CHAPTER 146: 146. AMERICAN BREATHING?

It didn’t take long before I spotted them.

Vaylin’s squad.

A group of four, lined up like they owned the battlefield. Not exactly subtle, but hey—confidence has a way of dragging idiots into the spotlight.

They weren’t carrying any obvious weapons, which was the first red flag. Most players liked to flex—big swords, fancy staves, glowing hammers—something. These four? Dressed in sleek leather armor that looked more like it came from a fashion boutique than a battle sim.

Mage types? Probably.

I gently lowered Kaelira from my back. My shoulder wound had closed up nicely, and with each passing second, I could feel mana flowing through me again. Sharp. Clean. Ready.

Then I locked eyes with Vaylin.

Tall guy. Deep green hair, sapphire eyes, a jawline so chiseled it could slice butter—if butter was a war crime. From a purely male perspective, I had to admit: he was ridiculously attractive.

His teammates looked like clones from a ’bad boy rogue squad’ catalog. Lean builds, smug faces, leather armor strapped just tight enough to suggest menace but loose enough for style points. I could practically smell the ego from here.

Kaelira, meanwhile, was absolutely vibrating with restrained rage. Her whole body was coiled like a spring, but her expression stayed cold. Masked.

I made a mental note: She’s going to go feral. Probably should get the hell out of her way when that happens.

Still, we had a plan to make.

I turned my head slightly toward her, voice low. "Hey, Kael. I’ll jump the three goons. You take Vaylin. You can handle that, right?"

She didn’t even blink. Just gave me a curt nod, eyes locked on Vaylin. Twin daggers flicked into her hands like extensions of her wrath.

Good.

Meanwhile, I called on my mana. Focused it. Let it flow into my arm like ink spreading through water. The familiar shape of my amethyst longsword shimmered into existence. It pulsed with raw force—more refined than before, almost like it had grown with me.

I readied myself. Legs braced. Sword humming.

But then—

They reached into their coats.

And pulled out—

Glocks.

Like, actual fucking firearms. Real world shit. One had an AK slung over his back like he just walked out of a cartel raid. Another one was dual-wielding pistols like he thought he was in an action movie.

I blinked.

’WTF. American breathing technique?!’

For a second, I thought I was hallucinating. But no. They really had guns. Real bullets. Real danger.

My brain screamed at me to question it. My instincts screamed louder—to move.

So I did.

I kicked off the ground with a burst of mana and blurred forward, my blade arcing through the air in a purple streak. I aimed for their guns—slash first, ask questions later.

They dodged. Like pros.

But they didn’t see the trap. My threads had already coiled around them, forming a subtle net while I attacked. The moment they moved to reposition—ZAP.

The threads lashed out and electrocuted them mid-dodge. Mana-lightning surged through their bodies. They convulsed, fell like ragdolls.

They hit the dirt hard, twitching and panting, eyes wide like they’d seen the Grim Reaper in fishnets.

I crouched down to their level, letting my sword rest lazily against my shoulder.

"You know..." I said conversationally, "you guys are kinda trash."

They blinked at me in confusion, their nerves still frying.

"Like, seriously. You’ve got guns. Actual cheat code-tier weapons. And you still lost to a sword guy. A sword made of light. You should just uninstall. Go die in a ditch or something. No offense. Actually Fuck that, full offence."

They didn’t need to.

Because death came for them anyway.

Kaelira.

Her daggers danced through the air with elegance and savagery in equal measure. She moved like flowing silk—silent, deliberate. And then—slice.

One. Two. Three. Four.

Their throats opened like red smiles before they could even scream. They dropped, lifeless.

I blinked. Still crouched.

"Uh... damn. That was fast," I muttered. "They didn’t even have time to feel the pain."

Kaelira wiped her blades on her thigh and sheathed them in one clean motion. Her voice was cold and quiet. "I don’t regret it. I did it for myself. I don’t need to torture them. I just wanted revenge."

She turned away.

I stood up, raising a finger like a teacher about to give a lecture. "That’s the problem, Kael. This is a consciousness-based simulation. You’re supposed to mentally break your enemies. You can’t get real revenge without a little creative torment. You disappoint me. Honestly."

She chuckled. An unfiltered, dark chuckle that echoed across the silent battlefield.

"Disappointing you must be a blessing. I’m flattered."

I narrowed my eyes at her retreating back. "Bitch."

She turned her head slightly. "Bastard."

A grin tugged at my lips.

She grinned too.

Behind Kaelira’s grin, something shifted.

It was subtle—just a flicker of motion behind her. But my instincts flared like a damn siren.

I moved without thinking.

My hand shot up, intercepting the object flying straight toward her skull. A sharp clang echoed as my fingers gripped the shaft of a spear—solid, simple, and deadly. Not magical. No glow. No enchantments. Just raw, sharpened steel hurled at a ridiculous speed.

Kaelira immediately ducked behind the nearest corpse, twin daggers glinting as she crouched low, using the bodies like makeshift shields. A smart move. She’d already seen what kind of lunacy this battle offered.

I stared at the spear for a beat longer, then let it drop with a metallic thud.

I didn’t need to guess who threw it.

Because he was already here.

He stood tall at the far end of the clearing, wreathed in black and crimson armor. The faint glint of gold shimmered from his right hand—his signature weapon, the golden spear. Ornate, jagged at the edges, and humming faintly like it was hungry.

Orion.

He smirked when our eyes met, confident, cocky, absolutely in his element. "Looks like you’ve got sharp reflexes," he said, voice smooth and smug. "Or should I say... instincts?"

I tilted my head, mirroring his smirk. "Call it instincts. That’s what I’m best at."

He twirled his spear once, then pointed it at my face with theatrical flair. "Good. Let’s end it quickly this time."

"Gladly."

His eyes sharpened, muscles coiling like a spring.

Then he roared, "[Fourth Style — Pulse]!"

The ground answered him with violence.

Cracks spiderwebbed across the earth as glowing white spears began launching from below like geysers of death. They aimed for me with surgical precision, the light blinding, the speed overwhelming.

"Kaelira! Don’t intervene!" I shouted, kicking off the ground to evade. "Either get somewhere safe or go hunt the leftovers. This is my fight."

Orion chuckled darkly. "There’s no one left, my friend. Just us now. But I agree—let her watch. This is a duel. A man’s battle. One-on-one."

Kaelira, instead of arguing, gave him a strange look—half intrigued, half surprised—but nodded. She backed away, giving us space. The dead were scattered across the ground like trophies. The entire battlefield was silent now, save for the hum of our mana and the tremors beneath our feet.

The jagged white spears kept rising.

But this time?

I wasn’t just dodging.

My threads—thin, nearly invisible strands of mana—snaked across the ground, coiling like serpents. The moment a spear launched upward, I wrapped it with mana and twisted it mid-air, redirecting it—back toward Orion.

He blinked in surprise as his own weapons came flying back at him.

"Oh?" I taunted, weaving the redirected spears into a barrage. "So now you’re supplying me with ammo too?"

He clicked his tongue, clearly irritated. With a burst of movement, he sidestepped and launched his real attack.

The golden spear whistled through the air again—thrown with such force it split the wind. But this time it wasn’t just the spear.

He followed behind it.

By the time I deflected the projectile, he was already in my face, his armored boot aimed at my torso.

I twisted my body, letting his foot slide past me, then swung my arm forward. "[Indigo Bloom]!"

Mana rippled outward in a wide arc, slicing horizontally across the space between us. The air shimmered purple and blue, then fractured as the arc splintered into a cascade of petal-like patterns.

One of the petal trails struck true.

His forward momentum stopped—suddenly, jarringly.

From his right eye socket, something strange happened.

A flower bloomed.

An indigo blossom erupted, opening in slow motion as he staggered back, half-blind and confused. The magic didn’t hurt him—not directly—but it disoriented, distorted, blinded.

That was enough.

I closed the distance and slashed down with my longsword—straight for his exposed arm.

CLANG!

Sparks flew as my sword collided with his armor. I didn’t get the clean cut I wanted, but the impact left a dent. That meant the defense wasn’t absolute. It could be cracked.

And then came phase two.

The blooming flower on his eye socket—detonated.

BOOM!

It exploded into a burst of violet smoke and sound, the shockwave staggering him. But it wasn’t done. The petals from the flower didn’t vanish into the air—they solidified. Turned into jagged, glowing shards.

And then—

They moved.

Homing petals.

They curved in the air, targeting him from all directions, moving like sentient darts.

"Shit—!" he hissed, raising his spear in defense, swiping them away one by one. He managed to destroy some, but others cut through his side, piercing gaps in his armor, making him bleed.

"Not bad!" he barked, face flushed, grinning through pain. "You’ve improved. I like that!"

I grinned right back, amethyst blade glowing brighter. "That’s the thing about instincts, Orion. They get sharper every time you push them."

He panted, blood dripping from his side, then slowly spun his spear in his hand, the golden weapon singing with tension.

"This is more fun than I thought," he said.

I lowered into my stance again.

"Good," I replied, cracking my neck. "The feeling is very mutual."