Chapter 343 (Patreon)

Rasta Escudo didn’t feel surprised so much as he registered it, like a crack forming in tempered glass he had once trusted to be unbreakable.

His [Shield Guard] held, but not comfortably. It tightened around him in layered instinct, an invisible fortress absorbing blow after blow from the girl in front of him. Each strike she delivered was precise in a way that felt almost unnatural, not because it was fast, but because it was learned. She wasn’t repeating patterns, she was dismantling him. Reading him in motion. Adjusting mid-exchange. Rewriting her approach every time he thought he had predicted her.

That alone should not have been possible at her level. Not at her age.

And yet it was happening.

Rasta exhaled slowly through his nose, forcing his body to remain steady as his skill [Unified Mind and Body] locked his fear into something colder, more functional. It kept him from panic, from hesitation, from the small unraveling that would come from realizing the truth too early. But even that discipline had limits, and he could feel them approaching with every impact against his shield.

His defense was not breaking.

Not yet.

But it was learning what breaking felt like.

He stayed crouched, shield raised, refusing to give her even a fragment of an opening beyond what she had already carved out herself. The only thing he could afford now was patience. Wait. Observe. Survive until the others arrive. That was the plan, the structure, the certainty he had been clinging to since the moment this engagement began.

Then the gray world fractured.

At first it was small, like hairline cracks in air itself, spreading outward in impossible geometry. Rasta’s attention snapped toward it instantly, hoping to ignite in a controlled, restrained way.

They are here.

That was the only logical interpretation. The others would arrive to stabilize the situation.

For a heartbeat, that hope held.Then reality broke. 

The gray expanse collapsed like shattered stone falling inward, and the desert returned in a rush of cold night wind and sand. The same battlefield. The same position. As if nothing had changed and everything had changed at once.

Rasta’s eyes moved around.

And stopped.

Two bodies lay nearby. They were not moving. Wrong in the way only death makes things wrong.

The two heavenly Jhings. Gone. For a moment, even Rasta’s thoughts stalled, as if his mind refused to immediately process the reality.

Then Hora Espada’s voice cut through the silence.

Calm. Almost thoughtful. “Rose Light is a lucky woman,” he said, tilting his head slightly as if observing an interesting result rather than a catastrophe. “We must not underestimate her. Luck is a very dangerous weapon.”

He crouched beside the bodies, inspecting them with detached curiosity. There was no urgency in his posture, no visible anger, only a quiet acknowledgment of failure that felt more dangerous than panic would have.

“Looks like they cannot escape their own fate,” Hora added. “A pity. I liked that temporary world skill.”

Rasta did not speak right away. Because speaking would have meant admitting what his instincts had already concluded. That if this fight had continued inside that gray world just a little longer, if the conditions had held, if the unknown variables had aligned differently…

He would not be standing. He would be on the ground beside them. His grip on his shield tightened, not in defiance, but in recognition.

For the first time, the Four Heavenly Jhings had been outmatched. Maybe all of them except for Hora Espada. He looked fine in every angle just like before they entered the grey world.

….

The grey world fractured without warning.

Kana had been shifting her stance, preparing to adjust her attack pattern, when the entire space around her cracked like thin glass under pressure. Countless fractures spread through the air itself, spidering outward in every direction. The man in front of her stiffened as well, his composure breaking for the first time as he looked around in visible confusion.

Kana didn’t wait for an explanation. Instinct took over. She pulled back into a defensive stance, ready for anything.

And then the world dropped out from beneath them.

One moment she was in that unnatural gray expanse, in a place that felt like a sealed room without walls. The next, cold night air hit her lungs, and sand pressed against her boots. The desert returned in full force, vast and open under the dark sky, their wagon sitting nearby as if nothing had ever happened.

For a heartbeat, Kana didn’t move.

Then she exhaled.

They were back.

The same battlefield. The same positions. The same chaos waiting to resume as if reality had simply paused and resumed without explanation.

Her eyes immediately locked onto the familiar cluster of bodies near the ground. Boris was lying flat, unmoving. On top of him, as if gravity had decided to become a joke, Ryle was sprawled in an awkward heap. Chelle Pint was perched on top of both of them, blinking in confusion as she slowly processed the return of reality. Their position was the same as before.

Suri was the first to break the silence.

“Oh,” she said, brushing dust from her sleeves as though she had simply returned from a brief inconvenience rather than another world entirely. “The old man was really the one who casted those strange grey thing.”

Kana turned toward her, still catching her breath. “You were there too?”

Suri nodded. Chelle, still pale but regaining some composure, nodded quickly as she stood and helped Ryle up first before checking on Boris. Her hands lingered for a moment as she confirmed he was still breathing, her expression tightening with concern.

Before anyone could fully process what had happened, a heavy thud echoed across the sand.

Rose Light collapsed.

Her armor hit the ground with a dull, exhausted sound. Deep cuts marked her arms and face, and her posture lacked the controlled strength she always carried. Even in unconsciousness, she looked like someone who had fought too long against something far beyond expectation.

Kana moved immediately, stepping forward as relief cut through the tension in her chest. She focused her [Night Awareness] into Rose’s body. She was still alive. Breathing. Stable, if battered. That alone was enough to steady her thoughts.

“I don’t know what happened,” Kana said quietly, more to herself than anyone else, “but the commander is alive.”

A bird cut through the sky above them, circling once before descending sharply. Midair, it shifted, feathers dissolving into form and motion until Artin landed in human shape beside them.

His eyes swept the scene instantly. “Where have you guys been?” he asked, voice sharp with urgency. “We’re looking everywhere.”

Then his gaze landed on Rose Light.

His expression changed immediately.

“Lady Rose—what happened?”

But Rose didn’t answer. Artin hesitated for a second, then rushed forward.

Meanwhile, Suri was already at Boris’s side, shaking him with growing panic. “Wake up!”

Kana stepped in gently, placing a hand on Suri’s shoulder. “He’s alright,” she said calmly. “He’s just sleeping.”

Suri exhaled hard, tension draining from her shoulders in a single wave.

Around them, confusion slowly turned into fractured stories. Chelle, Suri, Ryle, and Kana each spoke in turn, piecing together what little they understood of the grey world, the man they had faced, and the strange battles that had unfolded in isolation. Two names stood out in the end, spoken with a mixture of disbelief and reluctant respect.

Boris and Suri.

Against all expectations, they had survived their encounters and killed the strange man waiting for them. 

….

The journey toward the Empire continued.

Or at least, that was the plan.

The wagon rattled steadily across the desert, its wheels cutting shallow tracks through the red sand as the survivors tried to piece themselves back together after the chaos of the previous night. The mood inside was far quieter than before. Even the knights, usually eager to share stories or argue over battles, spoke in hushed voices.

Rose Light and Boris remained unconscious in the back of the wagon.

One of the knights possessed a [Light Healing] skill and had already treated most of Rose’s visible injuries. The cuts along her arms had closed, and the bruises covering her body had faded considerably. Physically, she appeared much better than she had when she collapsed.

Yet she still hadn’t opened her eyes.

Boris was even stranger.

Unlike Rose, he showed no obvious injuries at all. Not a scratch. Not a bruise. His breathing was steady, his heartbeat normal. If someone saw him for the first time, they would simply assume he had decided to take an unusually long nap.

Kana knew better.

Boris had chosen his evolved class only recently. Whatever transformation he had used against Dante, whatever power had allowed him to defeat one of the Heavenly Jhings, likely came with a cost. Skills that granted overwhelming strength rarely existed without consequences.

At least, that had been true for every powerful ability Kana had encountered so far.

“He’s going to be alright, right?” Suri's voice was unusually quiet. She sat beside Boris, her hands folded tightly together as she stared at his sleeping face.

For someone who had calmly slit an old assassin's throat only hours ago, the concern in her expression seemed oddly innocent.

Kana followed her gaze.

Thorne was curled up comfortably on Boris’s chest, sleeping peacefully. The small drake occasionally twitched its tail but otherwise looked completely unconcerned.

Kana couldn't help smiling faintly. “I think so,” she said. “Thorne doesn’t look worried.”

If Boris were truly in danger, Kana doubted the creature would be sleeping so comfortably.

Suri seemed to relax slightly at that. Across from them, Chelle adjusted her position against the side of the wagon. The rhythmic rattling of the wheels filled the brief silence before curiosity finally got the better of her.

“I wonder what happened to the commander.”

Kana leaned back against the wooden wall and thought about the previous night.

The image of Rose Light collapsing into the sand surfaced immediately.

The blood.

The cuts.

The exhaustion.

Rose had looked less like a commander and more like someone who had survived a disaster through sheer stubbornness.

“I’m curious too,” Kana admitted. “Whoever she fought... she pushed herself to her limits. She barely survived.”

That alone was difficult to imagine. Rose Light had always appeared prepared for everything. Every route, every contingency, every possible ambush seemed to exist somewhere inside her plans. Always composed. Seeing her defeated felt almost unnatural.

Artin, who had been quietly listening nearby, folded his arms. “I agree,” he said. “This is the first time I’ve ever seen Lady Rose in that condition.”

His voice carried genuine disbelief. Artin had worked with her far longer than any of the knights. “Never in my life,” he continued, shaking his head, “did I think I'd see her looking that badly beaten.”

Silence settled over the wagon once more. Outside, the desert stretched endlessly beneath the afternoon sun. Inside, everyone was occupied by the same unspoken thought. The Four Heavenly Jhings had attacked. Two were dead. Two had survived. And somehow, despite all of that, they were still moving toward the Empire.

Closer to the capital.

Closer to whatever awaited them there.

If the Heavenly Jhings had been only the welcoming committee, Kana wasn't sure whether she should be excited or worried about what came next.

Judging by Rose Light's condition, she suspected the answer was both.

Post note:

Yes. Rose is still alive. 🎉

3rd chap of the week

Hope you enjoy the chap! 🙂

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