyes flicked toward them immediately, curiosity replacing certainty as he caught the subtle exchange.

“Why?” he asked, his tone no longer playful, but genuinely puzzled.

Suri froze.

For a moment, she looked like she might say nothing at all.

Her gaze drifted to Kana, then back to Ruvel, hesitation flickering across her face like a shadow that refused to settle.

“Uhm…” she started, her voice uncertain, unusually careful. “I… don’t think I should say this.”

Another pause.

Then, more quietly—

“You might lose your motivation in life. That’s what we felt.”

The words landed awkwardly.

Boris gave a firm nod, his expression serious now.

“I agree,” he added simply.

Thorne, perched comfortably atop his head, mimicked the motion with a small, synchronized dip, as if affirming the statement in her own silent way.

Ruvel blinked.

Once.

Then frowned slightly, confusion deepening as he looked between them.

Kana, meanwhile, tilted her head just a little, her brows knitting together—not in concern, but in mild disagreement.

“I don’t think it’s a problem,” she said, her tone calm, almost casual.

That only made it worse.

Suri exhaled slowly, as though resigning herself to something inevitable.

She looked at Kana one last time—really looked this time—as if silently asking for confirmation, or perhaps forgiveness.

Kana simply smiled.

That was enough as an answer. Well. She was a bit annoyed to be honest.

Suri turned back to Ruvel.

“…I think,” she began carefully, choosing each word as if stepping across unstable ground, “I saw her hold a sword for the first time…”

A brief pause.

“…a few weeks ago or is it a month ago?”

Silence followed.

Kana nodded, her smile widening just slightly, unaware—or perhaps unconcerned—about the impact of her words.

“Yes,” she said simply. “I couldn’t use it before because of some limitation.”

She giggled as if recalling something trivial, she continued,“Yes. Not until I learned a skill that let me use it properly.”

The statement was delivered with innocent clarity.

Noa’s throat moved as he swallowed, seeming to hear all the things inside the wagon as he drive.

Ruvel didn’t react immediately.

But when he did—

His expression changed—not dramatically, but enough. The energy that had filled him moments ago, that excitement, that spark of curiosity—it dimmed, replaced by something heavier.

Something harder to name.

“…Are you serious?” he asked, his voice quieter now, stripped of its earlier enthusiasm.

Noa let out a small breath, as if finally acknowledging what had been weighing on him.

“That’s what I thought too,” he said loudly on the outside, “From what we gathered… Kana could only use a bow and daggers before.”

Another pause and longer this time.

Ruvel leaned back slowly, his gaze drifting away from them, settling on the small window of the wagon where the outside world passed by in muted motion.

The moonlight touched across his face.

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

As if the excitement was gone.

Replaced by silence.

And for the rest of the journey back to the guild—

Ruvel remained that way.

Post note:

Yes, Kana thought it was normal to be good at new things after a few trials! 😂

3rd chap of the week!Hope you enjoy the chap! 🙂

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