This man was no joke. Unlike his smile
Even Luke, who considered himself fairly strong, felt an internal chill crawl down his spine. His instincts cautioned at him. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
Kukri stood with casual confidence, his posture relaxed as if he hadn't just taken two lives in the blink of an eye. His wide, unchanging smile revealed a full set of white teeth. There was no emotion in his eyes—just delight, amusement, and something colder than death.
It was disturbing.
Still, Luke remained calm. His breathing was steady, his fingers relaxed around the hilt of his weapon, and his expression unreadable.
He owed that to one thing—the passive skill: [CALM MIND].
This wasn't new to him. It was better this way. Better to be calm. Better to observe.
I'm calm, Luke thought, reassuring himself as he exhaled through his nose.
His gaze shifted slowly to the two heads that now lay just meters from where he stood. Blood soaked into the soil, forming small, dark pools that reflected the sunlight like glass.
I doubt he's a part of the test, Luke thought grimly.
His mind continued to work. Each beat of his heart was deliberate, calculated. There was no time for fear.
Well, I think that was obvious, he muttered internally, the irony bitter in his mind.
He looked back up, returning his focus to the man who had so suddenly brought death to their group—the one standing now before his teammates, tall and confident, as if daring them to blink again.
Then Kukri's voice rang out, smooth and amused, cutting through the tension like a knife.
"I see there is someone interesting here," Kukri said.
As he spoke, his hand rested lightly on the hilt of one of his curved Kukri blades.
That kid in the back sensed my movement, Kukri thought, narrowing his eyes slightly.
'I'll test him... just to be sure', he decided.
His fingers moved, drawing the blade with a quiet metallic hiss that somehow felt louder than it should in the tense silence.
Luke's eyes didn't leave him. Not for a second.
He saw the flick of the wrist. The slight flex of muscle.
And he shouted, voice sharp like steel on glass. "Dodge!!"
Tergil and Persin reacted instantly, bodies twisting out of the way in pure reflex. Felior, however, remained frozen—her mind still trapped in the image of those lifeless bodies. She didn't move.
Until Persin turned and grabbed her.
With a grunt, he yanked her down, saving her just in time.
Felior fell backward, hitting the forest floor with a thud. Her wide eyes stared at the place where death had almost touched her. The two bodies still lay nearby, the crimson trail drawing closer to her boots.
"Oh?" Kukri said with a grin, his voice playful.
"It wasn't chance after all," he said, eyes landing back on Luke.
"I think you'll be the next bait," he continued with twisted cheer. "Let's see that look on your face when you're running for your dear life."
Then he moved.
He charged like a shadow unbound, blade gleaming in the air.
Luke had already laid Jevon carefully on the ground. His own sword was out, gripped tight.
"Take Jevon and run!!" he yelled to the others.
[ SKILL PERSUASION ACTIVATED ]
Persin and Tergil didn't hesitate. Hearing the command, they turned and bolted. Tergil scooped up Jevon, throwing the unconscious boy onto his back.
Persin glanced behind—Felior still hadn't moved.
"Get up!" he shouted, running to her side.
Felior blinked, breaking from her daze. She looked at Persin, then turned her eyes toward Luke, who was already clashing blades with the killer.
"I got to help him," she said softly, her voice shaky.
She took a step forward.
He grabbed her shoulders and shook her slightly. "What you can instead do for Luke is to quickly report to an Instructor ," Persin urged, nodding toward the path where Tergil was already running.
Felior clenched her fists, trembling for a moment—but then nodded. She turned and ran, her boots pounding against the earth.
Persin followed behind, though his steps slowed. He glanced back.
Luke was still fighting—each move fast, precise, resisting an enemy far beyond normal limits.
Then a memory flashed before Persin's eyes.
It was years ago.
Nighttime.
He had been a Greenhorn mercenary, trembling behind a bush, hidden by the orders of his team leader. That night, they had encountered a beast—a massive fox with glowing red eyes. Its fur was like midnight, its fangs glistening with blood.
The leader had stayed behind.
He died screaming as the beast tore into him.
Persin could never forget that sound.
Back in the present, Persin bit his lip so hard it nearly bled.
Then he turned and followed the others.
His thoughts whispered, Don't die, Luke.