Chapter 208: Chapter 208 – Not Knowing the Full Situation!

The heat of the dune pressed against Luca’s back as he crouched low, his crimson eyes flicking between the Saintess and the maddened sea of cultists below. His grip on his saber tightened until his knuckles whitened. He turned to her sharply.

“Don’t you have any plan? You’re the one who brought us here.”

The Saintess, unbothered by his frustration, only tilted her head slightly, her silver eyes gleaming with a serene, almost smug confidence. Her lips curved into a soft smile.

“Of course I have a plan.”

Luca’s brows furrowed. “…Then?”

“We will just stay here as it is.”

The words landed like a stone in the sand. Both Luca and Eric stared at her, dumbfounded.

Eric blinked once, then twice, as though he’d misheard. Luca’s jaw clenched in disbelief.

The Saintess, however, only leaned lightly to the side, her robes catching the wind as her expression brightened. She turned to Eric. “Can’t you just drop an illusion over us? One subtle enough that nobody will detect us. I told you, this is the safest option.”

Eric exhaled through his nose, half a laugh, half resignation. He lifted his hand, and the faint shimmer of dream-butterfly stirred to life around him. Its gossamer wings glowed faintly in the corrupted air, scattering motes of pale light. With a gentle motion, the swarm spread and dissolved, weaving an unseen veil that wrapped over the four of them.

“There,” Eric muttered, his voice tired but steady. “As long as I hold this, we’re shadows in the sand.”

The Saintess’s lips curved higher, pleased, as her gaze slid back to Luca. “See? Isn’t it done?”

Luca stared into her silver eyes, his own narrowing with frustration. “And for how much time are we supposed to just stay like this?”

“Until Aiden and the others defeat all the cultists,” she replied smoothly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Then we can leave.”

Luca froze, then pressed a hand to his forehead with a groan. “…Are you serious?”

The Saintess blinked at him, unruffled. “What?”

“Didn’t you see? There are thousands here already. Do you realize how many more are on the battlefield? At least double—maybe more.” His voice rose, the anger burning hotter in his chest. “And you’re telling me they can kill all of them? That’s your plan?”

His teeth ground together as the thought seared through him. Did I… did I overestimate her?

But the Saintess only laughed softly, that mysterious smile never faltering. Her silver eyes glittered with a calm certainty that cut through the storm of his words.

“Do you think I’m that much of an idiot?”

Luca’s glare faltered, confusion breaking through his anger. “…What do you mean?”

“When those cultists realize that I’m not there—and that they’re dying for nothing—they’ll break.” She gestured toward the battlefield with a delicate flick of her wrist. “They’ll leave. They’ll search desperately, scatter in all directions, convinced I must be somewhere else.”

Her gaze sharpened, her lips curving in quiet triumph. “And they’ll never realize I’m here, in their base camp all along.”

Luca’s eyes widened, the weight of her words settling in. His chest rose and fell once, sharply. Hah… that… makes sense. Clever—more clever than I expected.

Still, unease twisted in his gut.

“…Let’s hope everything goes well,” he muttered, his voice low, his expression dark.

Unbeknownst to them..

***

The battlefield was chaos incarnate. Screams mingled with steel, blood soaked into the sand, and the night itself seemed to tremble under the clash of magic and steel. Students fought desperately in formations, blades flashing, spells erupting, yet for every cultist that fell, two more surged forward, crimson-eyed and fanatical.

At the very center of it all, Aiden’s party faced a nightmare.

A towering man draped in crimson robes strode through the carnage like a reaper from some ancient myth. His massive frame radiated an oppressive aura, spatial ripples warping around him with every step. A curved scythe gleamed in his hands, its edge trailing with faint distortions as though it cut through space itself.

Opposite him, another figure danced with serpentine grace—a lean, androgynous man, his delicate face twisted into a mocking smile. A long whip, shimmering with condensed spatial force, cracked through the air, tearing grooves into stone and earth alike.

Both were Spatial Expansion Stage. Both radiated power that eclipsed everything around them.

And they were both toying with Aiden’s group.

Aiden roared, clashing head-on with the scythe wielder. His sword rang against the massive curved blade, the sheer force shoving him back, feet digging trenches in the ground. Beside him, Lilliane flung spell after spell—arcs of lightning, blossoms of fire—but each strike was shredded by the spatial distortions before it could land.

“Dammit!” she gasped, sweat streaking down her dirt-stained face. “My mana can’t even reach him!”

“Stay close!” Aiden shouted, his muscles straining as he barely deflected another scythe swing. Sparks scattered into the night as the crimson-robed man leaned down, his voice low and chilling.

“Young cubs should not bare their fangs at wolves.”

With a single motion, he swept the scythe in a wide arc. Aiden’s blade caught it, but the impact hurled him off his feet. He crashed into the sand, blood spraying from his lips.

On the other side, Selena and Kyle fared no better. The whip cracked like thunder, snapping around Selena’s ice shield and shattering it in a single strike. She stumbled, her breath caught in her throat, frost clinging desperately to her trembling hands.

“Kyle!” she cried.

“I’m here!” Kyle intercepted the next strike, his spear spinning to catch the whip. For an instant, sparks danced as weapon met weapon—before the whip coiled around the shaft and yanked. Kyle was dragged forward like a ragdoll, the feminine man’s mocking laughter ringing out.

“Pathetic. So much noise… yet so little bite.”

The whip lashed again, carving through Kyle’s armor. He gritted his teeth, blood dripping from his side, but his eyes blazed with defiance. “We’re not… done yet!”

Selena forced mana into her veins, the cold around her condensing into jagged spears of ice. She launched them forward, her voice breaking with desperation. “Aiden! Lilliane! On three!”

Aiden staggered upright, wiping blood from his mouth, and raised his blade. Lilliane gathered her strength, sparks crackling wildly around her.

“One…!” Selena’s voice was hoarse.

The whip cracked again, knocking her backward before she could finish. Kyle lunged in her place, spear thrusting forward. “Two—!”

But the crimson-robed giant moved first. His scythe howled through the battlefield, tearing apart Aiden’s sword guard. The next moment—

“Three!”

The four clashed in a final desperate burst of coordination—Aiden’s blade, Lilliane’s lightning, Selena’s frost, Kyle’s spear. For a heartbeat, the battlefield lit with their combined power, a spark of hope piercing the overwhelming darkness.

And then—

BOOM!

Both enemies struck simultaneously. The scythe split the ground, shockwaves exploding outward, while the whip cracked like a thunderclap, shredding their formation apart. All four of them were hurled backward, crashing violently into the sand and stone.

Dust billowed. Blood stained the ground.

The battlefield went silent for a breath, then filled with horrified murmurs from the other students.

“They… they’re down?”

“No way… that was Aiden and the others!”

“Even if they can’t stand… What chance do we have?”

“Are we… going to die here?”

Fear spread like wildfire, the lines faltering as the students’ morale crumbled at the sight of their strongest being thrown to the ground.

The crimson-robed man rested his scythe against his shoulder, his eyes glowing faintly beneath his hood. “This… is the power you bring to oppose us? Children playing at war.”

The feminine man twirled his whip, smiling sweetly, almost tenderly, as his eyes scanned the broken bodies of Aiden’s group. “So fragile. So easily broken. And yet… so entertaining.”

The battlefield trembled as despair settled like a noose around every student’s throat.

***

Luca paced in tight circles, boots grinding against the packed sand, his hands pulling at his hair. His voice cracked in frustration.

“It’s already night now! And they’re not done. Something is wrong!”

The Saintess, who until then wore that same calm mask, finally showed a flicker of unease. A faint frown creased her perfect face, her silver eyes darting toward the dunes.

Before Luca could press her further, the sound of footsteps echoed faintly through the still desert air. All of them froze.

Two voices drifted closer, hushed yet disturbingly casual.

“Lord said he detected someone here? But no one is here… was he mistaken?”

The other let out a raspy laugh, voice dripping with perversion.

“Jiijieeij… anyone can be mistaken after going all day on that. Hahaha…”

A third chuckled, low and eager.

“They’re still going… I can’t wait for our turns!”

The Saintess stiffened beside Luca, her knuckles whitening as she gripped her robes. Luca felt bile rise in his throat again, his heartbeat hammering against his ribs.

A long shadow suddenly loomed over their hiding spot. The air grew taut, every muscle in Luca’s body screaming at him to move—

CRUNCH!

In an instant, before the cultists could so much as blink, their bodies were smashed into the sand. Bones shattered, flesh burst, and blood sprayed in wet arcs before soaking into the dunes. What was left of them was nothing more than formless meat paste.

The echo of the impact hung in the night air, followed by a deep, rumbling voice.

“Big Bull. Not like. Kill.”

Luca’s eyes went wide, horror flashing across his face.

“SHIT!”

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