Super.Dawg
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Chapter 148
🕑 Added 2025-10-25 17:18:29 +0000 UTCThe clang of steel still echoed faintly from the frontlines. The air smelled of ozone and burnt leather — the byproduct of too many skills casted too quickly. Kana could feel the vibration of battle even from where she stood, like the heartbeat of the earth itself thrumming beneath her boots.
Up ahead, Boris and Jarl led the push. Boris' massive spear swung in clean, practiced arcs, while Jarl, the captain of the squad barked orders that cut through the noise. The monsters were faltering — Kana could sense it. Her team had the upper hand.
Behind them, Yuri stood apart, staff half-lowered, her silhouette framed against the dull-gray horizon. She’d moved to higher ground for visibility, observing closely the chaos at the frontline, ready to unleash her second skill if necessary.
“Roy, what’s wrong?” Kana asked, turning toward Roy who was crouching near the fallen northern soldier.
Roy didn’t answer at first. He knelt there, one hand hovering inches above the man’s chest, brows knitted behind his cracked spectacles. The snow around the body had already darkened — too much blood for anyone to survive.
Then Roy stood slowly. His breath came out in small clouds. “He’s still alive.”
Kana frowned. “No. He isn’t.”
She closed her eyes, focusing on her [High Awareness]. The world dimmed around her as her senses stretched outward — heartbeats, mana signatures, faint echoes of life. The soldier before her was utterly still. No pulse. No flow. Nothing.
“He’s dead,” Kana said, opening her eyes.
Roy shook his head, muttering to himself. “There’s… no, how do I put this…” He adjusted his spectacles again. “When a person dies, their body is surrounded by something — a trace of mana, different from the living kind. This one is… resisting. Like he refuses to leave.”
A faint shimmer crossed the soldier’s skin — a heat mirage over frozen flesh.
Zia’s voice drifted from behind them. “You’re right.”
Kana turned. Zia appeared from the haze of snow as if the battlefield itself had decided to conjure her — hair catching the dying light. She knelt beside the corpse. “This man will probably become a ghost,” she said softly. “His body’s dead, but his soul hasn’t realized it yet. Too many regrets.”
Yuri felt a coldness spread through her chest. “A ghost?”
“Yes.” Zia pressed a hand over her staff. “Let’s not let it come to that.”
Zia whispered something under her breath — a skill Kana had not witnessed before— and raised her hand.
“[Greater Mass Heal].”
The air shimmered. Then green smoke burst outward, rising like breath on a winter morning before dissolving into the air. The magic swept over them, warm and tingling, carrying the faint scent of herbs and ash.
Wor-en, who was resting against a rock, straightened. “My cuts— they’re closing!” He flexed his arm, laughing under his breath.
Kana looked down at herself. Thin slices across her forearm knit together, leaving faint traces of warmth beneath the skin. “Mine too,” she murmured.
Roy rolled his ankle, surprise flashing across his face. “Even my leg feels fine now…”
Zia exhaled. “Support skills,” she said simply. “I’m hired and assigned to your group because of my support skills.”
Kana raised an eyebrow. Her instincts told her otherwise. Everything about Zia — her confidence, her precision — screamed anything but a support. [Battle Mage] class sounded not a support type at all.
Still, she bit her tongue. The time for questions would come later.
For now, her gaze drifted back to the fallen soldier. The one who refused to die
The snow around his body had stopped melting. The air above him shimmered faintly, a distortion that Kana could feel more than see. A remnant. A soul, maybe.
The fallen soldier’s body twitched.
Kana froze.
At first it was just a tremor — a spasm of muscles tightening under torn armor. Then came the faintest gasp. A shallow breath, barely audible beneath the moaning wind. Another followed. Then a third, deeper, steadier.
The wound in his chest began to knit together, slow but deliberate, until only the faintest scar remained where the blade had pierced through.
“Nalyn…” Kana whispered.
Roy rushed forward, slipping on the blood-slick snow. He pressed two fingers to the man’s neck, then leaned close enough that his breath fogged against Nalyn’s face.
“He lost a lot of blood,” Roy said, eyes wide behind his spectacles. “But he’ll live.”
Adam grunted, lowering his axe. “You can tell?”
Roy gave a faint, nervous chuckle. “Well… I’ve always been interested in death. I study it. What causes it, how it happens. So yes, I can tell.”
The cold wind cut through Kana’s hair, stinging her cheek. She exhaled slowly, the tension draining from her limbs. Relief came quietly — not as joy, but as release from a weight she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying.
If Nalyn had died… it would have been on her.
She knew the risks when she ordered the charge. She knew they should’ve fallen back when the monster wave crested the ridge. But greed for experience, for progress—had whispered louder than caution.
This time, luck had spared her the guilt.
She knelt beside the soldier, watching the shallow rise and fall of his chest. “Rest, Nalyn,” she murmured.
But her gaze shifted to Zia.
Something about the woman unsettled her. Zia’s class — whatever she claimed — didn’t match what Kana had seen. A support class shouldn’t move with such control. The way Zia moved had been clean and silent. Every motion efficient, every glance calculated. That was like the shadow man.
And yet, she could cast [Greater Mass Heal].
A gust of wind swept through the clearing, carrying with it the iron tang of blood and the faint scent of burnt fur. The remaining monsters were breaking. They didn’t flee chaotically — they pulled back in formation. Coordinated. Directed.
“No,” Kana muttered, scanning the shadows between trees. “They’re not running. They’re retreating… under orders. From someone.”
Suri planted her staff into the snow, eyes narrowing as blue light rippled from its tip. “I placed multiple illusions to track them,” she said, her voice breathless but steady.
Adam hefted the last of the bodies — the men and women who attacked them — and dragged them into a small pile. Two of the captured enemies writhed, still screaming from Rin’s [Guilty Torture]. The sound clawed at the edge of Kana’s mind — a mix of agony and fury that didn’t quite sound human anymore.
Nearby, a red-haired woman — one of the black-hooded assailants — glared at them from her knees. The [Bind] glowed faintly gold around her waist, pulsing in time with her struggling breath. She strained against them, teeth clenched, muscles trembling.
Kana almost admired the defiance. Almost.
“Thank you,” Kana said at last, turning toward Zia. “For helping.”
Zia smirked. “I only healed the students cuts and bruises,” she said, brushing a streak of blood from her glove. “Let’s be clear — I’m not your savior. The northern soldier happened to be there. ”
Kana didn’t disagree anymore,“There were five of them. Where’s the other one?”
“I bet that’s the one who fired the arrow,” Rin said, wiping sweat from her brow.
“The last one probably retreated,” Zia replied. Her golden eyes flicked to Suri, sharp as a blade.
Suri hesitated under her gaze, shifting uncomfortably. “I… think so,” she said, her voice barely audible.
…
The campfire crackled weakly in the wind.
Its orange glow pushed back against the creeping darkness, a small island of warmth in the endless white.
Kana sat close to the flame, her hands outstretched toward the heat. The smell of smoke mixed with the faint iron tang of blood that clung to her armor. Behind her, tents flapped in the wind like restless spirits.
Nalyn lay inside one of them — still pale, but breathing steadily now. Each rise and fall of his chest was a reminder that, for once, fate had chosen mercy.
Across the fire, Jarl sat with his fur cloak drawn tight, a flask of northern ale in his hand. His face, lined by years of wind and frost, softened when he looked at her.
“Don’t blame yourself too much,” he said. His voice was gravel wrapped in kindness. “If not for you students, our squad would be nothing but a memory. Northern soldiers are resilient. As long as the bastard’s breathing, he’ll live.”
Kana gave a faint smile, though her eyes stayed fixed on the fire. The flames hissed and danced, twisting into shapes that reminded her of the battle — the flash of steel, the ghostlike enemy, the blood on snow.
“I’ll try,” she said quietly.
Not far away, Zia stood over their prisoners. Her staff glowed faintly with runes, golden light pulsing like a heartbeat. She waited until the last shimmer faded, then whispered a command.
“[Bind].”
The air tightened. Lines of light wrapped around the captives’ limbs and torsos, locking in place like living rope. The glow sank into their skin, and a hum of power rippled through the air. Kana could feel it — a subtle vibration in her bones, the kind that made the hair on her arms rise.
Zia lowered her staff, exhaling softly, she muttered. “One left.”
Kana could tell, there was a cooldown of Zia’s [Bind] skills. She needed to wait for a few moments before casting it again.
Then, unexpectedly, movement — the two who had been writhing under Rin’s [Guilty Torture] suddenly went still. Their eyes refocused, pupils narrowing. The oldest of them — the one Kana had fought — raised his head, sweat gleaming on his forehead.
“What… did you do to us?” he rasped. His voice was raw, cracked from screaming.
Rin tilted her head, curious. “So it also cancels my skill?” she asked, studying him like a scholar examining a specimen.
Zia nodded, brushing ash from her glove. “Yes. No other skills will remain active while my [Bind] is in effect.”
Wor-en approached, cloak dragging through the snow. His breath came in slow, deliberate puffs. “Jarl,” he said, his tone carrying quiet authority. “We need to question them. We’re far off from the academy’s original agenda.”
Jarl rose, adjusting his sword belt. “Agreed. Boys, with me. We’ll do it in the silence tent.”
The silence tent was a northern design — thick, rune-threaded fabric that muffled all sound from within. When they entered, even the wind’s howling seemed to vanish.
Wor-en paused before stepping inside. His gaze swept to Suri, who was sitting cross-legged by the fire, hands cupped around a crystal orb of her staff. “Any word from the principal?” he asked.
Suri frowned. The light from her orb reflected in her eyes like tiny moons. “None. He’s in that room again. The one that blocks all communication. I can’t get through.”
Wor-en sighed, the lines around his eyes deepening. “Let me know the moment you hear anything. And Suri—” He narrowed his eyes. “No illusions inside the tent.”
Suri pouted, clicking her tongue. “I understand, Professor.”
A portion of Wor-en's shadow suddenly vanished.
The flap closed behind him, muting his steps.
The fire popped. Snow drifted lazily through the air.
Kana stared into the flames until her reflection blurred. Around her, the others settled into quiet — the silence of exhaustion, of victories that didn’t feel like triumph.
Somewhere beyond the camp, the wind carried a faint echo — not quite a voice, not quite a cry. Just a whisper in the dark.
After a few moments, Suri, who was closing her eyes to focus on tracking, suddenly yelled,”Guys!”
“I found their camp! And I think I just saw the prince.”
Post note:
Zia’s character creation was inspired by.. You know when you start a game at low lvl then you see a high level character(Zia) that probably knows really well how the game works(some probably ask some tips)
Hope you enjoy the chap! 🙂
Comments
Bosparan
Thanks for the interesting chapter :)
