Chapter 17: Chapter 16 - Speed

“I said hold on, didn’t I? Don’t be rude!” the girl called out.

Rein hastily redirected some of his Pneuma to his eyes, sharpening his vision.

The girl looked young, around his age, if he were Human and not Celestial. Her dark hair was tied in a high ponytail, matching the tone of her outfit: sleek, tight, sleeveless black clothing that stopped at mid-thigh, clinging to her humble frame. Unlike her armored allies, she wore nothing for protection, leaving much of her golden-brown skin exposed. Yet she stood there, arms crossed, as if nothing around her could possibly pose a threat.

A belt wrapped around her hips, holding eight sheathed blades. Rein guessed she probably had more on her back.

So, that’s her weapon of choice? Not a sword. Not a bow. Just… blades. So many of them.

How would she even use that many? And with no armor?

Was she arrogant, or simply powerful enough that defense wasn’t necessary?

Either way, he would find out soon.

“General Syderis… thank goodness,” Paion breathed, his voice heavy with relief, as though a great burden had just lifted.

“Shut up, Paion. I’m not talking to you,” the girl—Syderis—snapped, her expression souring. The poor human flinched and instinctively took a step back.

Her gaze drifted past him to the men sprawled on the ground, Morin’s handiwork. Some still groaned in pain, others lay completely unconscious. Then her eyes settled on their Half-Giant leader, equally unmoving, equally defeated.

This is bad.

If they were allies—and judging by Paion’s relieved reaction, they definitely were—then retaliation might be coming.

But Rein was caught off guard by what happened next.

Syderis threw her head back and laughed. It was loud, unrestrained, like she’d just heard the funniest joke of her life. Her laughter rang across the field, strange and jarring in the thick tension that still hung in the air. When it finally died down, she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, grinning.

“You two really did a number on that idiot and his thugs,” she said, still smiling. “Why don’t you play with me next?”

“We’re kind of in a hurry, so if you could let us pass, I’d really appreciate it,” Rein replied, pressing his palms together in an apologetic gesture. “Maybe next time?”

Her smile vanished in an instant.

Rein stiffened. A cold shiver crept down his spine.

Syderis’s eyes—now sharp, focused, and deadly—locked onto him like a predator spotting prey. She said nothing, but in the silence, everything changed. The playfulness evaporated. In its place was something primal. Hunger. Intensity. Obsession.

It felt as though nothing else existed for her in that moment. Only him.

And Rein had the sudden, unmistakable sense that he was being hunted.

It was the same frenzied stare the Half-Giant had worn just before Morin knocked him out cold. The same hunger that gleamed in the Million Whale’s eyes when they first met.

Was it really because of his Pneuma? Could they smell it, like the whale claimed? Was it its potency, its purity that drew them in? Or were they simply predators drawn to weakness? Drawn to someone they thought could be used, broken, or devoured?

Either way, it sent a chill through him. Every hair on his body stood on end.

Then, in an instant, Rein understood why the woman before him wore no armor.

He blinked, and Syderis vanished.

A blur of dark motion sliced across his vision, her figure little more than a streak trailing shadows. She moved low to the ground, fast and fluid, like wind slicing through narrow cracks. With that kind of speed, who needed defense? She didn’t block. She didn’t brace. She simply wasn’t there when the hit arrived.

Her body was built for speed. Thin, honed, all angles and tension. Any armor would only weigh her down.

Rein blinked again, and her fist was already driving toward his gut.

He couldn’t react in time. Couldn’t dodge. Couldn’t parry.

But he didn’t panic. He didn’t need to.

He trusted Morin.

And as if hearing his unspoken thought, her palm flashed in front of him at the exact moment the strike would’ve landed.

A thunderclap of Pneuma rang out.

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The sound was like concrete smashing into iron, raw, brutal. Wind exploded outward from the collision, sending dust and pebbles scattering. Syderis’s Pneuma-coated fist had met Morin’s equally hardened palm with all the force of a cannon blast.

Rein took a step back behind his sister, recognizing that this wasn’t his fight to join.

Morin launched into a counterattack, unleashing a flurry of punches and kicks, so fast Rein couldn’t tell where one ended and the next began. Syderis met them with a grin, her body weaving and shifting, deflecting some, dodging others. That same playful smile returned to her lips, like she was dancing rather than dueling.

At first, she matched Morin’s pace. Blow for blow. Step for step.

But gradually, the rhythm changed.

Syderis began to fall behind, slightly, then noticeably. A strike slipped past her guard. Then another. And another. Her movements grew tighter, less fluid, forced to defend instead of evade. When she tried to retreat, Morin was already there, closing the gap in an instant, refusing to let up.

Now it was Morin pressing forward with ruthless precision.

Cuts opened on Syderis’s arms. A bruise bloomed along her shoulder. Blood trickled from her lip.

Rein felt a flicker of relief.

Morin was breaking through her Pneuma shield. That meant she could be hurt, meant that Rein’s earlier fear might’ve just been shock, not a recognition of true danger.

But then he looked at her face.

It hadn’t changed. Still calm. Still smiling. Still untouched by the urgency of battle. As if this wasn’t a fight, but a warm-up.

And then there were the blades. Ten of them, neatly tucked into the sheaths at her waist. Unused. Unsheathed. Untouched. Lurking. Waiting.

A quiet, silent threat, like the moment before a storm breaks.

Suddenly, Syderis ducked, folding her body into an almost unnatural, impossible angle, and in the next instant, dust burst into the air between them as her figure vanished.

Morin froze. She scanned the battlefield, her eyes darting in every direction, searching for any trace of movement. But there was nothing.

Then, as the dust began to settle, Syderis reappeared. She was standing several meters back, having leapt away to widen the distance.

Instinct took over. Morin lunged forward—

And stopped cold.

Her eyes widened.

Syderis stood casually, her expression unchanged. But something was different now.

The blades—once sheathed at her belt—were gone.

They hovered in the air between them, their steel tips aimed directly at Morin’s chest.

All ten of them.

How? Rein’s mind raced.

With Ousia? But there’s barely any in this place. If it was, Morin would’ve used it too.

His eyes narrowed.

Don’t tell me… she’s doing it with Pneuma alone?

He tried to make sense of it.

But how could she make them float? Can pneuma even be infused into objects without touching them? Especially ones that heavy?

It didn’t add up.

Is it like how Celestials force their Pneuma into Ousia to create energy blasts?

Questions swirled through Rein’s mind like a storm. For a fleeting moment, the tension of the fight faded, replaced by sheer curiosity. It took everything he had not to shout out every question clawing at his throat about Syderis’ ability. If she weren’t currently trying to kill them, he might’ve run up to her, begged to be her student, and offered friendship on the spot.

But now wasn’t the time. Morin’s safety came first.

“Morin, fall back!” Rein shouted.

She hesitated for a beat, her surprise plain as her eyes flicked from the hovering blades to Syderis. Then she quickly retreated, regrouping by Rein’s side.

A new voice rang out from behind.

“What are you doing here, Syderis? Shouldn’t you be at the catacombs?”

Catacombs?

Rein turned.

There, standing weakly, was the Half-Giant. He was awake, though barely, his face still twisted in pain, one eye shut tight. He leaned heavily on his greatsword, using it like a crutch, his free hand pressed against his injured side.

“Sir!” Paion shouted, immediately rushing to support him.

Syderis smirked. “That’s General Syderis to you, Fomor.”

She gave a casual shrug. “That place gives me the creeps, so I took a break and went for a stroll. Heard some screaming, figured I’d check it out. Aren’t you glad I did? You were about to get wiped out. That thing wouldn’t have been happy with your failure.”

“Don’t call the king that thing, you wench!” Fomor barked, voice strained with pain and pride. “This mission was assigned to me, not you! I’ll take responsibility! These two are mine! Don’t interfere! A stroll? Don’t insult my intelligence. Who strolls from the catacombs all the way out here?!”

The Half-Giant staggered forward, propped up by Paion and the greatsword, fury giving strength to his failing limbs.

Syderis didn’t bother replying.

One of her floating blades answered for her.

It shot past Rein in a blur, the air humming with its speed, then landed with a loud thud as the blunt end struck Fomor squarely on the forehead.

He crumpled.

The blow was so forceful, even Paion, who had been supporting him, was pulled down with the weight of the falling Half-Giant. They hit the ground hard.

Fomor didn’t get up.

No groans, no curses, just silence. Rein was starting to feel sorry for the guy.

“Don’t you dare heal him, Paion,” Syderis barked. “Let him sleep. I don’t need him interrupting again.”

Paion flinched, then gently laid Fomor’s unconscious body on the ground.

“Yes, General,” he said reluctantly, his expression twisted with frustration and guilt. “But… may I at least tend to our men? They won’t get in your way.”

“Go ahead.”

Paion quickly rose to his feet and rushed away from Fomor’s unconscious body, heading toward the wounded soldiers. Some lay still as corpses, others groaned softly, clinging to consciousness through sheer pain.

The blade that had struck Fomor trembled, then lifted from the ground. It hummed back through the air, whistling past Rein before rejoining the circle of nine blades still hovering around Syderis.

A chill crawled down Rein’s spine at the sight.

The odds suddenly felt heavier again. Could the two of them really take her on and win? Could they escape? And even if they did, how would they stop her from simply chasing them down?

With all those doubts swirling in his mind, Rein made a decision. It wasn’t perfect, but it was the best they had. Whether it would work… well, that was a problem for later. They’d just have to adapt as they went.

“Morin,” he whispered, still standing beside him. “You handle the blades. Just dodge and defend, make her focus all of them on you. I’ll deal with her directly.”

He added, “And let me borrow your astral pouch for now. You’ve already granted me access, right?”

“Yes,” Morin answered with a nod.

To confirm, Rein slipped a finger into the pouch’s small opening, and instantly, he felt it: the vast void within. Floating in the strange internal space was the heavy presence of the golden scale, the gentle warmth of the bottled honey, some fruit, and a mess of scattered candy.

Satisfied, he tied the pouch securely to his belt.

“Let’s flank her. You go right. She already knows you’re stronger than me, so she’ll likely focus her blades—probably her strongest weapon—on you. Meanwhile, I’ll do whatever I can to take her down. Go!”

Morin hesitated, her eyes flicking toward Rein, uncertainty tightening her jaw.

“Trust me. I'll be fine.”

With a breath and a nod, she took off, reassured enough to follow his plan.