Chapter Twenty-ninth
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Karsu emerged from the interwoven cracks, his body moving with a lightness that did not suit what he had just come out of.
He did not jump.
He did not dash.
He released a single thread.
It latched onto the trunk of a massive tree dozens of meters away—one that was still standing at the edge of the collapse. He pulled. His body shot forward like an arrow, leaving behind dense dust and falling fragments of earth.
But the tree—shuddered.
It was not like the others. It was enormous, centuries old, its trunk wider than any arms could encircle. But the collapse had reached its roots. The ground beneath it was devouring itself, and the trunk that had stood firm for hundreds of years began to tilt.
Slowly.
With a massive cracking sound, as if ancient bones were groaning under a weight they could no longer bear.
Karsu reached it at the moment it began to tilt. He caught a thick branch, his body swaying with the tree's fall. He looked down. At the abyss that was widening. At the forest being swallowed by the ground.
He looked ahead.
To where trees had stretched for dozens of meters—now gone. To where solid ground had turned into a moving slope. To where the stillness of the forest had turned into the endless roar of collapse.
This madman…
Karsu thought, still hanging from the branch of the tilting tree.
He destroyed a quarter of the forest. Maybe a third.
He looked at the widening pit, at the cracks stretching like hungry fingers, at the dust that had become like night.
And it was still expanding.
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Hundreds of meters away, Cox was standing.
He no longer needed to escape. He had created a flat platform raised above the ground, like a triangle with its tip cut off, standing over everything. He stood at its center, his arms at his sides, looking down.
The smile was still on his face. But it was not the smile of a victor. It was the smile of someone seeing something he did not yet understand.
Below him, the collapse was growing. Faster. Rougher. Like a beast that had been released without anyone knowing how to return it to its cage.
The trees were being swallowed. Boulders were rolling like giant dice. And the dust—was rising like an impenetrable wall.
But Cox was not looking at the collapse.
He was looking at Karsu.
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In the middle of the destruction, where the ground was collapsing around him, Karsu was suspended. Not by a single thread. Dozens. Hundreds. They extended from him in every direction, intertwined with stable rocks, with tree trunks that had not yet fallen, with anything that could hold a human in a time when the world was falling apart.
He stood at the center of that web like a spider waiting. His body no longer swayed with the tree—because he no longer needed it. He was suspended in the void between trees, between rocks, between what remained of a forest that had stood minutes ago.
And his eyes—those cold eyes—were fixed on Cox.
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Their eyes met.
It was not a moment of conflict. It was a moment of measurement. A moment of reading. A moment where each placed the other where he belonged.
Karsu covered his eyes with the Aura.
He reinforced it. Focused it. Made it pierce through the dust, through the distance, through Cox's body itself.
And he saw.
Cox's Jowf was shining. Not like someone who had drained his energy in such an attack. But like someone who still had more to give. More than half. Maybe sixty percent. Maybe more.
This… is not normal.
Karsu analyzed in a second.
An attack of this power. This range. This destruction. And his energy was still at sixty percent?
He remembered the classifications of the Jowf he had once studied.
Type A. It had to be Type A. The Jowf that does not consume energy quickly. The Jowf that expands with use. The Jowf that lets you fight for hours without feeling fatigue.
He looked at Cox. At that massive body covered in dust and blood. At that smile that had not left his face despite the wound on his neck.
Hm… I sometimes forget that talent exists among villagers too. It is not limited to Aura Lords.
A small, cold smile appeared.
Excellent talent… for a villager.
No—
very excellent.
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On his raised platform, Cox was watching.
He was confident. It was not arrogance. It was knowledge.
Poison runs in his blood. Even if he found an antidote, an antidote is not magic. It needs time to leave the body.
And he was underground moments ago. Under pressure that should have crushed him. Under an attack nothing could stand against.
His body should be shattered from the inside.
He narrowed his eyes.
He cannot be fine. He cannot.
But there he was. Suspended in his web like a spider, looking at him as if to say: Here I am. What next?
Cox shook his head.
"Strange… this man is strange."
He raised his halberd.
But it did not matter.
He smiled.
"I'll uncover your secret… when you fall."
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Karsu did not wait.
His fingers moved. The threads around him trembled like harp strings. He knew time was not on his side. He knew the ground was still collapsing. He knew Fargas was coming.
But most importantly—he knew that Cox still had plenty of energy left.
If this fight continues here, the cost will be too high. The battlefield has to change.
He looked at Cox.
And Cox looked at him.
And in that moment, both understood that their battle was nearing its end.
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Karsu raised his voice, cutting through the roar of the collapse:
"You human gorilla! What is your name?"
Cox paused for a moment. Sweat poured heavily from his forehead, but it meant nothing. Energy was one thing; endurance was another. Qaz energy was different from physical exhaustion. The first was the ability to manifest the Qaz itself, while the second—physical or mental fatigue—was, in Cox's case, merely sweat pouring from his pores, a sign that his body needed rest. Nothing more.
He raised his eyebrows, his smile never leaving his face despite his heavy breathing.
"You tell me first, insect! Even your powers are like a spider's—and that's an insect!"
Karsu replied coldly:
"Are you an idiot? Someone at your level should be known. I could ask anyone in the street about your description, and they would tell me your name. Or are you just a monkey hiding its tail between its legs?"
Cox's face reddened.
"You bastard! You think I'm afraid? Listen well!"
His voice rose, almost louder than the collapse:
"My name is Cox! You son of a—"
Karsu smiled. A short, cold smile.
"I promise… I will kill you later."
He looked around. The ground was still collapsing, cracks still widening, dust still rising like an impenetrable wall. Then his eyes returned to Cox.
"But for now, I think our brief battle ends here. It seems there's a new variable approaching."
He gestured with his head toward the forest—toward where Fargas was approaching.
"Though I wouldn't mind killing you both. One killer, two, ten—it makes no difference. They're all the same."
He looked at Cox for a long moment.
"But tell me… do you agree to fight alongside others?"
Cox laughed. A loud, defiant laugh.
"Trying to run? Fine! Set a time—and I'll destroy you then!"
Then he added:
"What's your name?!"
Karsu ignored the question.
"One week. Same time. Same place."
His gaze drifted over the growing collapse, the ground devouring itself, the distance widening between them. Then a thought:
I came from this direction for two reasons. To avoid Fargas… and—
He looked at the devastation around him.
I should thank the gorilla. He made what I came for easier.
I will return later.
He released his threads. Twisted together like a thick rope, they connected to a distant tree. He pulled. His body shot forward like an arrow—past the first tree, then the second, then the third—moving away through the trees like a shadow that disappears with the arrival of dawn.
He vanished.
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In the heart of the forest, Fargas was running.
But his running was not ordinary. The Qaz of Acceleration—the Qaz he had mastered over the years—was working at full power. The first step was slow. The second, faster. The third, faster still. His speed increased with each step, like an arrow being drawn before its release.
And now—he had arrived.
He was no longer running. He was almost flying over the ground. The wind around him screamed like bullets, and the trees beside him blurred into formless streaks.
He saw the collapse from afar. He saw the destruction. He saw the stone tower standing at its center.
He saw Cox.
He jumped.
It was no ordinary leap. It was like being launched from a catapult. He ascended the tower in seconds, his feet barely touching the slanted rock, until he stood before Cox.
But he did not stop.
His feet kept moving. Running in place. Fast. Rhythmic. He knew that stopping would mean losing the momentum he had built over the past minutes. Stopping meant starting from zero. And stopping now—meant the Lord of Threads would escape.
His piercing blue eyes locked onto Cox.
"Where is the Lord of Threads?! Which direction did he escape?!"
Cox answered lazily:
"What's with the rush? I don't know. He just disappeared—"
Fargas cut him off:
"Which direction?!"
Cox paused. He looked at Fargas, at his furious eyes, at his feet that would not stop moving.
"I don't know. When the collapse happened—he vanished."
Fargas felt a tightness in his chest. He knew Cox's nature. He knew that he knew more than he was saying. He knew that this stubborn gorilla was hiding something.
But this was not the time for arguments.
"I will speak to you later about the collapse. And about what you did here."
His tone was sharp. Then, as if rubbing salt into the wound, he added:
"Are you injured anywhere?"
"No!" Cox answered at once.
Fargas looked at his neck. At the long wound covered in a layer of red mud.
"And this?"
Cox glanced at the wound, then back at him.
"Red mud."
Fargas exhaled. There was no time left.
He moved.
He descended from the tower at insane speed, his feet never stopping for a moment. On the ground, he continued running in place for seconds—determining direction, calculating distance, analyzing.
The Lord of Threads escaped north. That much is certain. And if he escaped from there—
He closed his eyes for an instant. Then opened them.
That means his plan was clear from the beginning.
He launched.
He was no longer running toward the forest. He was running toward the city.
His feet struck the ground with unimaginable speed, and the trees around him turned into streaks of light. He knew the Lord of Threads would try to reach the city before it was sealed. He knew time was short.
One minute. Maybe less.
I will reach him before—
He did not finish the thought.
He reached the edge of the forest. He saw the distant wall. He saw the faint light of the city.
And he saw—
nothing.
No trace. No dust. Nothing.
He stood there, gasping, his feet still churning violently.
He looked right. Left. Forward.
Where is he?
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