"Hey, you two? What are you planning? Your partner flew away. What did that mean? Are you going against our commands?"
Kant anxiously asked, glaring at their featureless masks. He narrowed his eyes, desperately trying to connect the pieces that might give him an inkling of their true motives, yet there was no logical answer he could find. With a sharp flick of his wrist, a knife materialized out of thin air, gripped tightly in his right hand.
Before Vidyut could formulate a reply, Kant moved. In a blur of motion, he closed the distance to Nitya, grabbed her arm, and violently pulled her toward him, pressing the cold steel of the blade directly against her throat.
"Ahh… What are you doing?" Nitya asked calmly, though a deep irritation flared in her chest.
She felt absolutely no fear, not even the slightest tremor, despite the blade resting against her skin. She simply didn't like Kant's arrogant behavior.
"Sir Kant, what is the meaning of this?" Nitya questioned him again.
She had been forcefully controlling her anger from the very beginning of the night. When they had planned this infiltration, she had been left out of the core strategy, and there had been zero teamwork between them. After that, Kruti had completely shocked her by abandoning the group and running away.
She had already decided to rely solely on herself. She had also stopped expecting any competent assistance from Vidyut.
And now, this bastard even dares to touch me with his dirty Authority.
Breathers had always been deeply disgusted by the Cultivation Realm. In the eyes of a Breather, Cultivators had no true passion or identity of their own. While their veins utilized a similar breathing system, Breathers believed in forging the consciousness of their own inner selves, refining their own unique souls into power. Cultivators, on the other hand, merely accumulated sensations and energy from the surrounding world—Nature—which was filled with dirt, mixed qualities, and recycled intent. Cultivators were parasites; they had no true personality of their own.
Because of this, it was incredibly hard for a Breather to control their innate disgust toward Cultivators. It was the exact reason Nitya's skin crawled the moment Kant grabbed her.
Though it was difficult to sense another's Breathing Consciousness in this chaos, she could feel something inherently wrong. Kant was funneling his energy into the knife, and the polluted sensation of his Cultivation made her want to vomit simply from having it so close to her neck.
"You bastard! I know you two have a connection with that new Breather!" Kant shouted past her at Vidyut, his knife still pressed against Nitya's neck.
A thin, crimson line of blood trickled down her skin.
"Ouch…" Nitya murmured flatly.
"I know you can find her and take her with you. So lead me to her right now, or I'm going to kill this one!" Kant threatened.
Vidyut stared at Kant from a distance, his eyes fixed on the hostage situation and the wider chaos unfolding around them. The battle was gradually turning in Dhyan's favor. The Knight Colony was winning, though they were sustaining injuries in the process. Vidyut analyzed the shifting odds, slightly frowning at Kant's ultimatum.
Nitya, however, was growing increasingly irritated. Kant was completely ignoring her, arrogantly believing he could handle her with ease. It was too obvious, but she could see the tactical opportunity in his blind spot. His attention was entirely focused on Vidyut, and he wasn't even considering the threat she posed.
Kant was entirely unaware of her true strength.
His hand was already subconsciously loosening its grip. His knife had barely damaged her physical body, automatically resisted by her passive Breathing Authority. His other arm was wrapped tightly around her from behind, almost as if he were hugging her, but she had already calculated the exact angle to break free.
The knife could still be a problem if she moved too slowly, but her specific Breathing Authority allowed her to control the healing process of her own consciousness and flesh. It was the very reason she had been able to assist Yug so many times in the past.
For all intents and purposes, she was practically immortal.
Her left hand was completely free. She clenched it into a tight fist, bent her arm at a strict ninety-degree angle, and drew her elbow back. Her eyes remained locked on Vidyut. She couldn't see his expression behind the mask, but she didn't care.
"Sir Kant, you should think before—"
BANG!
She violently smashed her elbow directly into Kant's cheek. The sudden, brutal impact completely shattered his grip, and she instantly darted backward, putting distance between them.
"Get the fuck away from me, you disgusting bastard."
"…taking action against us," Vidyut finished his own warning in a whisper, but the words were drowned out.
Vidyut's attention snapped between Nitya and Kant. They had already separated. Nitya had successfully broken free, yet Kant had barely flinched. There wasn't even a single scratch on his face; it was as if her physical attack had been completely absorbed by his Cultivation aura.
Vidyut urgently turned his gaze toward the surrounding battlefield, checking whether their little confrontation had drawn any unwanted attention.
He remained hovering in the air, analyzing the perimeter. His stomach dropped. A few eyes were already watching them, and that changed everything. The surrounding Cultivators were neither allies nor enemies—they were predators. The situation had just tangled itself into a fatal knot, and Vidyut's head began to throb as he desperately calculated every possible escape route.
Sneha was already out of the equation. Kruti had abandoned them. And, most importantly, they still had the lethal Breath Marks binding their souls.
"You bloody, disgusting man! How dare you touch me?! Who gave you permission? Are you out of your mind, looking down on me?!" Nitya shouted, making absolutely no effort to hide her disgust or her true nature.
Breathers were prideful by nature, and they rarely accepted the touch of anyone outside their own kind. To Nitya, Kant's touch alone was an unforgivable insult.
"Hey, who are you two? Or should I say, who are you four?" Kant spoke calmly, factoring Kruti and Lavanya into their mysterious group.
His words resonated loudly enough to draw the attention of the surrounding combatants.
Kant had a hunch. They were far too calm for a situation like this, and their Cultivation Realms were concealed far too sharply. He had briefly suspected they might actually be Breathers, but he had dismissed the thought. No Breather would willingly walk into a lion's den just to save another. It defied their selfish nature.
"We agreed with one another that we would hide our identities. I have no reason to reveal our names, realms, or anything else about us," Vidyut projected smoothly. "If you truly wish to know our identities, then you must promise us absolute protection first."
Vidyut was desperately stalling. There were already too many ears listening, the crowd's bloodthirsty curiosity drawn toward the confrontation. It was becoming impossible to keep their identities hidden. Kant had already begun to suspect the truth.
"Shut up, you lowly Pursuer. You think you can trick us with that dirty mouth?" Kant shouted, his voice echoing over the rooftop.
The word "Pursuer" changed everything.
"You think you're the only ones born smarter?! Hahahaha! You Pursuers think you can trick anyone?!" Kant laughed, a cruel, mocking sound.
The surroundings froze as his words spread through the area. People abruptly stopped fighting each other. A few minor skirmishes continued, but it didn't take long for every single person on the rooftop to realize exactly what Kant had just revealed.
"Dream on, you 'Pursuer.' You think you won't get caught? Hahaha! You two are completely surrounded! Just surrender to us, and we'll be gentle with you."
Kant could hardly suppress his vicious grin. His heartbeat quickened as he stared at the two masked figures, his blood surging with adrenaline.
All the Cultivators lifted their heads in sheer awe, looking at Vidyut and Nitya as though they were witnessing a miracle. Some were still bleeding heavily from the faction war, yet their greedy eyes remained fixed squarely on the two Breathers.
Absolute silence fell in the air.
It was as though the Cultivators were looking at the one thing they had been missing their entire lives.
"Are they... the ones every Cultivator has wished for?" one of the men whispered in awe.
In the eyes of a Cultivator, a Breather was worth far more than money. They were a supreme resource—a living, breathing core that could help a Cultivator break their mortal limits and gain massive Authority. To a normal human, it would be the equivalent of discovering an endless mountain of gold.
Another Cultivator simply nodded, thick saliva gathering at the corner of his lips. He stared at them without blinking, as though afraid that looking away for even a second might make them disappear.
"I have never seen a Conscious Pursuer before," another whispered, his voice trembling. "Seeing them... it only makes me want to consume them more."
The whispers began spreading through the crowd. Pure, unadulterated greed suffocated the remaining air on the rooftop.
In the sky, Vidyut was sweating profusely beneath his mask. Beside him, Nitya stood proudly, her arms folded defiantly across her chest, entirely refusing to back down.
In the distance, both Dhyan and Diya subtly shifted their postures, a strange, overwhelming hunger rising within them as they locked their supreme gazes onto the two trapped Breathers.