Super.Dawg
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Chapter 95
🕑 Added 2025-08-26 10:12:01 +0000 UTCThe winter air bit at Kana’s cheeks, sharper now than it had been a few months ago. She tugged her scarf higher, its wool scratchy against her chin, and tried not to shiver. Beside her, Suri bounced lightly on her heels, red scarf whipping in the wind, while Boris stood solid and unmoving, arms crossed like a stubborn bear enduring the cold.
“They’re here!” Suri shouted, waving. Her voice carried above the noise of the gate traffic. Kana didn’t even need to look—of course Suri had already tracked them with her illusions long before the wagons arrived.
The familiar creak of wood reached Kana’s ears, and she turned. A caravan she knew too well trundled through the gate, its wheels dusted with frost, its horses steaming in the cold. The first wagon halted, and two figures hurried down.
Lily. Shar.
Kana’s chest tightened as her mother’s face came into view, her steps brisk but steady. The lines at the corner of Lily’s eyes had deepened, but her smile was the same—the kind that once smoothed over every childhood scrape. Beside her, Shar ran without restraint, skirts tangling at her legs as she barreled straight into Suri, wrapping her daughter in a crushing hug that lifted her from the ground.
“Kana,” Lily whispered as she reached her. The embrace came quickly, arms warm and firm around Kana’s shoulders.
For a moment, Kana forgot how to breathe. She hadn’t realized until now how badly she’d missed this warmth, how long she’d carried the cold weight of battles, and endless training. She had grown so used to standing tall, to meeting every challenge with an unshaken face… but now, in her mother’s arms, her eyes stung, and her throat ached.
“I’m fine, Mother,” Kana managed, though her voice cracked. She pressed her face against the scarf and held tighter, just for a moment longer.
The warmth broke as a heavier voice cut through the reunion.
“Boris!”
The village chief strode up, papers for the guards already signed and shoved aside. The man squared his shoulders, eyes narrowing as if sizing up a wayward apprentice. Boris opened his arms wide, grinning.
Thwack!
The chief’s hand smacked down on his head with such force that even Kana flinched.
“Heard you upset some nobles,” the chief said flatly. “You never listen.”
Boris staggered back, rubbing his head furiously. “How did you even know that?”
The wagons behind them burst with laughter—villagers pointing, chuckling, some shaking their heads in fond exasperation. Even Kana, cheeks still damp, found herself smiling.
At the edge of the road, leaning casually against the wagon frame, Aldo the [Bowman] gave a two-fingered salute. His bow rested across his back, quiver heavy at his left had, though his expression was light, calm as ever. The coachman beside him lifted a hand in greeting, as though this trip had been nothing more than a pleasant winter ride.
But for Kana, it was more than a reunion. It was a reminder—of home, of warmth, of why she fought in the first place.
…
The trio told their families all about life in the academy, voices brimming with excitement as they retold the stories—especially the recent battle that earned them the badge of honor. Pride lit their mothers’ faces, though worry still lingered quietly in their eyes.
Soon after, they boarded the wagon bound for the central district. The streets grew wider and busier, the air filled with the chatter of merchants and the distant clang of blacksmiths. At the plaza, Leo was already waiting, a group of children gathered at his side.
“Leo!” Kana called, waving.
He waved back, his usual easy smile softening as he ushered the children closer. They were thin, many with tattered clothes and hollow cheeks, but their eyes burned with something between fear and hope.
Their parents bowed quickly at the sight of Leo. He frowned and raised his hand. “There’s no need for that,” he insisted, though the gesture only earned awkward glances.
Kana’s gaze swept over the group. There were far more than she expected. “This is… more than the list you gave me,” she said softly.
Leo nodded. “A few were hiding. Waiting. Word spread about the orphanage, and when they heard… they came out. Some still have guardians, but we’ll sort it out.”
Kana smiled, her breath misting in the winter air. “The more, the better,” she said. “If they want a new home, we’ll give them one.”
The children shuffled uncertainly as they climbed into the wagon. Some whispered to one another in nervous tones, clutching small bundles of their meager belongings. A few had wide, eager smiles, already chattering about hot meals and warm beds. But others remained quiet, doubt etched on their young faces—unsure if this new home was truly different from the slums they had just left.
Kana watched them, her chest tightening. She understood. Hope was a fragile thing, easily broken. All the more reason to protect it.
…….
Inside one of the wagons, laughter and chatter from the children filled the air, their voices a fragile layer of warmth against the cold. But in the corner, Suri’s expression darkened. Her eyes narrowed as she leaned against Kana, her voice dropping to a whisper.
“I thought it was just a coincidence,” she murmured, “but the same mana signature is following us. Watching.”
Kana’s gaze flicked toward the street outside the wagon, calm but sharp, like the stillness before a storm. “I’ve felt it too,” she admitted. “But I can’t pin down the source. It shifts… slippery, like smoke. It has to be some kind of skill.”
“I’m trying to trace it,” Suri said, her tone clipped with frustration. “But the trail scatters. I can’t trace who’s using it.”
Before Kana could answer, a voice broke the quiet. Her mother Lily, “What are you two whispering about?”
Kana blinked. One of the children—wide-eyed, curious—was staring at them.
Suri reacted instantly, her smile blossoming like a mask. “Oh, nothing,” she said lightly, slipping into a giggle. “I just heard Kana promised to cook for us!”
The wagon erupted in cheers. The children clapped their hands, some bouncing in their seats at the thought of food.
Kana’s lips twitched, her composure cracking. She reached under the blanket and pinched Suri’s side. Suri flinched, suppressing a yelp, but her grin held firm. She carefully pried Kana’s hand away.
She didn’t know if she could truly deliver on her claim. Cooking wasn’t the problem—Kana had already bought the ingredients after the quick visit from the newly built orphanage. It was what she intended to cook. A dish that didn’t exist in this world. Not that she was aware of. It was all in her mind. Like the English letters.
And yet, beneath the cheers and playful pinches, the weight of unspoken truth pressed on both of them. Someone was watching. Someone capable. If it was just about them, they could endure. But it wasn’t.
They looked at the laughing children, at the wagon filled with fragile hope. At the thought of the orphanage waiting for them.
They couldn’t afford to let an unknown slip through unseen.
….
Flowel’s hollow eyes glimmered in the dim light, shadow pooling in the wrinkles beneath them. His back was slightly hunched, a permanent bend that made him look like a carrion bird forever perched. A ragged cloth hung over his head—not out of modesty, but to hide the bald head he despised.
Those who knew him didn’t mock. They feared. Flowel was one of the organization’s top executives, a name whispered only in dread. Soon, he promised himself, the academy students would learn that fear too.
The basement still stank of dust and broken stone, the vaults plundered and emptied. He crouched, long fingers tracing over the gouges left behind, though his mind was elsewhere. He could see them—those three from Saltrain Village. Kana. Boris. Suri. Sharp eyes, sharp instincts. Too sharp for young people around their age.
He chuckled, the sound dry and rasping. His fingers twitched, mana coiling outward into threads that shimmered faintly in the dark. The threads pulled together, weaving into a puppet—half the size of a man, its form crude but deadly. With his skill, [Puppet], Flowel could manipulate it from anywhere across the continent. His strings reached farther than any of them could imagine.
He almost released it now. Almost. He could have one of them strangled in their sleep, their body left as a warning. His lips peeled back in a grin, teeth like crooked nails. But no—their orphanage was crowded. Too many witnesses. It had to be done secretly.
His puppet faded, dissolving back into mana. The strings recoiled into his fingers like snakes.
“West,” he muttered, voice scraping low in his throat.
He spat, then laughed—a hollow, broken sound. He could slaughter them all. He could burn the orphanage to the ground. But the royal knights prowled too close these days, and too many corpses drew too many questions.
Better to stalk. Better to let the prey grow nervous, second-guessing shadows. The sharper their instincts, the sweeter the breaking.
His grin widened until it looked carved into his face. He had new toys, after all. A new torture toys that hadn’t tasted blood yet.
“Perhaps I must capture one of them alive,” he whispered, stroking the edge of a blade at his hip. “Yes… to test the tools. To hear them scream.”
The basement swallowed his laughter, but it crawled upward through the cracks, as if the earth itself wanted to flee.
Comments
kreiverin
Thanks
Skylar
I really hope they ruin Flowel's life and end it. He really doesn't know what he is dealing with. But then neither does Kana. I'm interested in seeing exactly who she reincarnated from. I love the way you are bringing her memories slowly to the fore.
