Rex blinked at the sudden question, confusion pooling like mist without a wind.

But he answered fast, like a spark catching dry grass. “Of course not!”

Shelika tilted her head like a curious sparrow, a question in her eyes. “Really? Then why zone out?”

“I wasn’t zoning out.” Rex glanced at her, then fixed his gaze ahead like a drawn bow. “Just surprised.”

“Surprised? Why?” Her tone stayed light, but her eyes combed the trees like a net. The deep forest breathed miasma; its quiet felt like velvet over hidden fangs.

They had already felt a dozen feral gazes pricking their backs, thorns under silk.

They kept talking, easy as drifting leaves. Rex paused, then said, “I think you’ve changed.”

He smiled, a bitter curve with a thread of warmth, like sun through rain.

Shelika waved it off. “People change all the time.”

“Often? In what way?”

Her voice shed its lightness, like a bell muffled by cloth. “As knowledge and experience pile up, your sight shifts. When it reshapes how you deal with the world, people feel you’ve changed.”

Rex’s eyes widened, then he laughed, relief like a lamp in fog. “Shelika, that’s sharp. Pretty philosophical.”

She brushed away the weight and let her tone float again. “Since you say this lady has changed, how do you think I’ve changed?”

“Hmm…” Rex wrestled with it, a fish on the line refusing to surface.

Silence held them for a minute, still as pond water. Then he said, “I think you’ve grown gentle.”

“I’m Dark Blood Clan. Calling me gentle’s a backhanded praise.”

Rex didn’t catch the term, but he pressed on, voice steady as stone. “The old you would’ve watched that merchant die.”

Shelika frowned, a petal folding in chill. “I saw it and lent a hand. Is it that big a deal?”

“Of course.” Rex squared up, rules stacking like bricks. “Save this caravan, and more travelers die on this road. Your kindness could kill many people.”

Shelika studied him, brows like small wings, then shifted her tone. “Rex, try another angle. I didn’t save them for kindness or profit.”

“Then for what?”

“Think. Besides us, what’s an ordinary person’s biggest wish?” Her voice fell soft, like dusk on water.

He’d been a knight too long; the answer came slow, like snow melting. “A simple life?”

“Yes. About that.”

Rex nodded, then confusion pooled again. “Even so, how does that tie to what you did?”

“It ties closely.” She breathed the words like mist. “Because someday, I want that life too.”

Rex listened, a long ache drifting like smoke. Confusion lingered, then parted, and relief showed like dawn. “You’re right.”

His face snapped alert, like a hawk sighting prey. He looked ahead.

Whatever he saw, Rex drew his curved blade with a hiss and blink-stepped to shield Shelika.

“Careful!” He raised the blade, voice like a clap.

Shelika saw nothing, but her nerves tightened like bowstrings. “A phantom beast?”

“No. An enemy.” Rex’s tone went iron.

The next heartbeat, a Battle Aura bolt streaked in from far ahead, a line of white fire.

Battle Aura bolts were the signature skill of a Sky Rank Knight— lethal shots cast from distance like thunder thrown by hand.

No question: the attacker was a Sky Rank Knight.

In the gloomy green, the bolt blazed like a falling star.

“Get away from me!” Rex tracked the light and shouted backward.

Shelika obeyed instantly, wings flaring as she vaulted away, like a raven lifting in a gust.

She’d barely opened half a second, only four or five meters between them, when the bolt hit Rex.

Boom.

A Sky Rank bolt carried vast power, a storm packed in iron.

The blast ripped up wind; the shockwave surged like a tide, scything through grass and trees.

The thick forest became a clearing, twenty meters round with the impact as its heart.

Rex held Sky Rank too. Wrapped in his Battle Aura at ground zero, he stood unharmed, like rock under surf.

Seeing the enemy hang back, he edged away, then flashed to Shelika’s side.

Shelika hadn’t fully escaped the blast— she was nine meters out, caught in the shockwave like a leaf in squall.

To Sky Rank Knights, trading Battle Aura bolts was neighborly as knocking on a door.

But Shelika had no Battle Aura. She wasn’t ordinary— her magic was vast— yet her guard came a breath too late.

The explosion blew her off her feet, pain rushing in like cold rain.

Rex lifted her gently from the ground, cradling her as her eyes opened slow, like dawn. “Shelika, are you okay?!”

She held his gaze, voice thin as paper. “Not okay… I think three ribs are broken.”

“Damn it!” His heart clenched; he could fix nothing, so he laid her down, flat as calm earth.

“Don’t worry. I’m Dark Blood Clan, of a queen’s bloodline. This will heal fast. Go fight.”

“You… be careful,” Rex said, feeling heavy as stone.

She let out a soft laugh. “That line should be mine. Go.”

Rex said nothing. He gave Shelika one long look, then closed his eyes, rose, and turned away.

Once he was sure his beloved couldn’t see, his sunny face went dark, like a lamp snuffed. Anger pressed down until his aura chilled, killing intent spreading like winter.

He walked toward the enemy, each step a drumbeat.

The enemy who’d watched from afar finally closed in, a shadow bursting from the brush into bright afternoon sun.

His shape came clear: a fully armed human knight in Heavenly Spirit Empire magestone armor.

His face was plain, a worn middle age. But his Battle Aura bled power, like a blade unsheathed.

No doubt— the Sky Rank Knight who’d struck.

Hatred and grief carved his features; indigo Battle Aura surged with endless loathing, like storm clouds bruising a sky.

He called out, voice like gravel, “I’ll butcher you Dark Spirits invading Nordland.”