The team sat in an uneven circle near the edge of the village, drinking their potions in heavy silence.
The warm liquids returned some strength to their trembling limbs, but the exhaustion did not disappear… it merely stepped back.
Kevin was the first to break the silence as he swallowed the last drop.
Kevin:
"Alright… this is better, but I still feel like my bones are screaming."
Reinhart nodded as he wiped his forehead.
"The potions saved us."
Almost at the same moment, the question escaped all of their mouths.
Everyone:
"Where were you?"
They looked at Suho.
He stood a short distance away—far too calm.
His eyes were steady, as if they did not belong to this place.
Suho (clearly nervous, waving his hand):
"M–Me? I was… uh… killing a few on the outskirts… hahahahaha…"
A brief silence followed.
Then—
Looks of pity.
Kevin:
"That's the worst lie I've ever heard."
Reinhart (sighing):
"At least try to sound convincing."
Aileen said nothing, but she stared at him for a long moment, as if sensing that his silence hid something unspoken.
Ding—
Third Wave
700 Kobolds
300 Werewolves
The air changed.
There was no excitement left.
No beauty.
Bodies were exhausted, mana had been drained repeatedly, and muscles screamed in protest.
Before the assault began, Suho quietly moved toward Aileen.
He drew his sword.
It wasn't new.
Light scratches, traces of old battles… yet it remained solid.
Suho:
"Your sword won't hold anymore.
This… is better than fighting with something broken."
Aileen looked at the sword, then at him.
She didn't say "thank you."
But her gaze was filled with relief—something warm and silent.
She took the sword and nodded.
Third Wave – Light Novel Style
The kobolds charged first—small, fast, biting at limbs before one could react.
Then came the werewolves…
The fight was no longer a dance.
It was survival.
Aileen fought with the new sword, still adjusting—her strikes less elegant, but more necessary.
Shuang-Yu guarded her back, her movements slower than before, her breath cold and uneven.
Reinhart fell… rose… healed… then charged again.
Kevin fought almost with his teeth—his laughter gone, leaving only a roar.
Emily…
Emily was on the verge of collapse.
One spell… another… then another.
Her mind burned before her body did.
An hour passed.
Then two.
Blood covered the ground.
The sounds faded.
After three hours—
the last werewolf fell.
They stood… or rather, barely remained standing.
They looked at Suho.
He was calm.
Calm in a disturbing way.
As if he did not see what they saw…
as if he was looking toward what was coming.
His instincts had surpassed his age by many stages.
They did not understand.
They did not know what he had endured, nor what had carved such depth into his eyes.
He stepped forward.
His left hand rested on the sheathed sword.
Suho (low, steady voice):
"It seems… I'll step in."
Ding—
Fourth Wave
A mixture of everything before
Total: 2000 monsters
Suho lifted his head.
Suho:
"Stay close together.
Don't split up."
The swarms appeared.
Shadows moved between the trees.
Suho closed his eye.
Breathed.
Deeply.
He took a stance they had never seen before.
Drew his sword.
And vanished.
It wasn't speed.
It was disappearance.
Appearing…
then vanishing between steps.
— Shadow Steps.
He entered the swarms.
But this time—
He was not swinging to survive.
He was… drawing.
Strikes carrying the heat of fire and the cold of ice together.
An impossible fusion.
Reinhart (stunned):
"This… this is absolute madness."
Aileen:
"My style…?"
Shuang-Yu (whispering):
"No… it's both."
Inside Suho's mind—
He saw everything.
Every movement, every angle, every transition.
The focus he entered while watching their battles opened doors that hadn't existed before.
He didn't imitate…
He understood.
He merged.
And advanced.
Wounds accumulated.
Blood flowed.
Yet he did not stop.
The monsters gathered around him.
It wasn't random aggression, but pure instinct—
as if they sensed that this boy was the heart of the storm and rushed to extinguish him before he devoured them.
One point.
There—where fangs and claws intertwined, where roars mixed with the cracking earth.
He jumped.
High.
Not a leap of escape, nor a desperate charge…
but a deliberate ascent, like mounting an execution platform.
A solemn moment.
Suspended between sky and earth.
Beneath him, the land swarmed with distorted life, screaming and waiting.
In that instant, Suho seemed suspended between two worlds.
With a smoothness that contradicted the violence of the scene, he returned his sword to its sheath.
The soft click echoed louder than all the roars below.
He moved his hands.
Slowly.
As if kneading the very air.
Everything he had left…
Every drop of mana,
every ounce of focus,
every memory,
every pain—
poured out.
Mana screamed.
Not a sound heard by ears, but a sensation that pierced bones, raised goosebumps, and crushed the chest until suffocation.
The terrifying presence—
manifested behind him once more.
A dense, incomplete shadow, as if reality itself refused to acknowledge it—yet could not deny it.
Then—
Upside down in the sky, his body falling, hair defying gravity—
He extended his hand.
—
It descended.
Not a sphere.
Not a blade.
It was condensed void—a transparent black straight line that split the air as if the sky itself had cracked.
It struck…
the heart of the gathered mass.
For a single second—
Everything fell silent.
Then—
The world collapsed.
The sound was not an explosion, but a rupture.
As if the earth screamed at last after its resistance broke.
When the dust cleared—
The sight was—
truly majestic.
A massive circular crater nearly eighty meters wide,
the ground violently polished, as if a meteor had fallen.
Dismembered corpses,
others… without wounds,
but severed—
as if leaves cut cleanly in a perfect circle.
No splattered blood.
No chaos.
Only… absolute execution.
Nearly two hundred monsters fell in a single strike.
The boy landed.
Calmly.
His knees bent slightly, but he steadied himself.
A thin line of blood slipped from the corner of his mouth.
Internal bleeding.
The mana pressure had exceeded the limit.
He did not wipe it away.
He raised his head.
His companions stared at him.
No one spoke.
There was no applause, no cheers.
Only…
heavy admiration,
silent awe,
and a vague sense that they had witnessed something not meant to be seen at this age.
It was a scene…
beyond words,
beyond easy comprehension.
The boy stood straight.
Drew a single breath.
Then said, as if speaking of something trivial—like a move in a game or a step in training:
"Next… is my turn."
And in that moment, they all realized—
What stood before them
was no longer just a teammate.
Nor merely an academy student.
But…
something walking steadily toward a path far more dangerous than they had imagined.
End of the chapter.