CHAPTER 197: CHAPTER 197 - UNPREPARED!!

The desert stretched endlessly beneath the burning sun, the air shimmering with waves of heat that made the horizon blur like molten glass. Sand crunched under their boots as Aiden, Kyle, and Lilliane came to a halt at the crest of a dune. Each of them had already drawn their weapons—Aiden’s golden sword glimmered like a shard of sunlight, Kyle’s blue spear hummed faintly with mana, and Lilliane gripped her wand tightly, her knuckles pale, strands of hair sticking to her forehead from sweat.

Suddenly, panicked cries shattered the silence.

"Run! Run, cultists are here!"

A cluster of students stumbled up the slope toward them, fear etched across their faces, dust trailing behind their frantic movements.

Kyle’s brows furrowed sharply, his grip tightening around his spear. "Cultists... here? What’s going on?"

Aiden’s voice was calm yet resolute, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the shifting dunes. "No time to question it. Let’s save them first."

With that, he surged forward, his golden blade flashing as it caught the sunlight. Kyle followed, his spear whistling through the air, while Lilliane raised her wand, her lips moving quickly as mana surged around her.

From behind the dunes, shadows spilled forth. Dozens of figures cloaked in ragged black cloth, their eyes glowing faintly red beneath their hoods. The sand erupted under their boots as they rushed forward, chanting in harsh, guttural tones that carried across the barren landscape.

"Form up!" Aiden barked, lowering his stance.

The clash was instant.

Aiden’s blade carved through the first cultist in a blinding arc of light, golden sparks scattering with each strike. Kyle thrust his spear forward, piercing through two cultists at once before twisting his body and sweeping in a wide spin that knocked three more off their feet. The sound of steel clashing with steel, sand kicking up, and the guttural shouts of enemies filled the desert air.

"Flame Burst!" Lilliane cried, her wand glowing as she thrust it forward. A ball of fire roared from her staff, slamming into a cluster of cultists and detonating in a fiery explosion that sent smoke curling into the sky. The sand around them turned black, molten fragments sizzling as the cultists screamed and writhed.

But more kept coming. From the dunes, a wave of them emerged—dozens, then hundreds, their dark shapes blotting out the horizon like a living tide.

The injured students cried out as they were dragged back by the other two from Aiden’s team, scrambling behind Aiden’s group.

"Cover them!" Kyle shouted, planting his spear deep into the sand before pulling it free and sweeping in another deadly arc. Blood sprayed across the golden dunes, staining the sand red.

Lightning crackled in Lilliane’s palm as she switched elements, her wand glowing bright blue. "Thunder Strike!" she screamed, sending a jagged bolt down that split the air, frying a line of cultists in a blinding flash. Her breaths came ragged, sweat dripping down her temple as she staggered back, the strain of rapid casting weighing on her.

But still, the cultists advanced.

"A-Aiden!" Lilliane’s voice trembled as she raised her wand again, sparks of every element flickering chaotically at its tip. "There are too many—we won’t be able to deal with all of them!"

Kyle glanced at her, his jaw tight. "I agree. This isn’t normal... it feels endless."

Aiden grit his teeth, his golden sword humming as if answering his will. The sunlight itself seemed to gather along the blade, condensing into radiant arcs of energy. His gaze hardened as he pulled the sword back.

"Then we carve a path through!"

With a roar, he unleashed his technique.

"Radiant Slash!"

A sweeping arc of golden light erupted from his blade, cutting through the desert like a divine wave. Dozens of cultists were flung into the air, their bodies disintegrating into motes of black mist as the radiant energy tore through their ranks. The very dunes shook, sand scattering in a brilliant cascade of light.

The surviving students stared wide-eyed at the sight, hope flickering in their terrified expressions.

Aiden turned back to them, his chest heaving, sweat running down his jaw. His voice was firm, commanding—yet edged with urgency.

"Run. For now!"

Without hesitation, Kyle grabbed one of the wounded and hoisted him onto his back. Lilliane, panting heavily, cast a protective wind barrier to keep the sand from blinding them as they fled. The group dashed across the dunes, their footsteps sinking into the burning sands as the echoing cries of cultists chased them like a haunting storm.

Behind them, the desert roared with battle cries, the tide of cultists still surging forward—an endless nightmare under the unforgiving sun.

***

In the underground chamber,

An instructor clicked his tongue sharply, breaking the stillness. "Tch. Even they are being pushed back. Those damn cultists... it’s not just a camp—they’ve already conquered the dungeon beneath the sands. Their tunnels stretch everywhere. Whenever they sense movement nearby, groups pour out in waves like ants from a nest."

His words were bitter, laced with frustration as another screen showed a squad of students collapsing into disarray under a sudden ambush.

Another instructor shook his head slowly, arms folded tight across his chest. "I had more expectations from those ones. Talented bloodlines, promising records... and yet the moment the tide turned against them, panic set in."

The vice dean exhaled heavily, his expression grim but analytical. "They were simply unprepared. The cultists are far more organized than our students could have anticipated. If they had detected the ambush earlier—spread their senses, set up formation, anything—things would be different. But now..." He trailed off, gaze dropping.

The room fell quiet again, broken only by the echo of strained breathing and distant clashes resounding from the screens.

But in the center, the dean did not move. His weathered hands rested against the table as his eyes narrowed at a particular panel. He leaned slightly forward, his focus sharper than steel.

On that screen, amidst the chaos of blood and sand, a boy’s figure stood firm. Surrounded by companions, his stance radiated both resolve and restraint, every movement purposeful, every strike measured.

The dean’s lips parted, and he muttered under his breath, barely loud enough for the others to hear, "That brat... seems to have found himself a good team."

The faintest curve touched the corner of his mouth, not quite a smile, but close.

The other instructors glanced his way, puzzled by his reaction, but none dared to question. Instead, the room once again sank into silence, every gaze locked on the shifting desert battlefield, where their students fought not only against the cultists—but against their own untested fear.

***

[Some time ago, after Luca’s party landed]

The scorching desert winds whipped across the dunes, carrying grains of sand that stung the skin like needles. Luca and his team stood upon the stone outcrop a fair distance from the location they had been given, the air heavy with a strange, suffocating tension.

The Saintess stood a step forward, her white robes rustling softly against the dry wind. Her expression, usually serene and calm, had twisted into one of deep unease. Her brows knitted, lips tightening as if she were instinctively pushing something away.

"I... I am getting this unpleasant feeling," she whispered, her voice laced with discomfort. "I don’t know what, but something is wrong."

Selena, standing beside her, gave her a sidelong glance. Her amethyst eyes narrowed faintly, analyzing the Saintess’s sudden shift in demeanor. Eric tilted his head, scratching at his jaw as if puzzled, his usual composed air unsettled.

Even the massive figure of Big Bull seemed affected. His heavy shoulders tensed, nostrils flaring as though sniffing something foul in the air. His crude expression twisted into discomfort before he grunted, his deep voice rumbling:

"Big Bull... feeling bad."

Luca’s gaze lingered on the Saintess. Her unease wasn’t ordinary. He studied the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers clenched against the folds of her robe. His thoughts churned. She’s rejecting something instinctively.

As his eyes widened in realization, could it be... the divinity within her reacting?

In the next breath, his hand moved without hesitation. One saber slipped free of its sheath with a crisp metallic note.

With a swift, decisive motion, Luca slashed into the seemingly empty desert air beside them.

A wet sound followed—the sickening slice of blade through flesh. A snake-like demonic beast, its scales mottled black and gray, fell to the ground in two twitching halves. Its body writhed grotesquely before lying still, black vapor leaking from the gash. The acrid stench of corruption filled the air.

Everyone froze, their gazes snapping toward the cleaved creature. The Saintess’s lips parted in shock. Selena’s eyes narrowed dangerously, a sheen of frost gathering faintly in her palms. Eric exhaled slowly, his earlier puzzlement shifting to wariness. Big Bull’s jaw tightened, teeth grinding.

From the corpse, thick streams of black gas rose and dispersed into the air like smoke, hissing faintly as if alive.

Luca exhaled, steadying himself. His voice carried a weight that silenced the group, even over the desert winds.

"Corrupted mana..."