The subterranean exit of Oakhaven opened into the Valley of Dampness, a marshy wasteland blanketed by a dense fog that barely allowed visibility for a few paces.
The muddy ground threatened to trap their boots with every stride, making progress slow and exhausting.
Haruto walked ahead, navigating by the tactical compass he had improvised using a needle and his own mana.
Aoi followed closely behind, keeping her greatsword unsheathed but pressed against her arm to prevent it from snagging on the underbrush.
“Haruto,” Aoi said, breaking the silence in the language of their former world.
“Old Gid said this world’s system is a refinement trap.
If we stop leveling up through normal means, how will we measure if we’re getting stronger?” “Measuring power through level numbers is precisely the Church’s deception to make people complacent,” Haruto answered without slowing down.
“True magic isn’t a status screen with bar indicators.
It’s vector control and energy compression.
If we master that, it doesn’t matter what level the Church says we are; we’ll cut right through them all the same.” Aoi let out a short laugh, drying it up instantly.
“I like it when you talk like a mad scientist.
Makes this feel more like a game than a suicide mission.” “We aren’t going on a suicide mission,” he said, stopping dead in his tracks and extending an arm to check her momentum.
“We’re surrounded.” The fog around them began to churn.
It wasn’t the wind.
Four figures clad in gray robes and bird-beaked leather masks emerged from the foliage, positioning themselves at the four cardinal points.
“Inquisitorial Crows,” Haruto muttered, recognizing the daggers enchanted with purifying poison they held in their hands.
“The Church’s silent assassins.
They didn’t even wait for dawn.” “They have no patience,” Aoi replied, lowering her stance and accumulating an overwhelming density of spiritual energy around her body.
“Leave the one on the left and the one in front to me.” “No.
This time we execute a crossover pair maneuver,” Haruto corrected, drawing his short sword.
“They expect you to attack head-on while I provide cover.
We’re reversing the roles.
Tactic Three.” Aoi blinked in surprise, but her trust in him was absolute.
The assassin in front lunged forward in a burst of speed, weaving in a flawless zigzag to strike at Haruto’s throat.
But instead of dodging or parrying with his blade, Haruto planted his feet firmly in the mud and cast an acoustic disorientation spell directly into the ground.
BOOM!
A dull detonation of compressed air kicked up a wave of mud and vapor.
The assassin lost his balance for a microsecond mid-air.
That was all Aoi needed.
Appearing not from the front, but from Haruto’s left flank at an absurd speed, Aoi swept her greatsword in a horizontal arc.
The soul compression on her blade cut through the air with a sharp hiss, shattering the assassin’s dagger and crushing his chestplate in a single strike.
The man was hurled into the trees, losing consciousness before he even hit the ground.
Without losing momentum, Haruto ducked beneath Aoi’s arm as she recovered her stance, using his partner’s body as cover.
Springing off Aoi’s knee, he launched himself toward the assassin attempting a rear strike.
CLANG!
Haruto’s short sword clashed against the poisoned dagger.
With a circular flick of his wrist, Haruto redirected the enemy’s force, disarming him in a blink and driving the tip of his blue-mana-infused blade straight into the man’s shoulder, instantly severing his energy channels.
The remaining two assassins retreated a step into the mist, stunned by the seamless synchronization and the utter lack of verbal communication during the exchange.
“What kind of coordination is that…?” one of the Crows whispered, his voice trembling behind his mask.
“It’s the coordination of two people who don’t need words to know what the other will do,” Aoi said, taking a step forward as the crimson aura of her soul illuminated the fog once more.
“If you want to make it back to the Vatican alive, I suggest you run right now.”