Chapter 239: Sun’s anger
Students laughed as they slumped down, trading complaints about sore legs, blistered feet, or the absurdity of Sun’s theatrics. A few even dared mimic his pompous tone, prompting muffled chuckles. The soldiers who’d been ordered to "oversee" them shared wry smiles, clearly more impressed by the students’ performance than they would admit out loud.
Jae, sitting with Elise and Tirel near the fire, let the warmth soak into him. For once, things felt... right. The mission was done. They had proven themselves. He didn’t need to clash with Sun today.
"Don’t look so proud," Tirel teased, nudging his arm. "You’ll puff up and float away."
He smirked back, but didn’t deny it. A rare moment of satisfaction was worth holding on to.
That was when the horn split the air.
Not the clear, measured call of an instructor’s signal. This was jagged, desperate. Alarm.
Jae shot to his feet.
The treeline rippled with movement, and then they came. Bandits — at least thirty of them — bursting into the clearing with steel flashing and voices raised in guttural war cries. Their charge was too raw, too violent to be another test.
Chaos erupted. Students screamed. A pot spilled into the fire, smoke choking the air. Someone stumbled over a tent rope and went sprawling.
Jae’s eyes locked on the raiders. The way they moved, the way their eyes cut through the camp — they weren’t just here for supplies. They were cutting straight toward him.
So it’s me they want.
There was no time to think further. He stepped forward, his weapon forming at his hand, heat shimmering off it in the dim light.
"Form up!" His voice carried like a thunderclap. "Shields front, weapons ready!"
For one heartbeat, students froze, eyes wide, lost in panic. But then something about his tone — firm, commanding, unshakable — broke through. Elise ran to his side without hesitation, mana already flowing around her. Tirel snatched her spear from the dirt. Byun’s shadows curled upward, gathering at his call.
"Move!" Jae shouted again, and this time they obeyed. Students scrambled into a rough shield wall, others bracing behind them.
The bandits hit.
The first clash rattled the camp. Steel rang against steel, cries of pain mixed with shouts of defiance. Jae met the front line head-on, weapon blazing as it tore through a raider’s guard. He pivoted, parrying another strike, then drove forward with a burning thrust that forced the enemy back.
"Elise — left!" he barked.
She answered instantly, her precise strikes slipping through gaps in the enemy line, disrupting their rhythm. Tirel swept her spear in broad arcs, forcing raiders to stumble aside. Byun’s shadows lashed forward, snaring ankles and wrists, tripping attackers before they could strike.
The students rallied. Their initial panic melted into determination under Jae’s lead. Step by step, they held the line, refusing to break.
"Keep pushing!" Jae ordered, his blade cleaving through another bandit. "Don’t let them through!"
The soldiers at the edges, startled at first, now surged forward, impressed despite themselves. They reinforced the students, shouting encouragement, striking down stragglers. The tide of the camp shifted — what had begun as panic was turning into defiance.
But through it all, Jae felt their eyes. Not just wild raiders, not just bloodthirsty men. No — their strikes bent toward him, their formation collapsing and re-forming only to funnel blades toward his chest.
They were after him. Only him.
So that’s how it is, he thought grimly, cutting down another. Word’s already spread too far.
Minutes stretched like hours. The battle raged across the camp, but the line held. Slowly, the raiders’ momentum faltered. Their cries lost strength, replaced by frustration and fear as bodies piled around them.
Finally, a horn blasted from their side. A retreat call.
The bandits disengaged in ragged groups, dragging their wounded back into the treeline. Within moments, they were gone, leaving only their dead behind.
The camp fell silent.
Then the cheers rose.
"Jae!" a student shouted, voice hoarse but triumphant.
"Dragonfire!" another cried, raising a fist.
Soldiers clapped his back, saluted with genuine respect. Students gathered around him, some laughing shakily, others too stunned to speak, but all of them looking at him the same way: as the one who had saved them.
Elise’s hand gripped his sleeve, her face pale but her eyes blazing with pride. Tirel leaned on her spear, grinning despite a bloodied lip. Byun said nothing, but the shadows at his feet pulsed, steady and strong.
For the first time since the campaign began, Jae allowed himself a small, exhausted smile.
But the moment shattered.
"Enough!"
Sun strode into the circle, flanked by Fin and the other nobles. His face was white with fury, lips drawn thin. He raised a hand for silence, and though the cheers didn’t die instantly, they faltered under his glare.
"You disobeyed orders," he said coldly, his voice cutting through the camp. "You acted without command, risking the entire company."
The words dropped like stones.
Jae turned, disbelief etched across his face. "Disobeyed? They would have torn through us if I waited—"
"Silence!" Sun snapped. His nobles sneered in agreement. "Do not twist recklessness into heroics. You were ordered to hold position until directives were given. Instead, you made yourself the center, throwing our ranks into chaos."
Students glanced between them, uncertain. Soldiers shifted uneasily, their respect for Jae clashing with the authority of the prince.
Elise’s fists clenched. "That’s not true! If Jae hadn’t acted—"
"Be quiet," one of Sun’s companions cut in sharply. "You’ll not speak against the prince."
Jae’s grip on his weapon tightened. He wanted to spit back, to strip away Sun’s hollow words. But he saw the hesitation in the eyes of the crowd, the way the narrative was already bending. The truth was drowning under titles.
He exhaled slowly, forcing himself still.
Sun’s eyes gleamed as he took in the silence. "This will be reported. And no amount of theatrics will hide what you are: a reckless commoner drunk on power."
He turned, his nobles trailing behind, their laughter faint but cruel.
The cheers were gone. What lingered was silence, heavy with doubt.