Super.Dawg
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Chapter 165
🕑 Added 2025-11-14 10:12:01 +0000 UTC“Looks like I made it in time,” Kana whispered, her breath fogging against the windowpane.
Below her, the streets churned with motion—empire guards in uniform, their boots clattering against the cobblestone. She could hear their shouts echoing up the narrow street.
“Find the girl! Red eyes—she can’t have gone far!”
Her stomach twisted. Her hunch was right. They were close and searching for her. The twins must have some sort of authority to allow this kind of widespread searching for her.
Then came the knock. A sound not the kind made by inn staff. Red eyes like her after all were not so common. Kana was a bit expecting this but surprised how fast it was.
She was planning to save the [Teleportation scroll]—try first to run outside the empire city then wait outside to see if the twins would still hunt her then use the [Teleportation scroll]. If not and if she lost them then she would take her time to go back.
Kana didn’t hesitate. Her fingers were already pulling the parchment free.
“[Teleportation Scroll],” she said softly.
Light blossomed at her feet—thin lines curving into a perfect circle. The air shimmered, her vision fractured like glass, and then—
She was
Silence.
She landed hard on damp earth. The night here was colder, the smell of salt and soil filling her lungs.
Kana laughed once, breathless. “As expected.”
“There must be some tricks at using that scroll. Balt, the smiling man seemed able to modify the location.” Kana muttered to herself.
The [Teleportation Scroll] had sent her back to the same place as before—the wooded rise near the Saltrain Village. There had to be conditions to that—rules for how the scroll stored its destination. And a way to change it. She’d figure it out, eventually.
The distant glow of the village lights flickered between the trees. Kana’s chest tightened. She could have gone down there, rested a night, maybe found a warm meal. But no—she couldn’t drag danger to them. Not now.
So she turned away from the village and started running. The cold wind bit at her cheeks, her boots crunching over the frost-laced grass.
Hours passed before she finally stopped, lungs burning. Ahead lay another town she recognized—its walls faintly lit under the moonlight.
Kana stared at it, her heartbeat slowing.
“I must not,” she murmured. Her voice trembled just slightly.
Then she turned, vanishing into the darker hills beyond.
….
Most of the students were chattering—loud, shaky voices that tried too hard to sound brave.
They exaggerated the parts where they had contributed, where they had stood firm.
Fear turned into pride once danger passed.
It always did.
Still, their laughter rang hollow against the cold northern wind.
They marched alongside the northern soldiers, whose silence was far heavier. Their boots struck the frozen earth in a grim rhythm, a steady cadence that reminded the students this victory had teeth. And a cost.
A trumpet sounded as they approached the fortress—bright, rising notes, the kind used for festivals and feasts.
But the tune felt wrong.
Too cheerful.
Too loud.
The civilians came out, running from their homes with relief etched on their faces. Some cheered, some waved cloth banners, and children squeezed between the adults hoping to see real warriors up close.
Then their eyes shifted.
Then widened.
Then fell.
The cheering dimmed when Lord Kavel’s coffin passed through the gate. His spear lay across it like a soul refusing to stand down.
Silence rippled outward—soft at first, then spreading like frost. Mothers stopped clapping. Old men pressed hands to their chests. Even the trumpet faltered and died mid-note.
The students didn’t need the sudden hush to know the truth.
They carried it with them.
They did not celebrate. Especially the students, they didn’t have the faces for celebration—not while one of the students whereabouts were unknown.
The students went directly to the temporary houses they’d stayed before to rest for a day before leaving.
One of the temporary houses felt too quiet compared to the other houses outside. A heavy quiet. The kind that settled in the chest and refused to move.
Chairs scraped the wooden floor as they collapsed into seats.
Sighs escaped them like leaking air from a cracked barrel.
Adam buried his face into his hands. Yuri tapped her foot relentlessly. Even Boris, who looked like stone after the battlefield, finally let fatigue soften his shoulders.
Suri didn’t sit.
She stood in the center of the room with her eyes closed, immersion deep enough that mana sparks flickered faintly around her, people sensitive to mana would definitely feel it. Her illusion skill spread outward like invisible threads—reaching, probing, searching for the familiar pulse of Kana’s presence.
Nothing.
She pushed harder.
Wor-en entered the house quietly, closing the door behind him as if afraid the sound would shatter them further.
“We will hear soon about Kana,” he began gently. His voice held warmth, but beneath it was tension—worry he carefully hid.
No one responded.
“The prince has already assigned the royal knights to search for her.”
Wor-en tried to smile. “They will find her soon. Be patient.”
The students nodded, some weakly, some with stiff resolve.
Except Suri.
Still standing. Still searching.
Her brows tightened. She whispered under her breath, a trembling mantra:
“Come on, Kana… where are you…”
Mana flickered again, brighter this time—she forced the range farther than she ever had. A bead of sweat rolled down her cheek. The wooden floor beneath her bare feet thrummed softly with the strain.
Rin took a step toward her. “Suri, you’ll hurt yourself—”
“Quiet,” Suri whispered.
Her voice cracked.
The air around her pulsed once.
And still—nothing.
She opened her eyes slowly.
They were bloodshot.
And fearful.
“She’s not nearby,” Suri said, barely audible. “Not in the north. Not in any place my illusions can reach.”
Her hands trembled.
“Where are you?” she whispered.
No one had an answer.
………
There had been five of them at the beginning—
five gutter-born children, starved thin, small enough to slither between cracks in locked windows, desperate enough to steal anything that glittered.
Back then, survival was a game they played against the world.
And Sun—though that was not his birth name—was at the center.
Bright. Bold.
A boy who acted like he owned the sky long before he ever controlled land.
The name “Sun” stuck because everything revolved around him, whether people wanted to or not.
But leadership didn’t fill stomachs.
The older they grew, the more they realized being a thief was unpredictable. One day their hands glittered with stolen rings and coin; the next, they would be gnawing on stale roots, too afraid to steal from the wrong caravan or person.
The turning point came when Dit—Sun’s frail, sickly shadow—made a suggestion.
Dit had always been the weak one. Bones too prominent. Hands too thin. He coughed too often and ate too little.
But Sun eventually learned that Dit’s mind was the sharpest weapon in their group. Every time they succeeded, it had been Dit’s plan. Every time they escaped a beating, it had been Dit’s warning.
Sun still remembered as if it happened yesterday.
“Stealing won’t sustain us,” Sun had muttered, frustrated. “We need something steady.”
Dit’s eyes lit up.
He unrolled a massive parchment he’d stolen from some minor noble—edges torn, charcoal lines smudged.
“The mountains here,” Dit said, tapping the map with his trembling finger, “are too steep. People can only pass through this small corridor.”
Sun leaned closer.
“This path,” Dit continued, voice growing stronger, “connects two major cities and three minor towns. If we control the middle, we control everything. We become the gatekeepers—collecting fees, managing safe passage. It’s like a city’s toll… but we own it.”
Sun laughed. Hard and loud.
But the idea dug into him.
A territory.
A reputation people would depend on.
Coin that came to them, instead of them having to chase it.
“All we need is a good reputation,” Dit said. “If we promise travelers safety after paying… and actually keep that promise… word will spread. They’ll trust us.”
That single idea grew into twenty years.
More than three hundred fighters under Sun’s command.
Connections so deep, even the empire purchased slaves from them.
Merchants feared their name but paid their fees willingly.
Today was another routine.
Another caravan.
But the merchant in front of Sun was one of his regulars.
He swayed his head, he couldn’t believe he was still breathing too fast.
Acting far, far too poorly.
Sun grunted as the man handed him the pouch—light as air. It was empty after all.
“What? You increased the fee again?” the merchant cried, voice warbling with forced outrage.
Sun sighed internally. Terrible acting.
“Please don’t hurt us! Take me instead!” the merchant said dramatically, even going so far as to fall to his knees.
Sun raised his hand.
His men drew steel instantly—three hundred blades singing out like a single note.
Arrows were notched atop boulders, branch platforms, and shadowed ridges—every hidden position his men had memorized across decades.
The merchant’s guards who had no idea panicked, stumbling into a defensive wall.
Fear rippled across them like wind moving through tall grass.
Sun ignored them.
He scanned the caravan slowly… methodically.
Until he found her.
A hood covering most of her face.
A posture too composed for a girl on a dangerous road.
And eyes—red, unmistakable—glowing under the shadow of her hood like embers refusing to die.
Young.
Too young to be this calm.
So that’s her, must be panicking inside. Sun thought.
The one the merchant was trying—to sell this time.
“I will take her,” Sun declared, licking his lips. “As your passage fee. No one else will be hurt. You have my word.”
The merchant erupted into sheer, chaotic panic.
“No! Not her! Take me instead—she isn’t with us! We only met her today!”
Pathetic acting.
Sun opened his mouth to speak—
But the girl spoke first.
Her voice wasn’t what he expected.
Not frightened.
Not desperate.
It was low. Controlled.
A tone that didn’t fit someone her age.
A tone that—somehow—felt heavier than the three hundred men surrounding her.
“Fine,” she said softly.
It didn’t feel soft.
“I do not want anyone to be harmed… because of me.”
Post note:
I have some doubts if I am able to execute it right..
Hope you enjoy the chap! 🙂
Comments
Baelor
Teleported back to Saltrain Village again! I guess there's truth to the saying: "There's no place like home"
Bosparan
Thanks for the chapter! Looking forward to the poor bandit's fate :)
