26. Another Fucking Ambush

Chapter 26: Another Fucking Ambush

You ever wake up from a nightmare so vivid that you almost kill someone? No? Just me?

I bolted upright, sword in hand, ready to murder the shit out of whoever dared disturb my peaceful slumber. My blade sliced through the morning air, stopping just shy of someone's delicate neck.

The someone in question? Neralia.

The look on her face was a mix of terror and indignation, her emerald-green eyes wide as saucers. "Eek!" she squeaked, sounding like a startled kitten. For a split second, I thought I might've actually turned her into one.

Behind her, Lashley shot to his feet, his hand already on the hilt of his sword. "What the fuck are you doing?" he roared.

"Relax the fuck up," I snapped, lowering my sword. "I was dreaming about last night's ambush. Thought we were under attack again. My bad."

Neralia pressed a hand to her chest, her breathing shaky. "You call that a bad dream?" she said, her voice laced with noble condescension. "If that's how you wake up, I dread to think what you're like when someone actually tries to kill you."

Her quip would've stung if she didn't look like she was still trying to find her voice. It was almost cute—almost.

"Yeah, well," I said, giving her a half-smirk as I slid my sword back into its scabbard, "next time, try waking me up without standing directly in my kill zone. Unless you enjoy near-death experiences."

She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest, her cheeks tinged a faint pink.

And there it was again—the blush. What the hell was that about? Was she embarrassed? Angry? Gassy? I didn't have time to figure it out. The last thing I needed was to start dissecting the inner workings of a noblewoman's emotions.

Instead, I did what I do best: ignored the awkwardness and focused on the important stuff. Like making sure we weren't about to get jumped.

The morning sun was rising, casting warm light over the campgrounds. Honestly? It was kind of beautiful. The way the sunlight filtered through the trees, the soft rustle of the wind in the leaves—it reminded me of home. Or at least the better parts of Earth. The kind of mornings I used to take for granted before getting yeeted into this medieval fantasy world of swords, magic, and rich brats.

I closed my eyes and concentrated, letting my Ki flow through me. It was still weird, sensing things this way.

I searched for any Ki signatures nearby. Just like last night, I could only sense the usual suspects: Neralia, Lashley, and Driver, our wolfish beastkin slave who had somehow earned my respect for their quiet competence. Nothing else. No intruders.

Lashley's voice snapped me out of my focus. "Do you sense anything?" he asked, his tone surprisingly civil.

I raised an eyebrow. "Well, well," I said, turning to face him. "The noble brat finally decided to use his brain. I'm impressed."

Lashley glared, but before he could snap back, I added, "And because I'm a benevolent god of sarcasm, I'll reward you with an answer: no. No one's out there but us four."

He frowned, clearly not satisfied. "And how exactly do you know that? You don't have mana, so how—"

I cut him off with a grin. "Trade secret," I said, tapping the side of my nose. "A magician never reveals his tricks."

His glare deepened, but he didn't push the issue. Small victories.

My attention shifted to Driver, who was already packing up the last of our supplies with their usual quiet efficiency. "Hey, Driver," I called out, earning a brief flick of their furry ears. "What's on the menu this morning?"

Driver didn't respond verbally—they never did—but a few minutes later, they handed me a cup of tea and a small plate of biscuits.

Tea and biscuits. Not exactly a full English breakfast, but hey, I'd had worse.

As I sat by the fire, munching on my meager meal, I caught Neralia stealing glances at me from across the camp. She quickly looked away whenever our eyes met, her blush deepening.

What was her deal? First the squeak, now this? If I didn't know any better, I'd say she was starting to warm up to me. Or maybe she was just embarrassed that I almost accidentally beheaded her. Either way, it was weird, and I wasn't about to spend brainpower figuring it out.

After breakfast, we packed up and climbed into the carriage. The horses whinnied softly as Driver took the reins, and we resumed our journey north toward Fort Defal.

As the wheels creaked over the uneven dirt road, I leaned back in my seat and let my mind wander. Last night's ambush—or lack thereof—was still bothering me. Whoever those people were, they weren't your average bandits. Testing us, then leaving without a fight? That wasn't normal.

I had a bad feeling this wasn't the last time we'd run into them.

But for now, all I could do was wait.

And, of course, make Lashley's life a living hell in the meantime.

---

The carriage rattled along the uneven dirt road, the soft creak of its wheels the only sound breaking the still morning air. I leaned back in my seat, arms crossed, trying to ignore the awkward tension in the cabin.

It wasn't easy, though, because Neralia was blushing.

All. Freaking. Day.

She wasn't even subtle about it. Every time I so much as glanced her way, her cheeks turned pink, and she quickly looked out the window like a guilty kid caught sneaking cookies. At first, I figured she was still embarrassed about the whole "almost getting decapitated" thing from this morning. But by the third time she blushed, I was starting to think she was doing it on purpose to mess with me.

It was driving me insane.

I mean, sure, I could've asked her what her deal was. But that would mean starting a conversation, and honestly, I didn't have the energy to deal with her noble nonsense.

And Lashley? He was no help. He just sat there glaring at me like I'd insulted his ancestors. Or worse, like he suspected something. Probably thought I was trying to seduce his sister or some crap like that. As if I had time for that particular drama.

I sighed loudly, slumping further into my seat. "You know," I said, breaking the silence, "if you keep blushing like that, Neralia, people are gonna start thinking you're into me."

Her head snapped toward me, her cheeks now a brilliant shade of crimson. "Excuse me?" she sputtered, trying—and failing—to sound offended.

"Just saying," I said with a smirk. "It's a good look for you, though. Really brings out your eyes."

She opened her mouth to retort but seemed to think better of it, opting instead to glare out the window.

Lashley muttered something under his breath, probably a prayer for patience.

I decided I'd had enough of the awkward carriage ride and the noble twin drama. Just as I was about to comment again, the carriage jolted to a sudden stop, nearly throwing me forward.

"What the hell now?" I muttered, getting to my feet.

I pushed open the carriage door and stepped out, my boots crunching on the dirt road. Driver was at the front, their wolfish ears twitching as they stared ahead, motionless.

"Hey," I called, walking up to them. "What's the holdup?"

Driver didn't answer.

It took me a second to notice why.

The pack of wolves surrounding the carriage was hard to miss.

Big doesn't even begin to cover it. These things were massive—each one standing as tall as the carriage itself, their black fur shimmering like polished obsidian under the sunlight. Their eyes glowed an eerie, blood-red, and their fangs looked sharp enough to tear through steel.

There were six of them. And they weren't just standing there—they were stalking, circling, their low growls vibrating through the air like distant thunder.

I stared at them for a moment, my brain struggling to process the sheer absurdity of the situation.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I said out loud. "This goddamn world, man. First a fucking black lion the size of a two-story house, and now a pack of wolves as tall as a fucking carriage? What's next, flying sharks? Fire-breathing elephants?!"

Driver glanced at me briefly but said nothing, their ears pinned flat against their head. Yeah, I didn't blame them. I'd be scared shitless, too.

"Twins!" I yelled, not taking my eyes off the wolves. "Get out here. Now!"

The carriage door opened, and Lashley climbed out, looking annoyed. "Kaizen, I've told you a hundred times. Address us properly as—"

"Shut the fuck up," I snapped, pointing at the wolves. "And look around."

His mouth clamped shut as his eyes landed on the pack. For a second, he just stood there, his face a mixture of shock and disbelief.

Neralia stepped out next, brushing nonexistent dust off her cloak. "Kaizen, honestly, must you always be so—"

"Shut it," I cut her off, jabbing my finger in the direction of the wolves. "Focus, princess. Or do I need to spell it out for you?"

Her eyes widened as she finally noticed the predators surrounding us. Her rapier was in her hand in an instant, her usual composure faltering for a brief moment.

"By the gods..." she whispered.

Lashley, for once, didn't have anything snarky to say. He gripped his sword tightly, his knuckles white.

The wolves stopped circling, their glowing eyes fixed on us. One of them—the largest, with a scar running down its snout—let out a deep, bone-rattling growl.

"Alright," I muttered, unsheathing my black sword. "Let's see if these oversized mutts can handle a fight."

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