Super.Dawg
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Chapter 132
🕑 Added 2025-10-08 10:12:01 +0000 UTCThe boys seemed more animated than usual, their voices rising, their jokes bolder whenever Zia’s eyes lingered their way.
Meanwhile, Suri, Rin, and Yuri had made it their mission to corner her every break. They peppered her with questions as though she were some rare creature on display.
“Miss Zia,” Rin asked one afternoon, her curiosity outweighing her shyness, “I heard the ageless live for a very long time. How old are you now?”
Zia tilted her head, as if calculating. “Hmm… if I were to compare it to human years… perhaps twenty-seven? Twenty-eight?”
“Ha! I win!” Yuri clapped her hands together, triumphant. Suri and Rin groaned, slipping her a few coins under the table.
Kana pressed her palm to her forehead and shook her head. Why would they gamble on an elf’s age? I mean, the ageless.
Then Zia’s tone shifted, her gaze cutting toward Kana. “I heard human strength is declining.” Her voice carried no judgment, just an unsettling certainty. Then, after a pause, she added, “But… there are still a few exceptions.”
Kana stiffened. Zia’s eyes lingered on her like they saw deeper than her skin.
And then, just as quickly, the weight in the air vanished. Zia’s lips curled into a faint smile. “Don’t worry too much. Just treat this expedition as… a field trip? A walk in the park? Is that the phrase? I will not let anyone die on my watch. I have a habit of completing my quests—perfectly.”
The rest of the week passed with little else but drills and explanations. Wor-en covered each student’s skills and weaknesses with clinical precision. Zia said nothing more—only watched.
By the end, the decision was clear. Each student group would march north under the care of one professor and one silver-rank adventurer.
..
Kana’s evenings were no longer spent with random books or idle curiosity. Instead, she poured through thick tomes about the north—bestial anatomies, field notes of fallen adventurers, annotated maps that bled red with warning ink. She committed every detail to memory: how frost ogres lumbered with slow recovery after a lunge, how ice drakes despised fire but adapted quickly to repeated attacks, how wraiths dissolved if struck with silver. Each fact felt like another weapon in her hands, another thread between survival and disaster.
When the weekend came, the group moved together into the bustling market. Stalls rang with voices of merchants calling out wares—steel that gleamed with enchantments, potions that shimmered in strange hues, leathers layered with wards against frostbite.
Roy haggled over vials of frost-resist, while Rin fingered the seams of padded cloaks, testing the weave. Suri drifted to the charms, muttering that they needed more luck than skills.
Leo Stark arrived a little later, Leo tugging toward every weapon-smith he could find. The purchases weren’t entirely out of pocket. Crates were stamped with the sigil of Duke Stark—his sponsorship evident in the polished hilts and upgraded armor the shopkeepers unveiled for them.
It might have looked like ordinary shopping to the crowd, but every choice carried the weight of the north. Each blade strapped, each potion stowed, was not for luxury—but for survival.
….
The royal hall was a place built for ideas, or so the old architects claimed. A hall of counsel, where wisdom was meant to outweigh pride.
Reality, however, had long since twisted that ideal.
Marble pillars lined the chamber, the air thick with the smell of wax and perfume. Every word spoken by the gathered officials clashed like swords on steel—sharp, proud, and empty.
King J sat on the dais, silent, his fingers resting against the carved arm of the throne as the debate flared before him.
“This is unjust,” said one of the officials, a viscount whose voice always carried too easily. “Especially for him.”
“Whom do you mean?” asked another.
“Ryle Greece, leading his team,” the viscount declared, puffing his chest. “The unbeaten champion of the last two annual tournaments—and I’ll wager he will win again this year. A born knight, and of noble blood at that. Why risk the title on… a commoner?”
He didn’t say Kana’s name, but the disdain in his tone made it clear.
Another official murmured in agreement. “He’s right. The royal knight order is no place for untested… exceptions.”
The king’s jaw tightened. What was meant to be a simple discussion had turned into yet another power play. Pride and politics—he could smell them in every word.
“Both of them are promising,” said Duke Stark, his calm voice cutting through the noise. “Let them both take the exam. The test will decide.”
A scoff. “And if both perish? We lose two of our brightest hopes.”
Duke Stark’s lips curved into something between a smile and a threat. “Then let the king decide.”
The room quieted.
King J finally moved, his quill scratching across parchment. He didn’t raise his voice, yet every noble felt his words hang over them like judgment.
“A test of strength, a test of character… and loyalty. Let the records show, both will take it.”
He signed the royal mark with deliberate grace.
As the officials bowed and murmured false praises, the king’s eyes lingered—not on the parchment, but on the faces below. Someone among them was stirring this conflict, pushing noble against commoner, talent against bloodline.
Let them scheme, he thought. Let them show their true colors.
When the new hope graduates…
He would cleanse the court himself.
….
The king had long since learned that power was never about the throne—it was about knowing who sat around it. Allies shifted like sand, enemies smiled like friends, and even loyalty had a price.
Of course, he kept tabs on them all.
Nearly every official in his court had opposed Kana’s entry into the Royal Knight exam—unless Ryle Greece was forced to take it as well. Convenient. Predictable. Someone wanted her tested… or erased.
When the day’s council finally adjourned, King J found Duke Stark waiting in the corridor. The echo of their footsteps filled the marble hallway, long after the other nobles had left.
“Your Majesty,” Duke Stark greeted with a respectful bow. “Do you need something from me?”
The king stopped beside a window, where moonlight spilled across the polished floor. “Tell me, Duke Stark,” he said quietly, “why do you support the commoner girl? Kana. I see no advantage for you—only risk.”
Duke Stark’s smile was faint, unreadable. “You’re right, of course. But I trust my eyes more than politics. My judgment tells me she will become… something great. I’m simply making an early investment.”
King J studied him in silence, his gaze sharp. “Indeed,” he said at last. “I’ve heard your investments rarely fail.” He leaned closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “Then allow me to tell you something… interesting.”
The words that followed made the duke’s eyes widen, the faintest tremor flickering across his composed face. Then, suddenly, he laughed—a deep, genuine sound that startled the guards outside the corridor.
“So that’s it,” Duke Stark said, clapping his hands together once, the sound echoing down the marble hall. “That’s why.”
King J gave a small nod, a knowing glint in his eyes. “We have thought she’s going to live a quiet life.. I don’t think that will happen.”
The two men exchanged a silent understanding—one built not on trust, but on recognition of power yet to bloom.
….
There were probably over a hundred children in the field, none older than ten. Their bones jutted beneath sunburnt skin, every face marked with bruises. The heat pressed down like punishment.
“Kill each other,” an officer barked. His shadow stretched long behind him. “If you survive until tomorrow… then the empire will choose you.”
Ryle jerked upright, drenched in sweat though winter’s chill clung to the air. His chest heaved. He muttered into the darkness, “That damn dream again.”
His gaze flicked across the room. His boardmate lay sprawled, still breathing evenly. No sign of awakening from whatever he said during his sleep. Ryle swung his legs down, pulled on his boots, and slipped outside.
The capital slumbered beneath a blanket of silence. Cobblestones gleamed with frost, windows shuttered, lanterns guttering low. Peaceful. Almost too peaceful. He knew how easily it could all unravel.
The empire had been underestimated for too long. Now they even knew of the academy’s northern expedition. What came after that? Ryle didn’t dare guess. His secret quest—whatever fate had bound him to—might be running shorter than he had thought.
“Who’s there?”
A sharp voice sliced the night behind him.
Ryle raised both hands. “Sorry. Couldn’t sleep. I just needed some air.”
Mica stepped out from the shadow, Shai padding at her side. The feline stretched, growled low, then settled back. Mica’s eyes softened. “Oh. It’s you, Ryle. Just… don’t stay out too long.”
Ryle nodded and moved on, though his mind lingered on darker thoughts.
The empire’s strength was in its legions: countless soldiers drilled into unity. The kingdom was different. It relied on its outliers, individuals whose power could tilt the tide of battle on their own. But even legends grew old, and the empire had chosen its moment well.
Now, with the next generation of talents about to march north, the trap was set..
A new quest was given to him.
Post note:
This chapter is a bit of a preview on what is about to come. The expedition to the north will be more than one time bonus experience event(originally inspired by some sort of treasure island event games somewhere lol) and a bit of air time for the new significant character.
