CHAPTER 145: 145. ORION OR ONION

I flicked the sword to the side, casting off sparks of excess mana before drawing it back into a ready stance. My fingers curled, and the ambient mana responded—twisting with flickers of amethyst like dancing flame.

Opposite me, the spear guy reset his posture too. His shoulders squared, spear lowered slightly, the tip gleaming with crackling energy. His aura surged, tangible now, like a storm compressed into human form.

And then—

We moved.

CLANG!

The impact echoed like a thunderclap across the field.

Sparks erupted where our weapons met. Mine technically wasn’t a "real" blade—just mana condensed into form—but it had weight, momentum, and intent. That was enough.

What made it worse for him? His spear was a natural conductor. So the moment our weapons connected, the amethyst lightning in my blade surged across the shaft, rippling into his arms.

A jolt.

He grunted and staggered back two steps, clicking his tongue in irritation. "You’re annoying, you know that?"

I tilted my head, smug grin already stretching. "Yeah. People keep telling me that. I treat it like a compliment now. So... thanks, I guess."

He rolled his eyes. "Smartass."

Then, he spun his spear with a flick of his wrist, shifting his stance once more. This time the tip of the spear pointed squarely at me, but his mana was gathering from the ground, not the weapon.

His eyes narrowed.

"[Fourth Style – Pulse]!"

The name was misleading.

The attack didn’t explode from his weapon—it erupted from beneath my feet.

The ground shook, a low hum building beneath me, vibrating through my bones before cracking wide.

Spiderweb fractures tore across the field.

And then—blinding white light.

Dozens of ethereal spears exploded from the fractures, jagged and humming with force, racing toward the exact spot I was standing.

WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH!

I leapt back—then again—and again. But the damn things kept spawning in a barrage, trailing me like heat-seeking missiles, punishing any hesitation. I couldn’t stand still for even a breath.

The brightness stung my eyes, forcing me to blink rapidly.

"Annoying...!" I muttered, twisting midair to avoid another that shot up inches from my feet.

And that’s when I made a mistake.

Not a huge one.

But enough.

He hurled his spear.

I didn’t see it coming. Not clearly. The blinding flashes masked it too well.

It cut through the chaos like a damn railgun.

SHUNK!

Right through my left shoulder.

I hit the ground hard.

Breath caught in my throat as pain exploded through my body. A white-hot lance of agony radiated from the wound, nerves screaming in betrayal. My arm instantly went limp, my sword flickering as my control slipped.

The damn thing had pierced clean through.

My blood sprayed out in thick splashes, staining the cracked earth. The spear remained embedded, pinning me partially to the ground. I tried to move—my body didn’t respond.

And worse—

The white spears didn’t stop.

They were still coming, still erupting from the ground, following their cursed trajectory.

One more second and—

WHOOSH—

I moved.

No, I was moved.

The world blurred for a heartbeat, then snapped into clarity.

Wind slapped my face. Vision shook. The pain stayed, but the threat was gone.

And I realized—

I was being carried.

My good arm twisted up instinctively, and I saw her.

Kaelira.

Her forehead was soaked in sweat, face twisted in both effort and frustration. Her breathing was ragged, but her grip didn’t falter. Even as her legs trembled, she carried me away from the hellzone, weaving through the chaos.

She didn’t speak.

Didn’t complain.

Even though the toll on her was clear—mental strain, maybe even physical backlash. Her eyes were losing focus, her steps getting messier. She’d clearly burned through her abilities to get to me.

And still...

She didn’t stop.

Eventually, after gaining what she probably deemed a "safe" distance—well, as safe as the edge of a deathmatch map could be—she slammed me onto the ground like a sack of potatoes.

I hit the dirt with a grunt, dust kicking up around me as the pain in my shoulder flared again. "ARGH! Kael! What the fuck?! If you’re going to rescue someone, maybe don’t slam them down like a corpse!"

She dropped beside me, plopping down unceremoniously. She was panting heavily now, her cheeks flushed from exertion.

"Shut up. You’re heavy," she muttered, barely able to lift her own arms anymore.

I stared at her from my position on the ground, still wincing from the gaping hole in my shoulder. "I’m a grown-ass man, of course I’m heavy!"

"Yeah, yeah."

Despite everything, I couldn’t help but chuckle.

"Thanks," I said, quieter this time. "Seriously. I would’ve been turned into confetti if you hadn’t shown up."

She turned her head slightly toward me, still catching her breath. "You owe me."

"I’ll put it on your tab," I smirked.

"Fuck your tab," she snapped, but the corner of her lips quirked up. "We still got twenty players left out there."

I nodded grimly. "And one of them still has my shoulder as a souvenir."

The pain was starting to dull a bit now—not from healing, but probably from my body going into shock. I’d have to pull the spear out soon, or else I’d be at risk of mana rejection or blood drain.

"Hey, Kael!" I called out, voice casual but strained.

She gave me a side glance from where she sat catching her breath. "What?"

I pointed down at the very obvious spear embedded in my shoulder. "Care to rip this bad boy out? I’m sure you’ll enjoy watching me wince in pain. So go ahead, don’t hold back."

Her lips curled into a smirk. Not even a denial. Of course she wouldn’t deny it—because it was true. Sadistic little shit.

Without saying anything, she pushed herself off the ground, casually dusted off her skirt like we weren’t in the middle of a goddamn digital warzone, and walked over to me. Her hands wrapped around the shaft of the spear with practiced ease. And then—

YANK!

She pulled it out in one smooth, brutal motion.

I didn’t scream, obviously. I’m not that weak. But I definitely felt the pain claw its way through my bones. Like fire laced with barbed wire. I clenched my teeth, jaw tight, and forced myself to keep a neutral expression. No way I was giving her the satisfaction.

She looked down at me, a flicker of disappointment on her face that I hadn’t cried out. But then her gaze fell on the gaping hole in my shoulder, and the smirk faded.

Her eyes softened. Subtle, but it was there.

From her inventory, she pulled out a small medkit. Probably low-grade emergency supplies, maybe with limited uses. She knelt beside me, her hands glowing faintly as she reached out.

But I stopped her.

I shook my head. "Nope. Thanks, but don’t waste it. This is all just consciousness stuff, right? We feel the pain, but these bodies aren’t real. No point in wasting precious healing items."

She paused. Studied me for a moment. Then gave a small nod. "Fair. Logical, cold, and just a little masochistic."

She put the medkit back in her inventory, then sat down beside me again. The silence lingered between us, not awkward, but heavy with unspoken understanding.

Finally, her voice came, softer than usual. "What’s the plan now? You clearly can’t defeat the spear guy—Orion, that’s his name by the way. We can’t win. So... second place? That’s fine, right?"

I turned my head to her, narrowed eyes, one eyebrow raised like she just insulted my entire bloodline. "Who said I can’t defeat that guy?"

She blinked.

I smirked, leaning back with mock confidence oozing out of my bleeding shoulder. "Next time we fight, I’m mauling him. Orion or Onion, doesn’t matter. He got lucky, I got distracted by the lightshow and paid the price. But I’m a natural predator in battle, Kael. I’ll adapt. I’ll evolve. I’ll rip him apart like a bored cat with a cardboard box."

She gave me the look.

You know the one. Half amused, half ’you’re insane’.

"Sure, tiger," she said, shaking her head.

"But," I added, shifting slightly to glance across the open field, "Orion isn’t the real issue. It’s Vaylin. He’s our target, what’s he doing by the way."

She nodded this time. Her tone turned serious. "He and his squad are on the move. Other side of the plain. After you and Orion wiped out like sixty people, the remaining ones were left scattered and panicked. Vaylin and his crew started culling them. One by one."

I raised an eyebrow. "Efficient."

My gaze dropped to my shoulder. The wound was already beginning to close. It was slow—painfully so. In ten minutes, I’d be good as new.

I exhaled, then pushed myself up from the ground.

The moment I stood, I extended my hand to Kaelira. "Alright. Time to keep moving. I need time to finish healing, and I can’t risk getting into another brawl until then. So we stay out of combat, relocate, and keep mobile. Come on—I’ll carry you."

She looked up, brows furrowed. "You’re the one with a hole in your body. You sure you don’t need to be the one getting carried?"

I tilted my head, deadpan. "Kael, physical pain has no correlation to capability here. You know that. This isn’t a real body. Don’t act dumb."

Her eyes narrowed. "I was being considerate, you bastard."

I grinned. "Then consider this your reward. Free piggyback ride. One time only."

She groaned but took my hand anyway, letting me pull her to her feet.

Then, without ceremony, I dropped down to one knee and motioned with a flick of my fingers. "Hop on."

"You’re enjoying this too much," she muttered, but moved behind me regardless. After adjusting her grip and wrapping her arms around my neck, she jumped onto my back.

She was surprisingly light.

"Hold tight," I muttered, rising to my feet again with her on my back.

She scoffed. "If you drop me, I’m stabbing your good shoulder."

"I believe you," I said, chuckling as I started jogging forward at a slow but steady pace.

The ground beneath us was grassy and lifelike— soooo true to its name, the "Death Plain." From the distance, distant sounds of clashing steel and magic rumbles echoed faintly.

I kept moving. Slowly shifting our position, one cautious step at a time.

My eyes scanned everything. Every movement. Every glint.