Ambitious Escape

The air was thick with tension, the scent of sweat, blood, and scorched earth hanging over the Fogspine Pass. Larin moved like a wraith through the trees, his breath steady, his body light with the Sinlung Resonance. Each step guided him where the land allowed, his presence blending into the world around him. The Kirati soldiers still pursued him, their formations breaking apart as frustration set in.

He had led them in circles for hours, twisting them through terrain they barely understood. Every once in a while, the ground was marked with the aftermath of his ambushes—bodies crumpled where they had fallen, throats slit cleanly, or left gasping as mana burned their insides. His blade dripped crimson, his lungs ached, but he never stopped moving.

Larin settled back into a low-hanging branch and hid behind a heavy curtain of vines to watch one officer barking orders to his men.

"We knew they were going to come!" The man kicked at a pile of wreckage, his face twisted in rage. "Why didn't we station more guards? Those damn Mana Striders were worth more than your lives!"

The Kirati warriors stood silent with a strain that could easily read through exhaustion on their faces; they had lost too many. Larin grinned. Good. Let them fear. Let them feel how it is to be hunted.

As the sun disappeared below the horizon, the battalion salvaged whatever was left of their war machines. What had once stood proud as artillery lay in smoking ruins, broken beyond repair. The officers conferred in hushed tones before giving the signal to fall back.

Larin followed silently, moving like a shadow between the trees. The warship stood docked on the flat field, its ramp lowered as the soldiers filed in one by one. He counted them carefully, noting their weapons and their positioning. His heartbeat remained steady—there was still more damage to be done.

The last to enter was a Scholar-Cosmic Magi, his flowing robes in stark contrast to the hardened soldiers around him. He moved with an air of authority, his fingers tracing mana runes in the air as he prepared to seal the shuttle gates. Larin struck.

He launched from the darkness, his body propelled by [Veilstep], closing the distance in an instant. His machete came down in a precise arc, aimed at the Magi's throat. 

But the Magi was faster. 

A wave of force exploded outward from him, throwing Larin back before his blade could connect. Larin twisted in midair, landing in a crouch as the Magi's hands moved in a fluid sequence.

"[Sundering Chains]," the Magi growled, his voice thick with mana.

Golden chains exploded from the air, crackling with suppressed energy, lashing toward Larin in an instant.

Larin rolled, barely avoiding the first lash as the second cut through his shoulder. A sharp burn seared his skin, the chain's energy sinking into him. His mind sharpened. He had only fought one Cosmic Magi before, and that was alongside Ewin. But now, alone, he was seeing it in full.

As if mana coursed through his very being, coiling in readiness for the casting of a spell. The hitch in their breathing just before releasing a technique. There was always that fraction of breath — a moment of weakness. Larin's heart thudded. He could play into that. 

The Magi cast once again with "[Meteor Glaive]." A blade of molten metal formed in his hand; the air distorted as heat from it rippled outward.

Larin took a deep breath, changing his stance. The world slowed. The Sinlung Breathing Technique guided his instincts, while the Sinlung Resonance let him feel the ripples of energy before the Magi even moved. He anticipated the strike before it came.

The glaive swung in a deadly arc. Larin ducked, rolling forward as he cast [Echo Wave]. A concussive force rippled from his hands, striking the Magi in the chest, sending him stumbling back. 

Larin didn't give him a chance to recover. He lunged, activating [Petal Cascade], mana-infused petals slicing through the air like razors. The Magi blocked with a hastily cast barrier, but Larin was already inside his guard.

A single, clean thrust. 

His machete pierced the Magi's gut, twisting as he wrenched it free. The man staggered, eyes wide in disbelief as blood poured from his wound. 

"You—" he gasped, before crumpling to the ground. 

Larin wasted no time.

He ran into the warship's interior, slipping into the shadows as the last remnants of the battalion moved about. The corridors were dimly lit, the hum of mana engines vibrating through the metal walls. He pressed himself against the cold steel, listening.

Soldiers moved in groups, discussing their next objectives. Engineers checked over weapons and supplies. No one expected an intruder. And the Warship was slowly taking off.

Perfect.

Larin drew mana cartridges from his pouch, muttering an incantation over them. [Detonation Rounds]—small, but devastating. He placed them in strategic points within the interior of the ship, tucking them into supply crates, under mana conduits, and behind reinforced panels. Each one throbbed with energy, just waiting to be detonated.

In the dark, he walked like a spirit. He disposed of lone guards with swift and silent ease. A blade across the throat, a twist to the neck, a hand to the mouth to stifle the last breath. Their bodies thudded to the floor, unseen before the others could see.

He navigated the corridors without being seen, planting his traps with methodical precision.

But then—

A sharp voice called out behind him. "Intruder!" 

Larin spun, his instincts flaring. A group of soldiers had spotted him, their rifles raised. 

He activated [Veilstep], disappearing into the shadows just as they opened fire. Mana bolts tore through the air where he had stood moments before. 

He reappeared behind them, slashing through one soldier's spine before kicking another into the wall. Blood splattered across the floor. 

Alarms blared.

The ship roared to life, the walls vibrating as defenses activated. Larin knew he had been found out. 

He turned a corner—and froze. 

Standing before him were three Cosmic Magi. 

Their presence was suffocating, their mana rolling off them in waves. They stared him down, their expressions unreadable. 

"So," one of them said, his voice eerily calm. "You've been busy." 

Larin exhaled, gripping his blade tighter. 

"This is bad."