Chapter 252: Jae delivers victories
Tempered by the image of Jae standing at the center, immovable.
A cadet faltered at the edge of the line, his spear trembling so violently it looked more like a reed caught in the wind than a weapon. His lips parted, breath coming shallow, frozen between fight and flight. A scout saw the weakness and lunged, curved blade flashing cold in the torchlight.
Before the boy could even flinch, Jae blurred forward in a streak of embers, his presence snapping through the mist like a whipcrack. His fist — cloaked in heat and weight — slammed into the scout’s chest with a crack that echoed across the camp. The enemy flew back, landing in a twisted heap that did not rise again.
The cadet gaped at him, wide-eyed and pale. Jae only smirked, brushing his hair back with his free hand as though nothing about the moment was remarkable. His voice came calm, steady, as if the chaos around them was nothing more than background noise.
"Stand tall," he told the boy. "I can’t do this alone."
Something shifted behind the cadet’s eyes — a flicker of shame, then resolve. His trembling stilled. He straightened his spine, both hands locking firm around the spear. The fear wasn’t gone, not completely, but it was tempered now, pulled tight like steel drawn across a whetstone.
Byun whistled low beside them. "You and your inspirational farmboy speeches. Careful, Jae — keep that up and they’ll start writing songs about you." He sent another coil of shadow whipping out, the black tendril snapping around a scout’s throat. It tightened until the man gagged, eyes bulging, before collapsing in the dirt. Byun grinned, shaking off the shadow like loose dust. "See? Poetry in motion. My fans deserve verses too."
The cadets around them laughed. The sound was shaky, thin, but it was real. In that laughter, the rigid ice of fear cracked. Their breaths came steadier. Their shields held firmer. Their hands no longer shook quite so much.
Minutes dragged like hours. Each clash of steel stretched into eternity. Scouts darted in and out, slashing, probing, never pressing long enough to be caught but always enough to bleed. But whenever they drove too deep, whenever the cadet line faltered, Jae was there.
His flaming blade cut swathes through the mist, molten arcs that lit the night like falling stars. The heat warped the air around him, smoke and cinders following his every motion. Ember Step carried him faster than eyes could track — one moment at the front, the next behind a failing shield line, his smirk returning with every strike.
He didn’t speak often, but when he did, it carried. "Hold the line. Spears forward." Or, quieter still, to the cadets nearest him: "Steady your breath. Focus." Simple words, but the camp bent around them.
Byun matched his stride, shadows spilling wide, snagging ankles, wrists, blades, anything that slipped past Jae’s fire. He fought like a dancer, grin never leaving his face, tossing quips into the storm as if the battlefield were a stage built for his amusement.
"Careful with the fire, Jae," he called, pulling a scout face-first into the dirt. "You’ll roast us all before you roast them."
"Keep talking, Byun," Jae replied flatly, spinning his blade in a molten arc. The scout in front of him dissolved into smoke and ash. His smirk tugged wider. "At least then you’re useful."
The rhythm took root. Shields braced, spears thrust, magic flared like sparks against kindling. The cadets who had moments ago panicked now moved in unison. The chaos hardened into something almost like order, crude but functional, a wall that braced against the storm.
The scouts realized too late. Their probing strike, meant to break a line of half-trained students, had been met with something else entirely — a wall of fire, steel, and will.
One of them broke, turning to flee into the dark. Byun’s shadow lashed out and snared his ankle, yanking him down hard. "Leaving so soon? Rude," he said, his grin sharpening as the man clawed at the dirt. "We haven’t even finished introductions."
The scout screamed — until Jae’s flaming blade cut the sound short.
And then, almost as suddenly as it began, the fight snapped. The surviving scouts scattered, melting into the mist and trees, leaving only their dead and dying behind.
The battlefield fell still. Only the crackle of smoldering wood and the faint hiss of cooling steel filled the silence. Smoke curled up from scorched earth, casting the camp in a haze of grey. Blood stained the dirt. The night stank of ash and iron.
The cadets stood frozen, panting, staring at the scene — at Jae most of all. His flaming blade flickered once more before dissolving into nothing, vanishing as if it had never been real. He rubbed the back of his neck, smirk tugging sheepishly, as though embarrassed by the attention.
But no one missed what had just happened.
Byun clapped him hard on the shoulder, his grin wide enough to split his face. "Well, that was exciting. Midnight cardio. You’re welcome, everyone." His tone was far too light for the carnage around them, but it worked. The words sparked scattered laughter — thin, shaky, but laughter nonetheless. Relief bleeding through the tension.
Then the whispers began.
"They would’ve broken us if he hadn’t—"
"Sun gave the orders, but it was Jae who—"
"Did you see the way he moved? We followed without even thinking—"
The instructors barked, trying to snap the cadets back into formation, ordering them to check the wounded and reset defenses. Sun himself appeared, striding forward with his swords strapped across his back. His scowl was etched sharp, his voice louder than any man’s should be at this hour. He commanded shields reset, healers summoned, the perimeter doubled.
His words were clear. His orders were sound. His presence was heavy.
But the whispers didn’t stop.
They lingered in the smoke, spreading like embers carried on the wind. Whispers that weighed more than orders ever could.
Sun gives orders... but Jae delivers victories.