ushernet Chapter 782: Lurking Dangers
Chapter 782: Lurking Dangers
Chapter 782: Lurking Dangers
But none of that truly concerned him.
The point was simple-this event, this feat, would carve a reputation for him. One so undeniable that overtaking the student council would be easier than ever.
A Sage, terrifying and dangerous, standing at the helm of the academy's highest student authority-what greater honor was there?
But he wasn't naive.
This revelation, this monumental shift, would ripple outward, stirring reactions he could not yet predict.
And yet, in the grander scheme of things...
Everything still existed within his control.
And why go through all the trouble?
'Just a kind gesture for the man who sent me into a hellscape.'
That was all.
He wanted to stand atop everything Rughsbourgh had built, to be the first face the man saw upon his return.
It was just a kind gesture.
A poetic one.
And yet... this? This was more important than even that.
Which was why he chose to go for it.
And so far, the journey has proven to be far more interesting than expected.
Perhaps, by its end, he would find something different-something he had never possessed before.
Something that would begin to change him.
A sigh finally slipped past his lips as he turned his gaze toward the girl.
"Why else?" he mused, his voice calm yet weighted.
"To find passion."
Roma jolted slightly, her mind yanked back to the words they had exchanged on the day the mercenaries died.
Her breath hitched. She lowered her head, heat rising to her face, covering it in quiet embarrassment.
Northern's voice crawled out again-measured, even.
"What about you?"
She tensed.
"Of all people, you should be the last person on this voyage."
His gaze sharpened.
"And then there's the fact that you were sneaking around the departure site the day before."
A pause.
"So you're definitely up to something."
His eyes bore into her, unabated.
"What is your reason for going to Lithia-despite the dangers it holds?"
She was silent for a few moments, her fingers tracing slow, absent-minded circles over the wooden crates beneath her. Then, softly, her voice slipped through the still air-graceful, deliberate.
"Do you know what's in these crates?"
Northern's gaze flicked in her direction, then toward the crates she sat upon, before dismissing both with a glance away.
"Don't know. Don't care."
"When you say something..." Her breath hitched. "What exactly are we talking about?"
She swallowed.
"What kind of monster?"
Northern stretched both arms overhead, his muscles flexing as he twisted his torso sideways, easing the tension from his body. Then, with a glance at Roma, he offered a small, knowing
smile.
"It's quite a big one," he mused, his tone almost casual. "Not as dangerous as the last... so I'll
go take care of it."
He paused.
For a moment, his gaze drifted, unfocused. Something flickered in his expression-subtle,
yet telling.
Then, a frown creased his features.
His attention snapped toward the travelers.
"Is the influx of monsters usually this insane?"
The woman among the Drifters responded first, her voice steady, measured.
"Not usually, Sir Sage. In fact, things were far more subdued in this area... until recently."
Her eyes darkened with memory.
"We started noticing something strange-monsters moving in the same direction. Then, one
day, a horde overran our town."
She exhaled, the weight of loss pressing into her words.
"We lost the thousands... and the rest of us...We lost them to the Shadow Storm."
Northern's gaze lingered on her, studying her closely. A beat of silence passed before he
spoke.
"So that means..." his voice trailed, but his conviction didn't.
"Something is definitely wrong."
"Yes, Sir." The voice that followed belonged to the tattooed Drifter.
He nodded grimly before continuing, his hands moving expressively as he spoke.
"Usually, field monsters are aggressive, but disorganized. They lack the coordination
monsters exhibit inside a rift."
He shook his head.
"Different species of monsters shouldn't be moving together. It goes against every instinct
they have. I've never seen it happen before-not like this."
Northern studied him.
The man's words carried certainty, but more than that, they carried fear-not the kind that clouded judgment, but the kind that came from witnessing something unnatural.
As he listened, Northern's fingers drifted to his chin, his touch slow, deliberate.
A sage's grace.
A warrior's contemplation.
And in the silence that followed, the weight of an undeniable truth settled over them all.
Something was coming.
Something far worse than just a stray monster.