CHAPTER 177: [NOWHERE TO BE SEEN]

"Let me show you."

The words weren’t loud—but they hit like a gunshot.

Kairo’s pupils dilated, instincts flaring before thought could catch up. His grip on his sword tightened, stance lowering, aura vibrating faintly in the air. ’What is he—’

Then he felt it.

The shift.

The air moved. Not just around Caelen—but because of him.

And in the same heartbeat, the entire Lion’s Fang Guild came alive.

Punzo snapped his fingers. Once.

The sound cracked like thunder—then the world exploded.

The clearing erupted into light and sound, rings of fire bursting outward from where Caelen stood.

Each wave rolled with rhythmic precision, synchronized detonations painting the air in violent shades of red and gold.

Heat slammed into Kairo’s face, his blood aura flaring blue in reflex as he shielded Eli behind him.

’They’re actually attacking us?’ Kairo thought, disbelief threading through his focus. ’He’s serious.’

Through the shifting blaze, Jabby vanished. Not a blur—just gone. The faint distortion she left behind rippled like air over flame.

"Mel—roots!" Kairo barked, his voice cutting through the inferno.

Mel’s hands hit the earth with a crack, thorned vines erupting from the soil in thick cords, weaving together into a living barricade. For a moment, it worked—until another snap echoed.

Punzo grinned, teeth glinting through the smoke. "Boom."

The vines combusted instantly. The flames didn’t just burn—they followed

the sound, bursting precisely at every vibration Punzo created. Each explosion built on the last, heat and rhythm intertwined in a deadly tempo.

A dance.

Kairo could feel it—the pattern, the pulse. Every pop of sound carried fire; every flick of Punzo’s wrist dictated the beat of destruction.

"Not gonna work," Punzo drawled, another finger snap setting off a burst right behind Kairo.

The air pressure shattered. The rhythm—perfect.

Kairo lunged forward, slashing through the blaze, his sword trailing blue arcs of bloodlight that split the smoke apart. "Zaira—distract the—!"

Before he could finish, the air whistled.

A shape flickered past his vision—a shimmer, a whisper—then impact. Zaira barely blocked the strike, shards of refracted mana scattering like glass rain.

Jabby materialized for a fraction of a second, eyes sharp, hair whipping in the heat before she dissolved back into the wind.

Mio’s threads reacted instantly, whipping around Kairo and Eli in glimmering lines of silver, forming a mesh of protection that crackled under the pressure.

"They’re syncing their attacks!" Mio shouted, his voice taut. "They’re moving in rhythm—every strike, every step—!"

The ground erupted.

A deafening roar split the battlefield as the soil buckled upward. Arman burst from below, his blade vibrating with violent energy. The shockwave exploded outward, cracking the earth in every direction.

"Pulse Arc!"

The impact sent Mel flying backward, vines tearing apart as though ripped by invisible claws.

Kairo braced, boots digging into the fractured ground, just in time to block a follow-up pulse that came screaming toward his chest.

Sparks exploded on impact—blue against gold, light against sound.

He grit his teeth, sliding back a step, the dirt beneath him glowing red-hot. Through the haze of dust and flame, he saw them—Caelen’s team—moving as one.

Punzo’s fire set the rhythm. Jabby’s wind dictated sight. Arman’s raw power shattered balance.

And Caelen...

Caelen stood at the center, unmoving, sword in one hand, aura alive with heat and gravity. Every pulse that should have hit him bent off-course—redirected, absorbed, used. The crimson light around him pulsed like a heartbeat, steady and unrelenting.

Kairo slashed through the air again, sending a wave of condensed blood energy screaming toward them.

It should’ve split the ground, torn through the mist—ended the formation.

But it didn’t.

Jabby’s veil appeared just in time, her silhouette flickering through the chaos as the blood wave bent—deflected by sheer air pressure. The energy scattered harmlessly into the sky.

Arman’s counterstrike followed instantly, his pulse detonating against the scorched earth.

The explosion cracked like thunder, forcing Kairo to leap back as the ground beneath him erupted in shards of molten stone.

The forest trembled. The air rippled with force.

They were relentless.

Not perfect—but dangerous in a way that came from familiarity. They weren’t just a team—they were one mind, one rhythm. Every move calculated through trust, timing, and instinct.

And through it all, Caelen’s gaze never wavered.

He didn’t shout orders. He didn’t command.

He led.

With nothing but presence—and the quiet, unshakable confidence of someone who knew exactly what he was doing.

Kairo exhaled sharply, eyes narrowing. His blade thrummed like a living thing.

"Caelen, I’m warning you. If you don’t fucking—"

Kairo’s voice was drowned out by the explosion of motion.

Mio’s threads snapped forward, silver light slashing through the smoke as they coiled tightly around Arman’s blade.

The air sizzled under the strain—metal grinding, mana clashing. For a heartbeat, Kairo thought they’d done it. The threads held. The vibration steadied.

Then Arman grinned.

The sound that left him wasn’t human—it was a bark of laughter, wild and sharp, the kind that came right before a storm hit. "Nice try," he muttered.

The pulse hit before anyone could react.

The golden energy surged down the blade and into the threads, running the current back the way it came. Mio’s eyes widened as his own attack betrayed him.

The shockwave detonated near his chest.

"—MIO!"

Zaira’s scream tore through the clearing as Mio was thrown back, his body slamming into the cracked ground with a sickening thud. The threads disintegrated midair, unraveling into sparks of silver light that fell like dying embers.

Zaira spun toward him, panic overtaking focus—

—and that’s when the world turned to fire.

Punzo’s laughter echoed through the haze, followed by a single snap of his fingers.

A wall of flame ignited behind her, scorching the mist into vapor. Heat rippled outward in concentric waves, air bending from the pressure.

Kairo lunged before thought could form. His sword flashed, slicing through the blaze. Blood energy burst outward, scattering the fire into glittering fragments that rained down like burning snow.

"Fall back!" he shouted—but his voice was drowned in the roar of the inferno.

The forest trembled. Trees split under the heat. The ground beneath them groaned and cracked, swallowing smoke and light alike.

And through it all, Caelen didn’t move.

He stood dead center in the chaos, hand steady on his sword’s hilt, eyes tracking every motion with razor focus.

His aura pulsed—not violently, not wild like his team’s—but deep and steady, the kind of power that swallowed everything around it. Each flare of mana from his teammates’ attacks bled toward him, absorbed, redirected, anchored.

It was seamless—flawless even.

Kairo’s chest burned as he caught his breath, his team regrouping near him, battered but not broken. He could feel their energy—strained, shaking. "You are aware," he muttered, voice low, "that once I attack—there’s no turning back?"

Caelen’s response came with a bitter laugh, smooth and cutting. "Is that your idea of a threat?"

The smirk that followed was almost cruel—familiar in the worst way.

Kairo’s blood blade pulsed in his grip, reacting to his rising frustration. Across the clearing, Caelen’s crimson aura deepened, heat distorting the air around him.

The worst part wasn’t that Caelen’s team was winning.

It was that he hadn’t even moved yet.

He was standing there—calm, unshaken—controlling the battlefield without swinging once.

A tank. An anchor. A storm waiting to break.

And Kairo knew.

The moment Caelen moved—really moved—the ground itself would split. The world would shake.

And as much as he wanted to wipe that smirk off his face, he couldn’t risk it. Not when they were supposed to be figuring out what was happening with—

"Eli?"

Kairo turned sharply, scanning through the haze. His voice lost its bite, roughening.

The space behind him was empty.

The faint silver threads that had been wrapped protectively around Eli were torn. The ground where he’d stood was cracked, burned—vacant.

Kairo’s stomach dropped.

"...Eli?" he said again, quieter this time.

No answer.

Not even the faint sound of breathing.

The chaos stilled for a heartbeat—everyone’s attention snapping to the empty space.

Eli was nowhere to be seen.