Chapter 39: In Sync
"Haaah? What’s this?!"
The sudden voice made Ethan glance up. From between the scattering adventurers, Aina strode over with a sly grin plastered across her face. Her armor clinked faintly with every step, still dusted with ash and faint scorch marks from the earlier fight.
"You!" she jabbed a finger toward Ethan. "What did you do to our silent and aloof Lirael? What sort of magic did you use on her?" Her tone was half-accusation, half-tease, but her eyes sparkled with genuine curiosity.
Lirael, who had been quietly smiling by Ethan’s side, stiffened. "W–what are you talking about?" she tried to protest, but Aina was relentless.
"I an, look at her!" Aina continued, gesturing dramatically. "This is the sa Lirael who used to glare at anyone who dared say more than two sentences to her. Now she’s practically glowing just because you’re here."
Before Lirael could form a coback, Maya sauntered in behind Aina, her staff resting lazily on her shoulder. She smirked. "Oh, I’ve heard about this. You know, when a woman ets—"
"Shut it!" Lirael’s voice cracked like a whip, but the deep blush climbing her cheeks completely betrayed her.
Both Aina and Maya burst into giggles, the sound light and unrestrained. The tension of battle had drained from their shoulders, leaving only warmth in their expressions.
"Honestly," Maya said, leaning a little on her staff, "we’re just glad. Watching you two out there today... the way you moved together... It was like seeing the final piece of a puzzle snap into place."
Aina nodded in agreent, crossing her arms. "Yeah. Maybe all you needed was the right partner to bring out your true potential. And it seems you’ve found him."
Lirael glanced at Ethan, lips parting slightly as if to say sothing, but then she looked away, pretending to brush dust off her armor.
Ethan just chuckled, low and amused. "I’ll take that as a complint." He didn’t bother explaining, though in the back of his mind he recalled the system’s note about a certain inherent pull in Lirael’s bloodline. Maybe this was just... natural.
The four of them lingered a mont, exchanging light banter. The wind carried the scent of damp earth and faint iron from the battlefield, mixing with the faint sweetness of healing salves still sared on armor.
Eventually, Aina stretched with a yawn. "Alright, we’ll leave you two alone... Maya, let’s get back to our party before they think we ditched them."
"Try not to get into trouble without us," Maya added with a wink before the two won sauntered off, still chuckling.
Ethan exhaled, shaking his head with a faint smile. "Well... that was peaceful while it lasted."
As if on cue, a heavy set of footsteps thudded closer — steady, purposeful, and carrying the weight of command. The faint tallic clink of armor preceded a deep, familiar voice.
"So," Brad rumbled as he ca into view, his broad shoulders frad against the lingering glow of torches, "I hear you’ve been stealing all the credit out here."
"That’s just bullshit," Ethan said with a faint smirk, sitting upright with support of lirael.
Brad’s grin widened under his beard. "No... truth can’t be hidden when it’s that obvious. You truly bested everyone here — even us B-rankers." His tone wasn’t bitter, just plain, honest acknowledgnt. "Anyway, we’ve finished your part of the calculations. Every ogre, greenskin, and even the Goblin King kill has been tallied under your na."
Ethan opened his mouth to protest, but Brad raised a gauntleted hand to cut him off. "And before you try to refuse the Goblin King’s reward — don’t. Without you, we’d all be lying in a pile sowhere, and we both know it. Plus..." he glanced pointedly at the empty potion vials still tucked at Ethan’s belt, "we saw you burning through so very expensive-looking potions. Consider it payback."
Ethan chuckled and gave a small nod. "Alright... thanks."
Brad’s eyes softened, though his grin didn’t fade. "Really, man... didn’t think the amnesiac bastard I found lying in the road would turn out to be a bloody prodigy."
Lirael blinked and glanced between them. "Amnesiac...?"
Ethan only shrugged with a faint smirk, clearly not in the mood to explain.
"Ah, by the way," Brad continued, his voice rumbling with satisfaction, "rejoice. You’re skipping ranks again. Congratulations on becoming a C-Ranker."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "It’s not final yet, right?"
Brad snorted. "Who’s going to deny the vote of six B-rankers? Unless they want to get their head smashed in." His laugh bood across the camp, drawing a few glances.
Then his tone shifted to sothing almost... earnest. "One last thing — for both of you." He pointed between Ethan and Lirael. "Form a permanent party. I’ve fought alongside veterans for years, and your synergy out there... it was better than most seasoned teams I’ve seen. Don’t waste it. It can save your hides"
Ethan and Lirael exchanged a brief glance — one part surprise, one part unspoken agreent.
"Thanks," they said in unison.
Brad handed over a sturdy leather sack, its weight making Ethan’s arm dip slightly. The faint clink of crystals inside mingled with the dull thump of a few rare loot drops shifting at the bottom.
"Spend it well," Brad said, giving them one last nod before turning away, his heavy boots thudding against the packed earth as he disappeared back toward the main campfire.
When Ethan loosened the drawstring, the firelight caught on the pile of glittering mana crystals, painting their faces in shimring blues and silvers.
Both of them broke into wide grins.
"Not bad," Ethan murmured.
"Not bad at all," Lirael agreed, her voice tinged with rare delight.
---
After a brief stretch of quiet rest, a sharp, commanding voice cut through the camp.
"Pack your things and prepare yourselves! We move out in under thirty minutes!"
The words rippled through the clearing, followed by the scuffle of hurried boots, the rustle of packs being strapped shut, and the tallic clatter of weapons being sheathed. Conversations broke into fragnts, replaced by the sound of a camp coming alive again.
Lirael and Ethan, having little to pack, remained seated side by side near the dying fire. The crackle of the last embers filled the air between them as they simply focused on catching their breath.
When the ti ca to move out, Ethan slowly pushed himself upright — then hesitated, his brows knitting slightly.
Lirael caught the look. "What?"
He gave a small, sheepish smile. "Umm... seems I’m still not walking properly."
Her eyes softened instantly, the faintest blush coloring her cheeks. "...Co here," she said quietly. "I’ll support you."
She stepped close, slipping one arm around his back and offering her shoulder. Ethan eased his arm over her opposite shoulder, his hand brushing the edge of her collar before resting against her upper back. In turn, her hand settled firmly at his waist, warm through the thin layer of his tunic.
Up close, he could feel the subtle rise and fall of her breath, steady and controlled despite the faint flush on her face. Her scent — a mix of leather, faint floral notes, and the tallic tang of battle — lingered between them.
He could even feel her rising heart rate through his enhanced senses but didn’t comnt on it.
Because of the height difference, her head barely reached his collarbone. From a distance, it almost looked like they were walking in a quiet embrace. And it was painfully easy to imagine what would happen if Aina spotted them like this — another rciless round of teasing.
Ethan smirked faintly. "You know, you’re making this look way more couple-like than necessary."
"Shut up," she muttered, though her grip around his waist tightened just slightly, as if to make sure he didn’t falter.
"Mm... not complaining," he replied, letting her guide his steps toward the regrouping adventurers.
The two moved in sync, their shadows stretching side by side in the firelight as the camp bustled around them — a quiet, unspoken connection holding steady amidst the chaos of departure.
The column moved at a steady but sluggish pace. Many adventurers were limping, so leaning heavily on comrades, while others bore hastily wrapped bandages still seeping faint traces of red. The air carried the mixed scents of dried blood, poultice herbs, and the damp earth their boots pressed into.
For Ethan and Lirael, the slower pace was a small blessing. It let them keep stride with the group without straining themselves, her steady presence at his side ensuring he didn’t lag behind.
Every now and then, his steps would falter — a slight stumble, the result of his still-frayed motor control — but each ti, Lirael’s arm around his waist would tighten just enough to balance him. She didn’t say anything about it, only gave a brief, sidelong glance to make sure he was steady again before they continued.
Their quiet rhythm carried them forward, step by careful step, as the caravan of battered fighters wound its way along the dirt path toward safety.
With the expert guide of elf archer, they soon arrived at the opening of the cave—
The bright light blinded them with sudden exposure....
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