Chapter 895 - Attack
Harin gritted his teeth, his breaths shallow, but his mind sharp.
No matter what happens, I must make sure they don't get to Emily… I must make sure they don't reach the guild.
The pain in his body dulled for a moment as his thoughts aligned. His vision flickered with the haze of exhaustion, but he forced himself to remain standing, to keep his focus on the enemy.
I will need to use that.
His right hand trembled as he clenched his fist, steadying himself. He had known this moment would come. From the moment Azure Crest Guild had been pulled into this war—no, from the moment they chose their side—he had known his life would be on the line.
The Hartley family had warned him.
Ray, the butler of that formidable household, had personally visited him weeks ago, standing in his office with that ever-composed, unreadable expression.
"Master Anderson, I will be blunt. The path you have chosen is one that will invite calamity. The demon contractors do not forgive, nor do they forget. The fact that you have been allowed to live this long is already a mercy."
Harin had laughed back then, his usual confidence barely shaken. "I don't need your pity, Mister Ray. Azure Crest has survived worse."
But Ray hadn't laughed. Instead, he had placed a small, ornate box on the table.
"Then take this. When the time comes, and it will come… Use it. No hesitation. No second thoughts."
Harin hadn't questioned it then. He had taken the artifact, knowing that the Hartley family wasn't the kind to offer empty words.
And now… now was the time.
Without hesitation, he reached into his spatial ring, fingers brushing against cold metal. He clenched it tightly, feeling the sheer weight of the power sealed within.
A deep pulse resonated the moment he pulled it free, the air around him distorting. The demon contractors stiffened, their unnatural grace faltering as they felt it—the presence of something beyond their comprehension.
The moment Harin's fingers curled around the cold metal, the air itself shuddered. A pulse rippled outward, warping the space around him, and the alley seemed to tremble—distorting, like the world itself was shifting away from reality.
The demon contractors reacted instantly.
"Stop him!" The red-eyed man snarled, his previous amusement gone, replaced with urgency. His body blurred, moving with unnatural speed, his coat of living shadows writhing violently as he surged forward.
The violet-eyed woman didn't hesitate either. Her fingers snapped into jagged claws, veins of darkness slithering across her skin as she lunged, her mouth parting slightly—revealing far too many needle-like teeth, as if she had discarded the need for human form altogether.
But it was too late.
Harin gritted his teeth and activated the artifact.
A sharp, violent force pulled at him from within. His body felt as though it had been seized by an invisible hand and wrenched through space. A deafening, high-pitched ringing filled his ears, his vision twisting into a blur of colors that should not exist.
It's working.
It was exactly as Ray had explained to him.
A checkpoint-style artifact.
A pinpoint marker—a landmark placed in space, tying a single point in existence to another. When activated, the artifact folded space itself, forcing reality to curve around the marked location.
A perfect escape.
But— it came with a price.
Harin felt his mana drain violently, yanked out of his very core like water pouring from a shattered flask. His muscles spasmed, his breath hitched. His already battered body screamed in protest, exhaustion setting in like an unbearable weight pressing down on his soul.
His vision blurred. The world became unstable.
His knees buckled, his body losing its sense of weight, the sensation of being pulled and twisted through the fabric of reality making his stomach churn.
And in that moment, just before he completely slipped away— rage burned through him.
'Philips family!'
His blood boiled.
So they had finally cast away their pretense? They were no longer even trying to hide their collaboration with these wretched demon contractors?
His guild—his family—had been massacred under their watch, while they stood behind the curtain, orchestrating it all.
What the hell was going on?
The last thing Harin saw before the world snapped away was the twisted, enraged expressions of the demon contractors as they reached out— just inches too late.
And then—
Everything went dark.
Harin's eyes fluttered open, his breath coming in shallow gasps. His body ached all over, pain coursing through his limbs like molten iron. His head throbbed, and for a moment, he felt as if he were still spinning, like reality hadn't fully settled around him.
The scent of wet stone and oil filled his nostrils, mixed with the lingering metallic tang of his own blood. His vision swam as he pushed himself up on trembling arms, his muscles screaming in protest. He stumbled forward, barely managing to stay upright, his boots scraping against the cracked pavement beneath him.
It took him a few seconds to fully grasp where he was.
The eastern side of Arcadia City.
Dim neon lights flickered against the damp walls of the narrow street, and in the distance, he could hear the hum of traffic and the occasional murmur of late-night pedestrians. This part of the city was quieter, mostly industrial and lined with aging warehouses—far from the chaos he had just escaped.
He was safe.
For now.
Ignoring the sharp pain in his ribs, Harin reached for his wrist, fumbling to activate his smartwatch. His fingers trembled from exhaustion, but he pressed through it, his mind sharper than his broken body. The smooth glass screen flickered to life, faintly illuminating his bloodstained fingers.
With practiced precision, he navigated the interface, his breath still unsteady. He tapped into his encrypted contacts and dialed a number.
The line clicked.
"—Pick up," he muttered, barely above a whisper. His throat felt raw, his body still weak, but the urgency remained.
Each ring felt like an eternity. His vision blurred for a second, but he forced himself to stay alert.
He had survived.
But this wasn't over.
******
Emily sat in her academy dorm room, staring at the dim glow of her desk lamp as the evening settled in. The new semester had begun, and academically, she was doing well. Her grades were solid, and she had been keeping up with her training. Yet, despite this surface-level progress, something felt incomplete.
There were things she lacked—things she had been too preoccupied to address before. One of them was her relationship with Ethan. She had wanted to grow closer to him, to spend more time with him, but between her responsibilities with the guild and the increasing conflicts around them, she never found the right moment.
And now… she wasn't even sure if she should.
Ethan always seemed surrounded by people—whether it was his friends or someone else. There was a subtle distance between them now, a gap she wasn't sure she had the right to close. Maybe it was always like this. Maybe she had just been imagining something more. She told herself it didn't bother her, but deep down, a part of her felt strangely… left behind.
She sighed, leaning back in her chair. It wasn't like she had the time to dwell on things like this anyway. The conflicts between guilds had only intensified over the past few weeks, and Azure Crest was taking more hits than ever. Rival guilds were pressuring them, the association was barely acknowledging their struggles, and resources were thinning again.
Everything was a fight.
Emily rubbed her temples, frustration gnawing at her. She had fought so hard to keep the guild afloat, to keep the people who stayed from losing faith. But it was exhausting. It was like standing in the ocean, pushing back an endless tide.
Her gaze drifted toward her sword resting against the wall. Was this how things were always going to be? Fighting, surviving, never really moving forward?
She exhaled and straightened her posture. No. That wasn't the way to think. If she let herself be weighed down now, everything they fought for would have been meaningless.
With a quiet resolve, she stood up and grabbed her coat. If the world wasn't going to give them space to breathe, then she would carve it out herself.
RING!
Just then she got a notification.
Chapter 896 - Attack (2)
RING!
Emily's smartwatch vibrated against her wrist, the sharp sound cutting through the silence of her room. At first, it was just a notification, but before she could even check it, another sound followed—her smartwatch ringing.
Her brows furrowed. A call? At this hour?
As she glanced at the screen, her breath caught. The name displayed sent a jolt through her chest.
Liora.
Her father's secretary. The one who handled all guild-related matters and urgent calls.
A sudden feeling of unease crept into her stomach as she swiped to accept the call. "Liora?"
The voice on the other end was frantic, distressed—nothing like the composed professionalism Liora always carried.
"Miss Emily! It's—it's bad! Your father, the Guildmaster, and Team 3—they were attacked!"
The world around Emily froze.
Her grip on the smartwatch tightened as her heart slammed against her ribs. "What…?" The word came out barely above a whisper.
"Guildmaster Anderson is alive, but barely! His injuries—Emily, his injuries are severe! The healers are doing everything they can, but it's bad. It's really bad."
Emily felt her knees weaken. The breath in her lungs vanished, replaced by a crushing pressure in her chest. Her father—strong, unshakable, the very foundation of Azure Crest—was barely holding on?
"No—no, wait, what happened? Who attacked them? How—" Her voice wavered, but she forced herself to ask.
"We don't know all the details yet," Liora said, her voice uneven. "It was an ambush. The attackers vanished before we could identify them. We just—we just need you to come. Now."
Emily didn't think. She didn't hesitate.
"I'm on my way."
The moment she ended the call, she was already grabbing her sword, shoving on her coat, her body moving before her mind even fully caught up. Her thoughts raced, her pulse thundered in her ears.
Father…
He was still alive. But for how long?
Emily practically threw herself out of her dorm, her legs moving on instinct. Her mind was still reeling, struggling to process Liora's words, but her body didn't wait for permission—it knew where she needed to be. Now. Immediately.
Her breathing was uneven as she rushed through the academy corridors, ignoring the curious glances from students she passed. She had no time to care. Her father—
A sharp pang of panic clenched at her chest, and for the first time in a long while, she felt like she was suffocating.
Her hands trembled as she reached for her smartwatch, forcing herself to focus. She needed to tell Ethan. He needed to know.
Even though she had been trying to handle things on her own, even though she didn't want to rely on him too much—this time, she couldn't.
She felt like she could collapse at any moment, and that feeling was... strange.
Emily pressed Ethan's contact, her fingers feeling clumsy despite the urgency. The dial tone rang, and for the first time, she found herself praying he would pick up immediately.
"Come on, Ethan… Pick up," she muttered under her breath, her heart pounding violently against her ribs.
The moment the call connected, she heard his voice—steady, familiar, and grounding.
"Emily? What's wrong?" His tone shifted the instant he heard her shallow breaths, the tension in his voice clear.
She swallowed, trying to steady herself, but it was impossible. Nothing about this situation was steady.
"It's my father," she said, her voice barely holding together. "He—he was attacked. He's in critical condition."
There was a moment of silence on the other end. A silence that stretched just enough for Emily to feel the weight of it.
"I'm coming," Ethan said immediately, his voice firm, no hesitation whatsoever.
And somehow, just hearing that made the panic in her chest ease—just a little.
*******
A dull throbbing filled Harin's head as his senses slowly returned. His body ached, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him like an anchor. Every muscle burned, and his ribs felt as though they had been torn apart and put back together with shaking hands.
The world spun when he tried to move, forcing him to inhale sharply and stay still. A crisp, sterile scent filled his nostrils—disinfectant, clean linen, the faint metallic tang of medicine. It took him a moment to process where he was.
A hospital.
He exhaled, his breath shaky but steadier than before. The last thing he remembered was calling Liora, his assistant, after dragging himself out of that wretched alley in Arcadia City. Everything after that was a haze, his body likely succumbing to fatigue and blood loss the moment he knew he was safe.
"Guild Master!"
The urgent voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
He turned his head, his vision still slightly blurred, but he recognized the woman standing beside his bed immediately. Liora. Her usually composed face was tight with worry, her eyes scanning his injuries as if assessing whether he was truly awake.
Harin tried to speak, but his throat was dry. He swallowed, wincing at the soreness. "I made it…" His voice was hoarse, weaker than he would have liked, but Liora's expression softened just slightly at the confirmation that he was aware.
"You're finally awake," she said, exhaling in relief. "You lost a lot of blood. The healers did what they could, but you need to rest."
Harin let out a humorless chuckle. "Rest… Not exactly a luxury we have right now, is it?"
Liora frowned, but she didn't argue. She knew better than anyone how relentless he could be, even when he was on the verge of collapse.
Instead, she adjusted the covers over him, her expression shifting slightly as she hesitated before speaking again. "I called Miss Emily," she finally said. "She's on the way."
Harin's chest tightened at those words.
Emily.
For a moment, exhaustion took a backseat to the weight of guilt pressing against his ribs. He had tried so hard to keep her out of this war, out of the mess that had swallowed the Azure Crest Guild whole. Yet, here she was—about to walk into it anyway.
He clenched his jaw. "You shouldn't have—"
"She deserved to know," Liora cut in, her voice firm but not unkind. "She's not a child anymore, Guild Master."
Harin sighed, sinking deeper into the hospital bed. She was right.
And soon, his daughter would arrive.
There was no stopping what would come next.
The doors to the hospital room swung open with a quiet hiss, and Emily stepped inside, her breath shallow, her pulse erratic.
"Father!"
She rushed forward, but at the last moment, forced herself to slow down. Don't act rashly. He was injured—severely. She couldn't let her emotions cloud her judgment.
Her eyes landed on him, and for a moment, she couldn't breathe.
Harin Anderson, the Guildmaster of Azure Crest, lay before her, covered in bandages and bruises, his complexion unnervingly pale against the stark white of the hospital sheets.
Behind her, Ethan followed closely, his hazel eyes dark with concern as he observed the scene. He didn't speak immediately, letting Emily have her moment.
Harin, despite his weakened state, managed a small smirk at the sight of his daughter. His sharp gaze flickered to Ethan before he let out a rough chuckle.
"Mister Ethan," Harin greeted, his voice hoarse but carrying its usual weight.
Ethan nodded respectfully, stepping forward. "No need to push yourself, Guild Master Harin," he said, his voice steady yet laced with worry.
"Aha… I appreciate that," Harin murmured, exhaling through his nose as if trying to suppress the discomfort radiating from his injuries. "But I've always been the stubborn type, haven't I?"
Emily clenched her fists at his words, taking in the sheer exhaustion in his voice. The father she knew never showed weakness, never let anyone see his struggles. Yet here he was—barely holding himself together.
And she wasn't going to sit back and do nothing.
She took a deep breath, pushing aside the burning emotions threatening to overwhelm her. First, understand. Then, act.
Her gaze sharpened.
"Tell me everything."
Chapter 897- Attack (3)
"Tell me everything."
Harin sighed, adjusting himself slightly against the pillows. Pain flared up in his ribs, but he pushed through it, his mind far too occupied with what needed to be said. His daughter stood before him, her gaze sharp, burning with unspoken anger and worry. Ethan remained nearby, quiet but attentive, his presence steady as always.
Harin exhaled slowly. There was no point in sugarcoating the truth.
"I took Team 3 to a dungeon that required caution," he began, his voice low but firm. "As you know, Team 1 and Team 2 were already occupied with high-tier expeditions. They were handling more dangerous territories, leaving only Team 3 available at the time."
Emily's brow furrowed as she listened. She already knew where this was going, and it only made the tension in her chest tighten further.
"The problem was," Harin continued, "Team 3's strength alone wasn't enough. The dungeon's readings were fluctuating. I had concerns about potential distortions, so rather than risk sending them in alone, I decided to join them."
Emily's fingers curled into fists, her nails digging into her palm. The air between them grew heavier.
"Father," she said, her voice trembling with controlled frustration. "You knew that you needed to stay safe!"
Harin met her gaze, his expression unreadable.
"With everything that's been happening lately, the enemy is getting bolder," she pressed on, her voice rising. "The attacks are becoming more frequent, and now the enemy families are stepping in directly. How could you risk yourself like that?"
Ethan, sensing the rising emotions, glanced between the two of them but didn't interrupt. This was a conversation Emily needed to have with her father.
Harin sighed, his fingers curling slightly against the hospital sheets. He knew Emily's frustration, knew exactly why she was angry. She had every right to be. But what else could he have done?
"I know it was risky," he admitted, his voice quieter but unwavering. "But I couldn't just sit there while my guild members were putting their lives on the line. I'm their guild master, Emily. If I start treating myself as more important than the rest of them, then what kind of leader am I?"
Emily's jaw clenched, but she said nothing, waiting for him to continue.
"Besides," he exhaled, shaking his head slightly. "If I didn't go, the dungeon's rights wouldn't have stayed with our guild. You know how it works—if we can't clear a dungeon within the designated time, the association allows other guilds to bid for its rights." He looked up at her, his expression grim. "Do you think our enemies would have let that pass? There's a high chance they were just waiting for us to fail so they could take it."
Emily's grip tightened at her sides, her shoulders rising with tension. "And now what? You almost lost your life," she snapped, her voice sharper than before.
Harin fell silent for a moment before nodding. "You're right," he admitted. "It was a bait."
Emily stiffened, a sharp breath escaping her.
"The dungeon's sudden appearance, the fluctuating readings… and the fact that no one challenged us for the rights at this week's bid. I should have suspected something," Harin continued, his voice carrying a heavy weight of realization. "It was too convenient. Too easy." His fingers curled into a fist on the bed, frustration flickering across his face. "And I walked right into it."
A heavy silence followed.
Then, slowly, Harin lowered his head, the weight of his exhaustion finally showing.
Emily opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, a hand landed gently on her shoulder.
Ethan.
His grip was firm, grounding. When she turned to look at him, his hazel eyes met hers with quiet understanding.
"Right now is not the time," he said softly.
Emily hesitated. Her anger hadn't faded, the frustration still burned inside her—but Ethan was right. This wasn't the time to argue, to pick apart every mistake. Her father was alive. He was safe, for now. That was what mattered most at this moment.
She exhaled slowly, nodding. "You're right."
Her gaze shifted back to her father. There would be time to deal with the rest later. But for now, she needed to be here. With him.
Emily took a steadying breath, forcing herself to push past the lingering frustration. There were more important matters to discuss now. Her father had survived, but she needed to understand how things had played out. The ambush, the sheer scale of it—it wasn't something she could just let go.
She pulled up a chair beside the bed, her expression hardening with determination. "Tell me exactly how it happened," she said. "How did they ambush you? The dungeon was supposed to have barriers in place. There should have been a limit to how many Hunters could enter. How did they bypass that?"
Harin leaned back against the pillows, exhaling heavily. "They knew what they were doing," he said, his voice carrying the weight of exhaustion and regret. "The dungeon's natural restrictions should have kept excess combatants out. But when we were inside, I noticed something was off. The dungeon's flow was... unstable. At first, I thought it was just the distortion we were worried about, but then the numbers didn't match."
Emily frowned. "Numbers?"
Harin nodded. "At first, everything seemed normal—until we reached the third sector of the dungeon. The number of enemies inside was less than expected, almost as if they had already been culled before we got there. That's when I realized... we weren't alone. Someone had entered before us—without triggering the association's restrictions."
Ethan, who had been listening quietly, crossed his arms. "That shouldn't be possible," he said, his voice laced with skepticism. "Even high-ranking Hunters have to follow the dungeon's natural entry limits. If they bypassed it without detection, that means they had some way of interfering with the dungeon's very structure."
Harin nodded grimly. "Exactly. And that wasn't the worst of it."
Emily narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean?"
Harin's fingers curled slightly over the blanket. "They weren't just inside the dungeon. They were waiting for us outside, too."
Emily's breath hitched. The realization settled into her like ice. "You mean—there was an ambush on both ends?"
Harin gave a slow nod. "The moment we started retreating, the exit was already compromised. It was a coordinated effort. We were boxed in from the start. It was never about the dungeon—it was about eliminating us."
Ethan's brow furrowed. "Then how did you manage to get out?"
Harin hesitated for a moment before he spoke. "I tried to use the artifact Butler Ray gave me," he admitted. "It should have activated immediately—but something was intercepting it."
Ethan's expression darkened at that. "Intercepting it?"
"Yes," Harin said, his voice edged with frustration. "The artifact should have folded space around me instantly, just like it did later, but in that moment... nothing happened. Someone—something—was interfering with it. I had to fight just to get a chance to activate it properly."
Emily clenched her fists. "Whoever they are, they knew exactly what they were doing," she muttered. "They knew about the artifact, about the dungeon's security... They planned this down to the smallest detail."
Harin sighed, rubbing his temple. "And their forces were overwhelming. The number of demonic humans among them was higher than anything I've seen before."
Emily's breath caught. "How many?"
Harin's expression was grim. "At least three peak rank-8 demonic humans. And that's just what I saw. They tore through the team instantly."
Emily's nails dug into her palm.
Three peak rank-8 demonic humans. That wasn't just a simple strike force—that was an execution squad.
Her father should not have survived that.
The sheer scale of this ambush, the level of coordination, the kind of enemies they were facing—it was beyond what she had imagined.
And suddenly, she felt something far worse than anger.
Fear.
Chapter 898 - Attack (4)
Emily's breath hitched, her throat tightening as the full weight of what her father had just said sank in. Her fingers twitched slightly, a rare crack in her composure.
"Th-three rank-8 demonic humans…?" she whispered, barely able to get the words out.
That level of force was astonishing. Overkill. A direct declaration of extermination.
What the hell?
Were they really that determined to erase Azure Crest?
She swallowed, her mind racing. If they were a high-ranking guild—if they had the same presence as one of the elite associations—maybe, maybe this level of aggression would make sense. If this was Team 1 or Team 2, the strongest forces of Azure Crest, she could understand them being a prime target.
But Team 3?
Her father?
The enemy had spared nothing.
Either they were desperate to wipe Azure Crest from existence… or they had this much manpower to spare.
She didn't know which possibility was worse.
Her breath came faster now, her grip tightening around the edge of the hospital bed as she turned toward Ethan, seeking something—some kind of grounding reassurance.
But when her eyes landed on him, her stomach clenched.
His expression didn't look good.
There was no sharp-witted remark, no calm words to defuse the situation. Instead, his brows were drawn together, his hazel eyes dark with contemplation, as if something in what Harin had said deeply troubled him.
Thinking.
His silence unnerved her more than anything else.
"Ethan…?" she murmured, barely audible.
Ethan turned his head toward them, his gaze flickering between Emily and her father.
To be frank, even though he had been in this industry for a long time, he still didn't know exactly how things worked. The ranking system, the parameters—he understood them in theory, but they had never truly mattered to him.
Why?
Because he was a Hartley.
His family owned one of the highest-ranking guilds in the entire continent. The sheer scale of their resources, their manpower, their elite hunters—it made rank-8 demonic humans feel… insignificant.
Hartley's enforcers alone had hundreds of rank-8 operatives under them.
If they needed to, they could mobilize twenty, fifty—hell, even a hundred rank-8 hunters without blinking.
So for him, this level of force wasn't impressive. It wasn't unheard of.
And yet—
Something was bugging him.
His fingers tapped against his arm, thoughts whirring.
It wasn't the number of enemies that unsettled him.
It was the context.
Azure Crest wasn't an elite guild. They had strong fighters, sure—but they weren't supposed to warrant this level of hostility. Three rank-8 demonic humans wasn't just a warning. It was a message.
And that was what felt off.
Ethan's hazel eyes sharpened as he studied Harin.
Ethan's instincts twisted in his gut, a slow, gnawing sensation that told him this wasn't just about Azure Crest.
This was bigger.
His mind churned through the details, piecing things together like a puzzle he didn't have all the pieces for yet. The Hartley family had been supporting Azure Crest for years. It was a well-known fact. Even though Azure Crest wasn't an elite guild, their connection to Hartley should have been enough to keep them from being targeted like this.
And yet, the enemy didn't seem to care.
That was what felt wrong.
If they were willing to send three rank-8s despite knowing Azure Crest had Hartley's backing, then…
Yeah.
The scale of the conflict was about to change.
Ethan exhaled, his gaze flickering between Emily and Harin once more. He could feel it now. That subtle, creeping sensation that something much larger was shifting beneath the surface.
This doesn't feel like a guild conflict anymore.
It feels like the start of something.
His fingers twitched, muscles tensing ever so slightly. If the enemy had already committed this much firepower to Azure Crest, then what else had they brought?
Had they already sent more forces into the capital?
The thought sent a sharp pulse of urgency through his chest—
And then his smartwatch vibrated.
BZZT.
His gaze flicked down, and his stomach dropped the moment he saw the name flashing on the screen.
[Marc Hartley]
His father.
Ethan answered immediately. "Yeah?"
His father's voice came through—sharp, not as steady as usual.
"Where are you right now?"
Ethan hesitated, his grip tightening on his watch. "…Azure Crest."
A pause. Then—
"What the hell are you doing there?"
His father's tone wasn't calm. It wasn't the usual composed, unshaken voice he always carried.
No.
There was strain.
And that? That wasn't normal.
Ethan's grip on his smartwatch tightened as he listened to his father's tone. Marc Hartley was not the kind of man to be rattled. He was calculated, always in control, his presence steady like an immovable wall. Yet right now, there was an edge to his voice—something sharp and pressing.
Ethan exhaled, keeping his voice steady as he answered. "Azure Crest was attacked. Emily called me—her father barely made it out alive. Three rank-8 demonic humans ambushed them in a dungeon. It was a complete massacre. Team 3 was wiped out, and Harin Anderson barely survived. I came here after hearing about it."
There was silence on the other end.
Then, Marc's voice came through, sharper now. "They got attacked? Explain briefly."
Ethan didn't waste time. "The dungeon was a setup. Someone bypassed its natural restrictions, allowing enemy forces to infiltrate. When Team 3 tried to retreat, another group was already waiting outside. They had no way out. The moment the fight started, it was clear—the enemy wasn't there to scare them off. They were there to eliminate them. Three rank-8 demonic humans executed the entire team. Harin only survived because of the artifact Butler Ray gave him, but even that was tampered with at first."
Marc was quiet for a moment. Then, a faint sound—a slow exhale.
Ethan could picture it perfectly. His father sitting in his office, fingers steepled, his mind already working through the implications.
Then, Marc spoke again. "I see."
There was something in his tone. A shift.
Ethan frowned slightly. "What?"
A silence stretched between them.
Then, Marc let out a slow sigh. "You're not wrong to check on your friend," he admitted, his tone steadying slightly. "But this is not the time."
Ethan frowned. "What's going on?"
A pause.
Then, Marc spoke with finality. "A driver will come to pick you up soon. You will return to the Academy, and you will not leave for the time being."
Ethan sat up straighter, his posture rigid. That wasn't a request. That was an order.
He narrowed his eyes. "What the hell is going on?"
Marc exhaled through the speaker. Then, his voice dropped lower, quieter—but no less intense.
"They've crossed the line."
Ethan's heart pounded once, hard, before his father continued.
"Twelve of our dungeons were attacked today."
The words landed like a hammer to the chest.
Ethan's fingers twitched slightly against his arm. Twelve dungeons. Not one. Not two. Twelve. That wasn't an isolated incident. That wasn't random.
That was a declaration of war.
And then—his father's next words sent a chill down his spine.
"We lost Marin, Royce, and Valencia."
Ethan's breath caught. His entire body tensed.
Three names.
Three executives of the Hartley Guild.
Not just strong hunters. Not just elite members.
Executives.
Marin Kont. Royce Grant. Valencia Marlowe.
All three of them were high-ranking figures within the Hartley Guild, overseeing massive operations, strategists and warriors alike. They weren't just strong. They were necessary.
And they were gone.
Ethan's fingers curled into a fist.
This wasn't just an attack anymore.
This was an execution.
A purge.
Marc's voice came through again, firm and commanding. "Ethan. Go back to the Academy. Stay there. Do not get involved."
Ethan exhaled sharply, his pulse hammering against his skull. He closed his eyes for a moment, grounding himself.
Twelve dungeons attacked. Three executives dead.
The scale of this wasn't just about Azure Crest.
Something much bigger was moving.
And for the first time in a long while, Ethan wasn't sure what the hell they were dealing with anymore.
Chapter 898 - Attack (5)
Ethan stared at the screen of his smartwatch for a moment, the call ending with a cold finality. His father's words still rang in his head—twelve dungeons attacked, three executives dead.
A purge.
That was the only way to describe it.
He exhaled slowly before looking up at Emily. She was already watching him, her expression tense, waiting. He could see the worry in her eyes, the unspoken question lingering on her lips.
"What happened?" she asked, her voice steady despite the tension in her shoulders.
Ethan ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tightening. "It's worse than I thought." His voice was lower now, restrained. "Azure Crest wasn't the only one attacked today. My family's dungeons—twelve of them were hit."
Emily's eyes widened. She sucked in a sharp breath. "Twelve?"
He gave a slow nod. "And we lost Marin Kont, Royce Grant, and Valencia Marlowe. They were executives of our guild."
The room fell into silence.
Emily's fingers clenched at her sides. "Three executives…?" Her voice barely registered above a whisper.
Ethan nodded, his expression unreadable. "Yeah. That's why my father is calling me back to the Academy. He doesn't want me getting involved."
For the first time, Emily couldn't even argue. If the enemy was bold enough to take out high-ranking members of the Hartley Guild, then the scale of this conflict wasn't something she could fully grasp yet.
After a moment, Ethan turned his attention toward Harin, who had been listening quietly, his sharp gaze focused on Ethan.
"Mister Harin," Ethan said, his voice firm but not unkind. "From now on, things will only get more dangerous. If you wish to step back, you don't have to stay in this fight. I'll make sure that every member of Azure Crest is paid properly. If they choose to leave, they'll have the means to do so."
Emily stiffened. "Ethan, you don't have to—"
"I do." Ethan cut her off, his hazel eyes unwavering. "I pulled your guild into this war, Emily. My family backed you when you were struggling, and that means I have a responsibility. But that doesn't mean you have to stay in this mess. If your father, or anyone else in the guild, wants out, I'll make sure they have a way to walk away."
Silence stretched across the room.
Then, Harin let out a low chuckle.
It wasn't amused.
It was the kind of laugh a veteran gave when hearing something naïve.
He leaned forward slightly, despite the pain in his ribs, his tired eyes locking onto Ethan's with an intensity that hadn't dulled despite his injuries.
"Boy," Harin said, his voice rough but unwavering, "do you think I've stayed in this fight because I had to?"
Ethan's brows furrowed slightly, but he let Harin continue.
"This guild was on the brink of collapse long before your family got involved." Harin's voice was steady now, carrying the weight of years of struggle. "If you hadn't joined that expedition team back then—while I was injured—Azure Crest would've been erased."
Harin exhaled, his gaze distant for a moment, as if recalling the past. "It was when you joined that expedition team that things started changing," he said. "I was still recovering, but I heard the reports. The way you handled the situation, the way you fought alongside our people—it wasn't just some noble's son playing hero. You saw their worth. You saw their struggle."
Ethan remained quiet, his expression unreadable, but he remembered it clearly.
At the time, he had joined on a whim—or at least that's what he told himself. He wanted to prove something. Wanted to step out from under his family's influence and do something with his own hands. He had no title, no bodyguards, no weight of the Hartley name hanging over him.
Just him.
And it had been real.
The expedition had been rough, brutal even, but he had seen the guild's hunters pushing forward, refusing to let go of their dignity despite their lack of resources. He had watched the way they fought—not just for themselves, but for the people next to them. And that was when it clicked.
Azure Crest wasn't just surviving.
They were fighting to stay alive.
And Ethan had made a decision that day.
He wasn't just going to watch.
So he invested.
Not through his family's resources, not through the guild's typical channels—he did it from his own private funds. He didn't want this to be another Hartley Guild extension. He wanted it to be his decision, his responsibility.
Emily crossed her arms, nodding slightly. "From the moment that [that guy] betrayed us, the guild started declining," she admitted. Her expression darkened at the mention of him, but she pushed past it. "We barely held on. People left, resources were cut, and no one wanted to take the risk of associating with us anymore."
She looked at Ethan.
"But then you stepped in."
Harin chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "You gave us the lifeline we needed, Ethan. Even if we were just another part of some bigger plan for you back then, you still gave us a chance."
Ethan's gaze flickered for a moment. "It wasn't some bigger plan," he muttered, leaning back in his chair. "I just… wanted to see if I could do something without my family."
Emily gave a small smile at that. "Well, you did. And look at where we are now."
But even as she said it, a thought lingered in her mind.
Ethan wasn't the only one who had invested in them.
Somewhere along the way, another mysterious investor had bought into Azure Crest's stocks, quietly supporting them from the shadows. It wasn't Ethan, and it wasn't any of their known allies.
Even now, she still didn't know who they were.
But whoever they were, they had placed their bets on Azure Crest just like Ethan had.
And if this war was truly beginning, Emily had a feeling she would find out soon enough.
Harin let out a slow breath, his decision unwavering. "In any case, I'm not stepping out of this," he said firmly. "This is my guild. These are my people. And Emily—" His gaze softened as he looked at his daughter. "She's all I have left."
Emily's lips parted slightly, but she said nothing, her fingers curling at her sides.
Harin shifted against the bed, his body still aching, but his voice remained strong. "Of course, I'll ask the others. If anyone wants to leave, I won't stop them. I'll make sure they have enough to get away and start over." He exhaled, his expression darkening slightly. "But honestly? I doubt they'll be safe outside."
Ethan's fingers tapped against his arm, his brows furrowing. He didn't want to admit it, but Harin had a point.
If the capital—the most heavily guarded city—was already being infiltrated like this, then what about places without the same level of protection?
What about the smaller settlements, the scattered guilds in less fortified regions?
The thought made his stomach coil.
Ethan exhaled, shaking his head slightly. "I can't argue with that," he admitted. "Nowhere is really safe anymore."
Harin nodded. "Then I'm staying here. This is my guild, and we're not running." His voice lowered. "Besides, if I left, then what was the point of surviving in the first place?"
Emily closed her eyes briefly, inhaling before looking back at her father. She wasn't going anywhere either. This was her home.
Ethan studied them both before finally smiling—a small, genuine curve of his lips. "Then I'll do my best," he said. "For all of you."
A quiet understanding settled between them.
Then—
A faint honk outside.
Ethan glanced toward the window before pulling himself up. "That is the ride."
Ethan turned back to Emily, his expression shifting to something more serious. "Come with me to the Academy," he said. It wasn't a suggestion—it was a genuine request.
Emily blinked, caught off guard by his sudden words. "What?"
"You heard me." Ethan's gaze was steady. "You should come back with me. It's safer there."
Emily's brows furrowed as she squared her shoulders. "No. I'm staying here."
Ethan expected that response, but he still let out a frustrated sigh. "Emily, listen—"
"I am listening," she cut in, her voice firm. "And my answer is the same. My father is here. The guild is here. I won't leave them behind."
Before Ethan could argue further, another voice interjected.
"You should go back."
Emily turned sharply to look at her father, disbelief flashing across her face. "What?"
Harin met her gaze with unwavering resolve. "Ethan's right," he said. "It's not safe here, Emily. Not anymore."
Emily's hands clenched into fists. "And you expect me to just run?"
"This isn't running. This is surviving," Harin countered. "Azure Crest still has a future—but only if someone lives to carry it forward. I need you safe, Emily. And that means being somewhere the enemy can't reach you so easily."
Emily shook her head. "No. I can't just leave you here—"
"You think I don't want you here?" Harin's voice lowered, but there was a deep, unshakable weight to it. "You're my daughter, Emily. You're all I have left. But that's exactly why you need to go. The Academy is protected."
Ethan, seeing the moment of hesitation in Emily's expression, pressed forward. "Harin's right. If you stay, you'll be a target. And if something happens to both of you—" He exhaled sharply. "I don't even want to think about it."
Emily's jaw tightened, her emotions warring inside her. She didn't want to leave. She hated the idea of running while others stayed behind to fight. But she also knew her father wasn't speaking out of fear. He was speaking as a leader.
And a father.
Her fingers trembled slightly before she finally spoke. "…And what about you?"
"I'll survive," Harin said, offering her a small, reassuring smile. "I always have."
Ethan crossed his arms. "So? Are you coming or not?"
Emily took a deep breath. Then another.
And finally, she nodded.
"…Fine."
But the moment she did, an uneasy feeling settled in her chest.
Because despite what they were saying—she had a sinking feeling that nowhere was truly safe anymore.
Chapter 900 - InfernoKnight
The hours blurred together.
What had started as a simple introduction to the game had turned into something completely different.
Irina sat there, gripping her controller, her amber eyes locked on the screen. Her expression was somewhere between awe, suspicion, and mild existential crisis.
Because this?
This didn't make any sense.
Four hours.
Four straight hours of matches.
And somehow—somehow—Astron was getting better at an unnatural rate.
At first, it had been fine. Expected, even. The game was new to him, but with her as his duo partner, they had an inherent advantage. Early on, their opponents were mostly other beginners, and since Irina had been playing for a while, she could easily carry their matches.
That was normal. That was expected.
But this?
Irina watched, utterly dumbfounded, as Astron effortlessly landed another perfect combo, chaining his abilities together with a precision that shouldn't have been possible for someone who had just picked up the game.
'No way. There is no way.'
The enemy champion barely had a second to react before Astron read their movement and countered it on instinct. He sidestepped their skill shot at the last possible moment, repositioned with flawless timing, and then—
BAM.
Another kill.
Another perfectly calculated, utterly clinical execution.
The announcer's voice boomed across the screen.
"Double Kill!"
Irina's mouth opened. No words came out.
'What is this?'
She had been watching him closely throughout these matches, and the more she did, the more disturbed she became.
Astron wasn't just "getting better."
He was learning at an exponential rate.
At first, he had relied on pure observation—watching her, analyzing how she played, adapting to the mechanics. Then he started implementing things himself—small optimizations, faster reactions.
Now?
Now he was making plays that required deep understanding of the game's systems. Stuff that even experienced players needed time to learn.
Irina gaped as Astron instantly recognized when an enemy jungler was about to gank their lane, despite never seeing that champion before. He simply adjusted his positioning, predicted their approach, and dodged everything with effortless ease.
He was reading the game like a damn textbook.
'No, no, no, no, no—this isn't normal.'
Irina had played games with plenty of skilled people before. She had played against smurfs—veteran players using new accounts to stomp beginners. She had seen prodigies, fast learners, strategic geniuses.
But this wasn't fast learning.
This was absurd.
This was unsettling.
Irina found herself focusing less on the match and more on the player sitting next to her.
Astron's sharp purple eyes remained locked on the screen, unwavering. His posture was relaxed, his grip on the controller steady. His expression remained calm, utterly unreadable, but Irina could see it—
That focus.
That cold, calculating precision.
That terrifying efficiency.
She swallowed hard, fingers tightening around her controller.
And the worst part?
He was still catching up.
Even though she had started as the clear carry, the one leading every match, Astron was getting dangerously close to matching her pace.
She won games because she had experience.
Astron won games because he understood them on a fundamental level.
And at this rate—
—he was going to surpass her.
Irina felt a chill run down her spine.
She refused.
She absolutely refused.
'Hell. No.'
With a deep inhale, she sharpened her focus.
Irina tightened her grip on the controller, her competitive instincts roaring to life. She refused to be left behind, but at the same time…
She kind of liked this.
Even though there was that little pang of jealousy, seeing him improve so fast, there was also something satisfying about it.
If he was getting better—if he actually enjoyed playing—then maybe… maybe this could be something they did together.
Yeah. That's all this was.
Definitely nothing else.
She stole a quick glance at him from the corner of her eye.
They had been playing for nearly four hours now, and Astron had settled in. His posture had become more relaxed, his usual stiff composure giving way to something almost natural. He was leaning into the couch, his t-shirt slightly curled at the edges from the way he shifted against the cushions.
And somehow—his scent had started to blend into her space.
Irina inhaled, barely realizing she had done so.
It was subtle. Clean. Familiar.
A mix of something sharp, like steel, yet faintly warm, like the air after a summer storm. It wasn't intrusive, but it was there, weaving itself into her dorm as if it belonged.
She frowned slightly at the thought.
The last time they traveled together, it had been like this too. Being near him, sharing a space, existing in the same quiet bubble. But somehow, this felt different.
Because this wasn't a train cabin or a shared mission.
This was her dorm.
Her personal space. The place she spent most of her time alone. And yet, with him here, it didn't feel disrupted.
It felt…
She clicked her tongue and quickly turned her eyes back to the screen.
Nope. Not going there.
Instead, she exhaled sharply and focused back on the game.
"Alright, InfernoKnight," she muttered, adjusting her seat. "You're improving fast, but don't think I'm going to let you pass me that easily."
Astron, still calmly leaning into the couch, simply hummed. "I wouldn't expect you to."
Irina shot him a quick glare, but he didn't even look at her.
That smug bastard.
She wasn't sure what irritated her more—the fact that he was catching up to her this fast, or the fact that she didn't mind spending all this time with him.
As soon as the queue popped, Irina exhaled sharply and stretched her fingers. "Alright, let's see what you're picking this time."
Astron scrolled through his newly unlocked champions and, after a brief pause, selected one.
Irina squinted at the screen, processing the choice.
Then her eye twitched.
"Oh. You picked [Dravon]?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"
Astron nodded. "Why?"
Irina rubbed her temple. "That character is… not that easy."
Astron glanced at the champion's ability list, reading it over. "Really?"
"Yeah… And that character…" she hesitated, debating whether or not to warn him.
Astron looked at her expectantly. "Has a?"
Irina sighed. "Has a bit of a reputation, let's say."
Astron's fingers stilled slightly over the controller. "Why?"
She leaned forward, propping her chin on her hand. "The players who main Dravon are kind of toxic."
Astron blinked, unbothered. "How so?"
Irina clicked her tongue. "Well, first off, the champion's kit is just high risk, high reward. You throw two axes, and you have to catch them after every attack to maintain your damage."
Astron hummed as he scrolled through the character's abilities, his sharp gaze calculating every detail.
"And on top of that," Irina continued, "you get extra gold for kills. Meaning you have to last hit perfectly to get ahead, or you fall behind hard."
Astron nodded, processing the information. "So, the champion rewards precision."
"That's one way to put it," she muttered. "But the real problem? If you screw up even once, you're basically useless."
Astron remained quiet for a moment. Then, after a brief pause, he locked in the champion anyway.
Irina blinked.
She pointed at the screen. "Wait, wait, wait. You're actually going to play it?"
Astron adjusted his grip on the controller. "Yes."
Irina groaned, running a hand through her hair. "Of course you are."
A part of her wanted to stop him—to tell him to pick something easier, something less likely to make him break his brain.
But at the same time…
She was curious.
Astron had been learning fast. Faster than she had ever seen before. And Dravon was a champion that demanded perfect execution.
Could he actually pull it off?
She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "Alright, fine. You want to play the hard mode carry? Be my guest."
Astron glanced at her, his expression unreadable. "I'll manage."
Irina scoffed, crossing her arms. "We'll see about that, InfernoKnight."
Chapter 901 - InfernoKnight (2)
The game loaded in, and Irina stretched her fingers, preparing herself for what was to come.
If Astron was going to play Dravon, then she needed a champion that could set up fights properly for him.
So, she had picked Ironjaw, a hook-based support who could initiate battles by dragging enemies toward them.
She hadn't played much of this champion before—usually, she preferred enchanters or peel-based supports—but from what she had heard, hook supports were the best match for Dravon.
It wasn't her comfort pick, but she was sure she could manage.
They headed to bot lane, settling into their positions.
Astron's Dravon threw out his first axe.
The spinning weapon arched forward, hit a minion, and then bounced into the air.
Astron moved to catch it—
And missed.
The axe clattered to the ground, vanishing.
Irina smirked, suppressing a laugh. "Tough, huh?"
Astron narrowed his eyes slightly, already adjusting. "The angle changes depending on my movement."
"Yep. You throw, you catch, and as long as the axes are spinning, your damage is insane. But if you drop them, you lose pressure."
Astron tested it again.
This time, he caught the axe.
Then he threw another.
Caught it.
Another.
Caught it.
Irina's smirk faltered.
'Wait. No way. Already?'
His movements became smoother, his champion weaving between minions, grabbing each axe at just the right moment to keep his damage flowing.
Irina narrowed her eyes slightly.
Dravon was one of the hardest carries to master because his power relied on movement control. Most players took hours, even days to get used to the rhythm.
But Astron?
He had figured it out in minutes.
"Alright, InfernoKnight," she muttered.
She spotted an opening.
One of the enemy laners stepped forward carelessly.
Her instincts kicked in.
She pressed the hook skill—
And it landed.
"Go!" she shouted.
Astron reacted instantly, stepping forward—
And missed both axes.
The enemy barely took damage.
Irina clicked her tongue. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Hook fights are different."
Astron adjusted his position slightly, his champion still moving forward. "Explain."
"When I land a hook, you don't have time to reset your axes properly. You're still supposed to move to hit the enemy, but you also need to stop at the right moment to catch the next axe."
Astron remained silent for a few moments, his eyes scanning the abilities on the screen as he processed everything.
Then, almost as if speaking to himself, he muttered, "This W skill resets… Does it reset each time I catch the axe?"
Irina blinked, her fingers hovering over the controller.
"…Uh."
She shrugged. "I dunno."
Astron turned his head slightly toward her, as if waiting for an explanation.
Irina coughed. "I don't play this champion much, alright? I barely see it in my matches."
That part was true.
And the reason?
She always banned it in ranked.
Ever since Julia told her to.
"If you see Dravon, ban him. Trust me."
That had been Julia's advice ages ago, and Irina had never questioned it.
The champion was annoying. The players who used it were even worse. And the one time she had let it through, she had been absolutely obliterated.
She had no interest in dealing with that nonsense again.
So yeah. She had zero idea how this champion actually worked.
Astron, meanwhile, was already reading the ability description.
His sharp purple eyes skimmed through the text, and after a few seconds, he nodded to himself.
"I see," he murmured. "So, my W resets when I catch the axe… And it gives movement speed to reach the enemy."
Irina narrowed her eyes at the screen.
"That's a thing?"
Astron hummed. "It's quite a consistent design. Not bad."
Irina clicked her tongue, leaning back slightly.
She hated how quickly he understood these things.
But at the same time…
She was curious.
Would he actually be able to master it mid-game?
There was only one way to find out.
"Alright," she muttered, cracking her fingers. "Let's see if you can actually use it properly."
As the match progressed, Astron gradually adjusted to the champion's mechanics.
At first, he was slightly slower, not moving as smoothly as he had with the other ranged carries he had played before. The playstyle was just… different.
Unlike his previous champions, where he could just auto-attack continuously and let the damage flow naturally, Dravon required constant adjustments.
The axe-catching mechanic forced him to move strategically, making him position himself more aggressively while keeping an eye on where the spinning axes would land.
And on top of that—
His attack speed was lower.
Astron narrowed his eyes, taking mental notes.
'This champion does not attack as consistently as the others I've played so far. However…'
The moment he chained his abilities properly—the damage skyrocketed.
His W ability reset every time he caught an axe, giving him extra movement speed, allowing him to keep chasing down targets.
His passive granted him extra gold whenever he secured a kill, making him snowball harder than the other carries he had played.
Irina, watching from the side, could see him figuring it out mid-game.
At first, he played too safely, trying to trade like he would with other ranged carries.
Then, when he realized his damage was frontloaded instead of consistent, he started timing his engages differently.
And when Irina hooked an enemy, Astron's instinct was still to kite backwards instead of going all in—but with this champion it was reverse, and he finally recognized that he needed to step forward, catch the axes, and chase with W.
Irina smirked.
He was getting the hang of it.
Faster than expected, of course.
Astron let out a small exhale, adjusting his grip on the controller as he secured another kill. The moment the enemy champion collapsed, the screen lit up with a dramatic kill announcement, and his character let out a deep, victorious laugh, twirling the axes in hand.
"HUAAAH!"
Astron blinked, taking in the moment. "This kind of feels nice," he muttered.
Irina glanced at him, arching an eyebrow. "What does?"
"This," he gestured vaguely at the screen. "The enemy deaths, the announcer's voice, the character's lines after each kill… It has a satisfying rhythm. The reward loop is well-designed. The dopamine hit is… effective."
Irina snorted, shaking her head. "Hah! So it's finally getting to you, huh? That's gaming addiction, my friend. Welcome to the club."
Astron didn't respond immediately, dodging a stray enemy skill shot as he snatched his next axe mid-air.
"I can see why people enjoy this," he admitted.
Irina smirked, nodding. "Yeah, Dravon's got some of the coolest animations in the game. He looks badass when he's winning. The problem is, playing against him is miserable."
Astron hummed in agreement, catching another axe before slamming down his ultimate ability, cutting through another enemy. The moment he landed the killing blow, his champion let out another loud, triumphant laugh.
"Dravon does not follow orders. Dravon gives orders!"
Astron blinked at the screen, then glanced at Irina. "This character is dramatic."
She groaned. "Oh, you have no idea."
But just as she said that—
The game took a turn.
Somehow, after snowballing early, everything descended into a chaotic mess.
Astron and Irina started getting caught in bad fights.
Their teammates weren't helping much either—running into fights at the worst times, splitting up across the map, getting picked off one by one.
The clean, calculated play from before?
Gone.
Now?
It was a full-on fiesta.
And to make matters worse—
The enemy team was chatting.
"LOL NICE THROW"
"CARRY DIFF GG"
"SUPPORT CAN'T LAND HOOKS XD"
Irina's eye twitched.
"Oh, hell no."
Chapter 902 - InfernoKnight (3)
Irina slammed her hands on her lap, gripping the controller tightly as she respawned. "Oh, hell no. These guys? Daring to talk?!"
Astron glanced at the chat, reading the messages without a shred of emotion. "They seem… chatty."
Irina seethed, her amber eyes narrowing at the enemy team's smug texts.
"LOL NICE THROW"
"CARRY DIFF GG"
"SUPPORT CAN'T LAND HOOKS XD"
Her eye twitched violently.
"They couldn't even step up in lane!" she growled. "They were stuck under turret the entire time, and now they wanna talk?! LOOK AT THAT GUY!"
She pinged the enemy carry, whose pathetic last-hitting was on full display.
"He can't even farm minions! What the hell is he talking for?!"
Astron remained quiet, dodging an enemy skill shot as he repositioned on the map.
Irina's rage meter continued to skyrocket.
"I hate this. I HATE when people all-chat like this. I WILL NOT LET THESE BASTARDS WIN."
Astron sighed lightly, keeping his eyes on the game. "It's just a game. Why bother?"
Irina's head snapped toward him so fast she almost dislocated something.
"No." She pointed at the screen, her jaw clenched. "I will make these guys lose."
Astron looked at her, studying her face.
She was angry.
No, furious.
Her teeth were clenched, her fingers tight on the controller, her entire body tense with competitive fury.
And then—
She started typing.
[InfernoQueen]: Wow. You talk a lot for a guy who had 0 lane control.
[InfernoQueen]: Hope you're enjoying that free turret gold we gave you, because that's all you're getting.
The enemy team immediately responded.
[Enemy Carry]: ??? XDD ur just mad
[Enemy Carry]: Support diff tbh
Irina's face twisted with pure rage.
"You wanna keep talking, huh?! FINE." She furiously typed back, her entire focus shifting from the game to the chat war.
But then—
Another message popped up.
[InfernoKnight]: Why are you talking when you're getting diffed by me? You're also losing to a new player. Maybe you should reconsider what to invest your time in. This is clearly not for you.
Irina stared at the message.
Then, she slowly turned to Astron, eyes wide in disbelief.
"Did… did you just flame him?" she whispered, almost impressed.
Astron remained focused on the game, his movements precise, smoothly catching each axe. "I'm just stating the truth."
Irina grinned. "Oh, I like this side of you."
The enemy carry instantly typed back.
[Enemy Carry]: now what? Are you defending your girlfriend? You guys are e-daters or something?
Irina let out a short, sharp laugh. "Oh, here we go. Classic."
She expected Astron to ignore it, or maybe respond with something dismissive—something logical, like "irrelevant" or "focus on the game."
Instead—
Another message popped up.
[InfernoKnight]: Yes. What if I am defending my girlfriend? Does that make you grow your CS number? Or are you jealous that I have a girlfriend I can duo with?
Irina choked.
She almost threw her controller.
Astron, however, looked completely unaffected.
Like he hadn't just casually dropped the most shameless message possible.
Irina's face burned. "You—! WHAT WAS THAT?!"
Astron finally glanced at her, his expression unreadable. "I thought you wanted them to shut up?"
"YEAH, BUT—!" Irina stammered, gripping her controller as if it was the only thing keeping her from losing her mind.
The chat blew up.
[Enemy Carry]: XD! i would rather play with a child than play with an e-girl.
[InfernoKnight]: That kind of looks suspicious when you type it like that.
Irina gasped.
"Oh my god."
Astron just keeps going.
The enemy carry stopped responding, but another message popped up from the enemy top laner.
[Enemy Top]: wrgfnawegeargaer I see it now KEKW
Irina burst out laughing despite herself. "You just made him look like an idiot in front of his own team!"
Astron hummed, unbothered. "I only pointed out the truth."
Irina wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, grinning wildly. "I swear, I am getting you into ranked after this. I need this energy in my games."
But before they could type anything else—
The game shifted.
A red marker flashed on the map.
Count Kisher—the game's biggest neutral objective—had spawned, again.
Irina gritted her teeth, staring at the minimap with pure, unfiltered rage.
"WHY IS OUR JUNGLE STILL ON BLUE? THE COUNT SPAWNED!"
Astron remained calm, glancing at the map. "He does that a lot. Maybe he is distracted?"
"Distracted?! THIS IS THE THIRD TIME IT'S SPAWNED!"
This game had gone way too long.
Most matches ended well before this point, but somehow, this cursed game refused to end.
Every single time Count Kisher spawned, something went wrong. Either their team wasn't positioned properly, or the enemy team caught them off guard, or some dumb mistake cost them the fight.
It was a mess.
But at least their top laner wasn't a complete idiot.
Their team finally grouped, and as expected, the fight broke out.
Count Kisher, the massive neutral boss, had already knocked several enemies down to half health, setting up an opportunity for a turnaround fight.
Irina clenched her jaw. "Alright, this is our chance. Engage when I hook."
Astron nodded. "Understood."
The moment Irina landed her hook, their top laner jumped in, unleashing his full combo, sending the enemy team into chaos.
Dravon's axes spun through the air, catching every opening he could.
The fight was messy, the health bars dropping dangerously fast.
Irina fought hard, throwing out every crowd control ability she had—until suddenly, she was hit by an enemy burst combo.
Her screen grayed out.
"Damn it! I'm down!"
Their top laner followed right after, falling to the enemy's last attack.
The fight was down to one person.
Astron.
Irina's heart pounded as she watched.
They had killed two enemies, but three still remained.
And Astron?
He was completely alone.
The enemy mid laner, top laner, and support turned toward him, realizing that he was the last threat standing.
But in their tunnel vision—
They forgot about one thing.
The Count.
Just as the enemy top laner charged forward, his blade glowing with power, ready to unleash a devastating final blow on Astron—
A massive, earth-shaking impact erupted beneath him.
Count Kisher's special attack landed right at that moment, launching the enemy top laner into the air, interrupting his skill.
Irina's eyes widened.
'Holy—'
That one second was all Astron needed.
His axes spun, his W reset, and he stepped forward.
The enemy mid laner cast his Q-E combo, the burst projectile flying straight toward him.
But at the last second, Astron dodged.
A smooth, perfect side-step, just barely avoiding the lethal ability.
And then—
His final axe flew through the air, catching all three remaining enemies.
Triple kill.
But it wasn't over.
The enemy support barely survived, escaping with a sliver of health.
Astron's health was also nearly gone.
The enemy support rushed to finish him off, launching one last desperate spell—
And at the very last moment, Astron threw his final axe before his own health dropped.
The screen froze for a second.
A delay.
Then—
SHUT DOWN!
Irina gasped.
Astron's champion dropped.
But then…the last enemy also collapsed.
ACED!
But before the respawn timers could even matter—
Their minions crushed the enemy base.
Victory.
The entire screen lit up with golden text.
"WE WON!"
The moment the victory screen flashed, Irina's entire body moved on instinct.
With zero hesitation, she lunged toward Astron and tackled him onto the couch.
"WE TAUGHT THESE BASTARDS A LESSON!"
Astron let out a slight oof as she crashed into his side, her arms practically wrapped around him in an excited, triumphant grip.
Her heart was racing, adrenaline pumping through her veins as she laughed breathlessly against his shoulder.
It had been so long since she had felt something like this.
Like, who would've thought?!
Who would've guessed that watching her duo make a clutch play in real time at the end of a game felt this damn good?!
Now she understood.
Now she finally got why people still played this dogwater game, despite how rage-inducing it was.
It was because of moments like this.
It was because of the sheer euphoria of a last-second victory, because of the thrill of a clutch play, because of that feeling when you and your duo just outplayed the entire enemy team.
Irina let out a shaky, exhilarated laugh, still clutching onto him.
"AHANAHA! You killed them all!"
Astron, who had been knocked back into the couch from her tackle, remained still for a moment, processing her reaction.
Then, slowly, Irina lifted her head.
And she froze.
He was smiling.
Not his usual small twitch of the lips.
Not a faint, almost imperceptible smirk.
A real smile.
And his eyes—those sharp purple eyes that were always so unreadable—
They were smiling too.
"Yeah," Astron murmured, his voice quieter than before.
"That was close."