Chapter 238: 238. Camaraderie
At the far edge of the deathfield. Against not one but two writhing Deathworms, a young man stood unshaken, his presence as sharp as the blade in his hands.
His hair, silvery-white, glistened faintly beneath the dying light of the horizon, and his eyes carried a frosted stillness that seemed to make even the air itself wary of disturbing him—Leon.
Suspended above the ground, his form barely disturbed the air currents. In his grip was a sword of glacial elegance, its edge shimmering with a pale, crystalline frost that wept cold into the surrounding atmosphere. Even at a distance, it seemed to sing with freezing intent.
Swish— Swish—
Two sharp arcs cut across the air as Leon swung, his movements economical and precise. From the edge of his blade, crystalline shards surged forth, streaking through the open space with relentless speed. They howled through the deathfield like shards of winter, whistling toward their grotesque targets.
The Deathworms shrieked.
Screeechhhhhhhh! Screeechhhhhh!!
The sound was ugly, a piercing reverberation that clawed at the ears. The crystals embedded into their armored hide, detonating into layers of condensed frost that spread across their thick skin like shackles.
Their hulking bodies writhed in futility, each segment locking under the glacial weight until the massive creatures were rooted in place, immobilized in a prison of Leon’s making.
But Leon was not done.
His gaze deepened, and for a moment, the white sheen of his irises drowned in something far older, far more incomprehensible. His eyes shimmered—not with mere power, but with the cold infinity of the cosmos. A galaxy compressed into pupils, infinite and unrelenting.
And then, he cut.
One simple slice. The blade didn’t strike flesh. It didn’t even need to. He carved through the space in front of him, and reality itself obeyed.
The result was catastrophic.
The Deathworms convulsed, their bodies shuddering violently before they fragmented—shorn apart into thousands upon thousands of perfect, cleanly divided pieces.
Thirty feet of grotesque mass reduced to scraps of meat that even scavenger insects would turn away from. The law of space had been discarded, left irrelevant before the dominion of his blade.
For Leon, the concept of space was not a rule, not a boundary—it was a mere suggestion. And whether to accept or reject it rested solely in his hands.
When the last chunk of mangled flesh fell to the corrupted soil, silence settled. The galactic light in his eyes ebbed away. They returned to their usual pallid hue, cold and aloof, betraying no ripple of exertion.
Leon lowered himself back to the ground, landing with casual grace. Dust clung faintly to his attire, but with a few fluid motions of his hand, he brushed it away.
Then, he walked. His pace was steady, unhurried, his gaze already shifting ahead toward two distant silhouettes that had watched everything unfold.
Evelyn and Celeste.
The two stood at what they deemed a safe distance, their figures still and watchful as the echoes of the battle died away. Leon raised his hand in a casual wave before closing the gap.
"Hey," he called out, his tone calm, almost indifferent, though his eyes were already scanning the horizon for any unseen movement. "Sorry it took so long. The sun’s already setting—we should get back to the base. The others might’ve reached there by now."
Celeste exhaled sharply, turning her back without so much as a second glance at the carnage. "Yeah. We should. There’s no point wasting time here." Her words were clipped, practical, and she began walking without waiting.
Evelyn followed quietly. She said nothing, her expression unreadable.
Leon scratched the back of his head with faint awkwardness, then trailed behind them. He didn’t push further.
On their way back, the group of three inevitably encountered the rest. Familiar figures emerged from the haze of the battlefield: Zyon, Art, Amelia, Freya, and Lilith.
The moment their silhouettes became clear, Lilith’s eyes brightened, wide and glittering. An unrestrained gasp burst from her lips, her voice far too loud for the somber atmosphere.
"YES! YES! We found them already! Now—now let’s get back immediately!!"
The others froze.
No one shared her enthusiasm. Instead, a field of flat, judgmental stares crashed down on her all at once, suffocating in their quiet weight.
Lilith faltered under the barrage. Her excitement withered in an instant, her lips twisting into a pout as she shrank in on herself. With a huff, she turned away dramatically, crossing her arms and refusing to acknowledge them further.
"Why did you guys come here? We were just about to head back ourselves," Leon asked, his usual cheerfulness lacing his words.
Freya shook her head lightly, strands of her blonde hair catching the sunlight. "Yeah, we figured as much. But still... just in case you’d need any help, we decided to check."
"Oh?" Leon’s eyes gleamed with a teasing spark. "That’s nice of you. But tell me—" his grin sharpened just a little, "—is it because of the accident that happened yesterday? The extra care, I mean?"
The playful jab hit its mark. Freya’s lips parted as if to deny it, but no words came out. She flinched ever so slightly, her hesitation betraying everything Leon needed to know. Her silence was a confession in itself.
Yesterday’s ordeal still lingered fresh in all their minds. Leon, reckless as ever, had decided to take on four Deathworms by himself.
Against all odds, he’d held his ground, cutting through three of them with his relentless, wild style. But the last worm, cornered and desperate, had lunged not at him—but at Evelyn and Celeste.
For one fleeting heartbeat, it had seemed like disaster. But Leon had slaughtered the creature without remorse, its screech cut short in a haze of blood and steel. Victory, yes—but the dread that gripped Evelyn and Celeste as they realized how close they had come had left a lasting scar.
Leon scratched the back of his head now, sheepish. "It was my fault in the first place. I shouldn’t have been that reckless." He let out a long sigh, shoulders drooping. "Haahhh... anyway, all I can do is promise I’ll try not to pull that kind of stunt again. But—"
"No."
Art’s voice cut through his words, firm as steel. He stepped forward, eyes steady on Leon. "Evelyn and Celeste will stay with you. And it’s not just for protection." His gaze flicked to the girls briefly, then back to Leon.
"They need to develop an instinct for danger—situations like yesterday, unexpected and raw, are what teach it best. And you—" his voice hardened, "—you need to learn about cooperation. Your reckless behavior, your lone-wolf attitude... it’ll harm you more than you think. You might think it’s cool, heroic even, but trust me—" Art’s eyes narrowed, "—it isn’t."
The cheer in Leon’s face dimmed. His eyes shadowed for a moment, the weight of Art’s words pressing against something he didn’t want to face. But then, with a shrug, he brushed it off.
"I get it. Okay. But everyone has their way of dealing with things, don’t they?" His tone was sharper than before, but calm, almost too calm. "You yourself have a pretty well-hidden personality, Art."
Art’s jaw tightened. His eyes narrowed into a glare that could have sliced stone. Leon didn’t flinch—he only tilted his head, meeting that gaze with an easy, defiant shrug.
"See? The point is," Leon continued, voice steady, "everyone’s got to do what they’ve got to do. I know that. But it’s not essential for all of us to follow the same path. We can carve our own. I’m not saying fighting solo is the best possible course of action—but for me? Yes, it definitely is."
He took a deliberate step closer, closing the space between them until his gaze locked with Art’s, unwavering. "And it’s not just about me. It’s about the people near me. They’ll get hurt because of how I act. And I know you wouldn’t want that... would you?"
For a moment, silence stretched. Then—Art’s lips curled into a slow smile. He reached out and patted Leon’s shoulder firmly. "Great. Truly great." His smile shifted, almost wistful. "But one day, you’ll understand why cooperation and teamwork matter."
He turned his back then, his voice carrying over his shoulder. "And for the record—I’m a lone wolf too. But unlike you, I’m a wolf who knows how to run with a pack... and lead one."
Leon chuckled under his breath. "I’m sure you do."
The tension hung thick in the air, every word between them echoing in the ears of the others. The girls exchanged glances, the unspoken weight of their words pressing against their hearts.
It was Zyon who broke the heaviness. He stepped forward, his easy smile in place as he draped an arm across both Leon and Art’s shoulders.
"Alright, enough of this. Chill out, guys." He gave each of them a friendly shake. "No need to get this pent up over something trivial. Let’s just head back and relax."
Art and Leon shared a long look, a silent conversation sparking between them. Then, almost at the same time, they both smiled.
Art looped his arm around Leon’s neck in mock camaraderie and gave his gut a playful jab with his fist. "Listen to the big guy here. No more fights. Especially verbal ones—they ruin the mood."
Leon raised an incredulous brow. "Oh, wow. You’ve got some nerve saying that, you shameless bastard. You’re the one who started it."
Art only grinned cheekily and kept walking, his arm still locked around Leon’s neck, dragging him forward with brotherly roughness.
From behind, the ladies watched the trio—Art, Leon, Zyon—bickering, laughing, and walking together. Despite the sharp words and heavy truths shared moments ago, the sight of them brought warmth. A soft smile tugged at their lips, each one silently relieved.