Super.Dawg
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Chapter 142
🕑 Added 2025-10-18 17:58:46 +0000 UTC“All clear. We don’t see anyone,” one of the northern soldiers called out, his voice almost lost to the storm.
The campsite lay in ruin.
Broken tents half-buried in snow, torn cloth fluttering weakly in the wind. Shattered weapons poked from the drifts like frozen bones. Everything looked like the aftermath of something violent—but strangely quiet now, as if the world itself wanted to forget.
Students spread out, digging through the debris. Their gloves brushed metal, wood, and stone—each discovery another broken thing. No bodies. No warmth. Only fragments of what once was.
Suri stood still near the edge, eyes closed, her mana rippling faintly like threads in the air. When she opened them, her voice came out low and uneasy.
“I don’t see anyone nearby. But... I might be wrong. My illusion’s sight doesn’t work well in this kind of weather.”
Wor-en gave a curt nod. He didn’t speak much, but the tension in his jaw said enough.
Kana, standing a few paces from the center, drew a slow breath and closed her eyes. Her [High Awareness] pulsed outward like invisible waves through the snow and wreckage. She could sense the faint warmth of life—her friends, the soldiers—but nothing else. No movement beyond. Only the lingering pulse of mana in the air, faint and fractured, like echoes of a spell long spent.
Then she felt it.
A spark. Tiny, but distinct—buried under a mound of rubble.
“There,” Kana said, pointing toward a collapsed tent half-covered in ice.
Boris grunted, already moving, his thick arms shoveling aside the snow by hand. Adam joined him. The cold bit at their skin, but neither stopped.
“Are you sure there’s something here?” Boris muttered through clenched teeth. His hands were red and stiff, but he kept digging.
Kana frowned, eyes still half-closed. “I’m not sure... but it feels wrong if we ignore it.”
They kept at it, until Adam’s hand struck something solid. “Found it!” he shouted, pulling free a pendant—a small, silver crest wrapped in a faint shimmer of mana, glinting even in the gray light.
Wor-en took it, brushing snow from its surface. The instant his eyes fell on the design, his expression changed. All warmth drained from his face.
He said nothing for several seconds, just stared at the pendant, his fingers tightening around it. Then, with uncharacteristic urgency, he pulled a parchment from his coat and began writing..
When he finished, he wrapped the letter and bound the pendant to it, the trinket serving as a seal. “Suri,” he said quietly, “take this to Principal Light. Now.”
Suri nodded, serious now. She infused the letter with mana, and in a flash of light, it took by one of her illusions on the ground.
Kana stepped forward. “Professor,” she said, curious but careful. “What’s that pendant? You recognized it.”
Wor-en didn’t look at her. His eyes were still fixed on the spot where the letter had disappeared. “I can’t say yet,” he said finally. “Not until the principal confirms it.”
Boris gave a low whistle, trying to ease the air. “Well, that sounds... ominous.”
No one laughed.
The wind picked up again, whistling through the empty camp, carrying with it the faint metallic chime of something half-buried still shifting in the snow—like the ruins themselves hadn’t quite finished whispering.
….
Wor-en made the call after a quick survey. “We’ll rest here,” he said, stamping his boots into the snow to mark the center of camp. “Light the fire. Heat the water. We’ll move again once everyone’s recovered.”
The wind inside the dungeon howled through the trees like an old spirit, dragging snowflakes in twisting arcs. Even with Toby’s buff shimmering faintly around them, the cold still crept in—not the biting, bone-breaking cold from before, but a deep, honest chill that reminded them they were still somewhere in the North.
The fire came alive with a crackle. Orange light flickered across their weary faces, reflecting in armor, in tired eyes. Steam rose as the pot began to boil, and the scent of melting snow filled the air.
“I think this is a good time to take our lunch,” Wor-en said, his voice cutting through the wind.
Jarl grinned, teeth flashing white against his frost-stiffened beard. “Then you’re in luck! We’ll let you taste the best dish of the North.”
Three of the northern soldiers dropped their packs—hand-carved wooden boxes bound with froststeel hinges—and began unpacking ingredients. Thick cuts of meat, already marinated. Bundles of hardy herbs wrapped in wax paper. The sound of sizzling filled the camp as they roasted the meat, the fat spitting firelight into the air, the smell—rich, smoky, spiced—drawing everyone closer.
When the stew was finished, Jarl ladled the thick broth into bowls. The scent alone was enough to pull even the quietest student from their daze.
Suri was first in line, of course. She didn’t even wait for the steam to settle. “This is good!” she said between hurried bites. “There’s something... earthy in it. Sweet but not. What is that? Some kind of wild herb?”
Jarl’s booming laugh rolled through the camp. “A quite sensitive tongue indeed! Aye, you’re right. We use some secret northern herb—grows only under the snow near mountain roots. It’s what keeps you from freezing inside out!”
The students followed one by one. Some wrinkled their noses at the first spoonful—too bitter, too smoky—but before long, the pot was empty and the air was filled with contented murmurs.
Kana, however, was quiet. She stared at her reflection rippling in her bowl, a sudden thought came out from her mouth, “Fried chicken!”
Rin, sitting beside her, blinked. “Fried... what?”
Kana blinked herself, as if waking from a dream. “Ah, nothing. Just... something I remembered.” She smiled faintly and took another sip.
Across the fire, Boris and Suri exchanged a glance.
“She’s like that sometimes,” Boris said, lowering his bowl. “But it’s been a while since we heard her say something strange...”
Suri smirked. “That’s a good sign. Something good usually happens when she starts saying strange things.”
Kana looked up, frowning. “You know I can hear you, right?”
Suri grinned wider.
Laughter rippled through the camp, brief but bright against the cold wind. For a moment, it almost felt like peace—like the dungeon wasn’t just beyond the ridge, waiting for them.
But when the laughter faded, the fire crackled again, and somewhere far off, a low, distant rumble echoed through the snow.
Kana glanced toward the sound, her smile slowly fading. “...Did anyone else hear that?”
…..
Their chatter faded when Kana stopped walking. The crackle of fire and crunch of boots over snow gave way to silence. She stood still—her gaze narrowing toward the horizon where the wind screamed louder.
Her focus shifted to her [High Awareness].
In that instant, the world sharpened—the drifting flakes slowed, and every distant vibration in the snow pulsed through her veins. Dozens. No—hundreds of presences surged ahead. Maybe more. They were moving fast, their rhythm too uniform to be wild chaos. Monsters. But not just monsters. Among them with a very faint presence, were human footsteps—five of them—walking in stride beside the beasts.
Kana frowned. “Weird,” she said softly, her tone calm but edged with unease. “There’s a swarm of monsters ahead... and five people walking along with them.”
A voice spoke beside her. “Indeed.”
Kana flinched. Zia had appeared without a sound—no footprints, no warning—her golden eyes gleaming like twin suns in the storm.
“I only detected three,” Zia said, arms folded. “You must have a very... interesting skill.”
Kana didn’t answer. She only forced a smile, though her heartbeat quickened.
Suri’s voice came next, strained. “I can’t count them properly. There’s too many. Their numbers are higher than all the dungeon monsters we fought earlier—combined.”
Wor-en’s face hardened. The veteran tone returned to his voice. “Then we retreat. While they’re still far.”
The wind carried his words away almost instantly.
But then, a shift—an invisible weight pressed against the air. Kana’s presence flared—not as mana, but as something primal. Her intent alone seemed to warp the cold.
Wor-en turned toward her, his breath frosting between them. Her red eyes gleamed faintly, and even the northern soldiers unconsciously stepped back.
I will not let a bunch of exp go to others, Kana thought, biting down the grin that threatened to rise.
Her tone was steady when she spoke, though her pulse thundered. “Why are we retreating?” she asked. “We must kill them before they threaten others.”
Silence. Even the wind seemed to pause, tasting her conviction.
Wor-en studied her—the same girl who once laughed her way through near-death battles in the fruit dungeon. Behind her, Adam and Leo adjusted their grips, as if already preparing. Roy leaned heavily on his staff, his expression unreadable but his reliable skeletal summon twitching in response.
And there was Zia, quiet as ever, her faint smile unreadable, but her presence—steady as an anchor—seemed to radiate quiet approval.
Wor-en sighed. Principal Light’s words echoed in his mind. Zia can clear the dungeon by herself.
“When Kana is like that,” Suri murmured, a smirk tugging at her lips, “we just follow her.”
Wor-en rubbed his temples, then gave a small, defeated chuckle. “Very well,” he said, voice steady again. “We’ll fight—but defensively. Hold position. Don’t overextend. And I will use the crying stone, if necessary.”
Kana’s intensity broke, her bloodlust fading like mist in sunlight. She smiled again, that same confident, reckless grin that had carried them through every fight before.
“Don’t worry too much, Professor Wor-en” she said,”I’ll go all out this time.”
Behind her, the wind howled louder—no longer just wind, but the drum of countless footsteps approaching through the snow.
Post note:
Originally there was a scene as to what happened in the camp.. But I felt that it was kinda spoiler.
Kana is obsessed with leveling up!(almost smack the head of Wor-en)😂
Hope you enjoy! 🙂
Comments
Rethyria
Aren't they inside the dungeon? What use is the crying stone?
kreiverin
Thanks
