CHAPTER 206: CHAPTER 206 - ATTACKED FROM BEHIND

The smoking wreckage of the huge grayling ship had barely come to a stop before several small escape capsules burst out from its ruptured side. The metallic pods spun wildly as they were expelled, slamming into the ground with jarring thuds and scattering dust and scorched earth across the clearing.

From within them, the Graylings came crawling—grotesque, squelching things with slick limbs and glimmering weapon-tentacles twirling iut. They didn’t hesitate. Even injured, they spilled out like a tide of tentacled rage.

Xing Yu and Varon were already on the move.

Xing landed in a crouch near the closest pod, his blade already drawn and glinting faintly with a silver light. Without a word, he surged forward and sliced straight through the first Grayling before it had fully uncoiled its limbs. His movements were quick, deadly—like a shadow given form.

Varon followed close behind. His weapon was different—shorter, rougher, with a jagged, broken edge like it had been torn off a larger sword. He handled it with both hands, swinging it in powerful, wide arcs. His strikes weren’t as fluid as Xing Yu’s—more brute force than grace—but they still cut clean when they hit.

Jian stood frozen at the edge of the trees, unable to look away.

He’d never seen anything like this. Xing Yu was... terrifying. And beautiful. Every movement he made was exact, purposeful. The Graylings tried to retaliate—one lunged with two limbs at once, another fired a crude energy blast—but Xing dodged them all with the ease of someone who’d done this a thousand times before. He spun low, ducked under the whip of a tentacle, then severed the creature from groin to skull with one smooth, rising slash.

The way his muscles moved under that black suit—tight, flexible, some sort of battle-skin—was impossible to ignore. They coiled and flexed with every lunge, every twist. It was all speed and power, honed and weaponized.

Jian’s throat felt suddenly dry.

He swallowed hard.

The heat had started somewhere in his chest—like a small ember—but it was spreading now, rising through him with an aching intensity he didn’t understand. His hands were clenched around the hilt of his sword, but not from fear. Not even anticipation.

Longing.

He wanted that strength. That unshakable composure. That ease with which Xing Yu took down enemies like they were nothing but crumpled paper. Every slash of his blade made Jian’s breath catch, not just from awe, but from something deeper—something that unsettled his stomach and made his chest feel too tight.

Another Grayling screeched as Varon’s jagged blade tore into it. The man grunted, moving slower than Xing but determined, each step braced and tactical. He was skilled—but even next to him, Xing Yu shone like something not quite human. Not just a soldier. A weapon. A force.

Jian bit his lip, the burn in his chest deepening.

He wanted to be like him.

And—he realized with a jolt of confusion—he wanted him, too. The way Xing’s mouth tightened when he moved. The way his eyes narrowed. The calm in his expression even as blood splattered across his arms.

Jian’s heart thumped harder, and he looked away quickly, face burning.

What the hell was that?

But even as he tried to focus on something else, the image of Xing Yu standing there, sword dripping, eyes cold and sharp—seared itself into his mind.

"Holy shit..." Nansich whispered beside him, eyes wide as he watched Xing Yu move like a living blade, a blur of black and silver in the battlefield. "That guy is so cool."

Jian’s jaw tightened. Something inside him flared.

He turned to glare at the boy beside him, but Nansich just blinked innocently, as if he hadn’t said anything out of place.

"What?" Nansich shrugged with a slight grin. "I’m just saying the truth. He looks fucking hot, too."

Jian’s throat dried again, but this time from a mix of embarrassment and something stranger, darker. That simmering heat in his chest returned, but now it twisted into something bitter, something a little ugly. Why was he irritated? Why did it annoy him that Nansich had said that out loud?

He tore his gaze away, pressing his lips tightly together.

Nansich just laughed softly to himself, like he knew what reaction he’d caused but didn’t care.

A few feet away, Li Wang watched them all silently. His cracked glasses sat crooked on his nose as his eyes flicked between Xing Yu, the crushed Graylings, and then back to Jian.

Li Wang frowned deeply.

This wasn’t good.

He’d come here with one goal—bring Jian back. His father had been clear. The wang family couldn’t afford to lose him.

But now... now he wasn’t so sure that would be possible.

Li Wang pressed his lips into a tight line.

Getting Jian back was no longer going to be about convincing him with logic or promises. Not anymore.

Not with powerful people like them surrounding him.

Xing Yu dragged the last octopus-like Grayling to the ground, his elbow blade plunging deep into the center of the creature’s writhing body. The grayish-black sludge hissed on contact with the air, its screech trailing off into silence. Beside him, Varon let out a grunt, twisting his jagged-edged sword out of a Grayling’s chest. The creature twitched, then fell limp.

That was the last of them.

The clearing was eerily quiet again, the once-metallic air of combat now thick with the stench of scorched flesh and vaporized limbs. Xing wiped the back of his hand across his chin, then turned toward the wreckage of the large ship now half-buried in the soil, its hull cracked open like a split seed pod.

"Let’s go in," he said calmly.

Varon gave a slight nod and followed him up the ramp of the downed Grayling ship. They disappeared inside without hesitation, shadows swallowed by the smoldering wreck.

Jian stood up slowly from behind the trees. His sword was still in his hand, firm grip, unmoving. His legs twitched with the impulse to run after them, to be part of the fight, to see what lay within that alien machine. But he didn’t move.

He simply watched.

He didn’t understand why his chest was tight—was it awe? Jealousy? Resentment? He couldn’t name it. Xing Yu moved like he was born in battle. Jian knew he couldn’t keep up. Not yet.

High above, Eren leaned over the edge of the signal tower with a wide grin. "That’s our cue, boys! The fun’s all done, I’m comin’ down now!"

But before anyone could respond, a rustling noise snapped through the air.

Not from above.

From behind.

Jian’s heart dropped.

They all turned—too late.

From the edge of the trees, something massive stepped out, cloaked in shadows and curling mist. A creature easily three times the size of the previous Graylings, jet black, its skin glistening like wet stone. Its limbs were long and plated, jagged at the edges, and dozens of red eyes blinked from its slick surface, scanning the group with deadly precision.

It hadn’t come crashing down with the others. No—it had been hiding, watching, waiting.

It was right behind them.

"...Shit," Li Wang whispered, stumbling back.

Nansich froze, rake still in his hand, his cocky smirk wiped clean off his face.

Jian couldn’t breathe. The creature’s presence felt wrong, like a deep hole had opened under his feet.

The Grayling let out a low, guttural click.

The loud clicking hadn’t even died down when more rustling thundered through the trees.

Five more emerged, each towering, their limbs twitching unnaturally as they surrounded the clearing. Their grotesque forms shimmered in the haze—their black, armored skin gleamed like obsidian soaked in blood. These weren’t just regular Graylings. These were something worse. Hardened. Mutated. Ready.

The amplifier had worked a little too well.

It hadn’t just drawn the airborne ships—it had pulled in Graylings that were already crawling over the planet’s surface, perhaps lurking underground or scattered in small patrols. Now, they were all converging here.

And the first to move—was the black one.

With an explosive lunge, it charged straight at Nansich.

The boy barely managed a yelp. His rake clattered to the ground as he tripped backward, arms shielding his head—

"Nansich!" Jian shouted, and without hesitation, he leapt in front of him.

His sword gleamed as he slashed with all the force in his body. It connected with the Grayling’s shoulder with a deep, sickening crunch—

—but it didn’t go through.

The blade stuck.

Jian’s eyes widened. His breath caught in his throat.

The creature barely flinched.

It twisted its body violently, dragging Jian along with it like he was nothing but a fly swatted mid-air. Jian stumbled, barely keeping his footing, trying to yank the sword free, but it was lodged deep into the thick armor of the Grayling’s shoulder.

Nansich scrambled backward in the dirt, face pale with shock. "Jian!"

But Jian wasn’t listening—he was staring up at the thing, too close now, the stench of its breath curling around him like acid. One of its smaller limbs darted out toward his ribs, and he had to twist fast, barely avoiding being impaled.

His heart hammered. His sword was stuck. He had no weapon.

And now, five more monsters were crawling into the battlefield behind it, eyes glowing, jaws twitching open.

They were surrounded.