I dropped to one knee, sweat slicking my brow, breathing heavy like I'd run through a volcano wearing a weighted vest.
The Umbra Revenant didn't give me a moment.
Its cloak rippled, and the shadows beneath it quivered, ready to spawn more damn clones.
I gritted my teeth, about to force myself up—when a soft chime rang in the air.
Something warm pressed against my side.
Yuna.
The little fox shoved her head under my arm, glowing faint white. A soft pulse of light enveloped me—my burns numbed, my ribs stopped screaming, and the ache in my sword arm dulled just enough.
> [Yuna has used Minor Heal Lv. 1]
Recovery: +75 HP
Duration: Instant
Cooldown: 120 sec
Then came a shimmer in the air.
A flickering translucent barrier wrapped around us—shaky, small, barely holding.
> [Yuna has used Protective Aura Lv. 1]
Weak Barrier generated. Absorbs 1 hit.
Duration: 20 sec or 1 impact.
Cooldown: 300 sec
She looked up at me, big eyes worried. Her tail curled protectively around my ankle.
"Thanks, fluffball," I muttered, petting her head. "Now get back. It's still my fight."
The Revenant didn't wait.
It blinked—just blinked—and was suddenly there, slamming into the barrier with a shrieking wail of shadows and steel.
CRACK.
The barrier shattered like glass. But it bought me just enough time.
Focus Pulse.
I burst forward, blade up. My footwork wasn't pretty—my knees hated me—but I had my window.
"Let's see how you like stolen moves."
Quickstep. I vanished mid-dash.
Reappeared behind it.
Ironfang Slash.
I drove the blade across its back. The Revenant hissed—its cloak burned, the flesh beneath finally reacting.
It turned, fast—but not faster than me now. Phoenix Step ignited beneath my heels. Fire trailed my path as I danced in and out of its range, blade clashing with blade.
It struck—Blazing Wrath. My own move again, used against me.
But this time?
I smiled.
I dodged.
"Old trick, buddy."
I slid low, rolled past, and slashed across its side. Smoke bled from the wound, staining the air.
It wasn't over. The Revenant raised both hands—three more clones formed, flickering, unstable.
But now?
I was ready.
I stood tall, blood on my lips, fire in my lungs, and Yuna growling softly behind me.
"You like playing with shadows?" I spat, flipping my sword into a reverse grip. "Good. Let's dance in the dark."
The clones charged.
One to the left—my Quickstep.
One to the right—my Serpent Reflex.
The last one, front and center—my Ironfang Slash, blade already mid-swing.
"Copycats."
I ducked low under the slash, slammed my palm to the ground, and activated Focus Pulse—a wave of kinetic force blasted outward, staggering the middle clone just enough for me to lunge in and Flame Guard my torso.
The blade bit my shoulder but didn't cut deep. Sparks flew. My counter was immediate.
Blazing Wrath. I swung wide.
The clone's head exploded into ash.
"Next."
The one on the right came in like lightning, flipping like I would with Serpent Reflex, blade aimed at my spine.
I twisted around, Bloodrush kicking in—heartbeat spiking, my blade moved before I thought.
Clang!
Parried. But it hurt.
I backstepped, panting hard, vision blurring slightly from the toll of Bloodrush stacking on my drained stamina.
Before I could react, the last clone lunged—this one used Phoenix Step, its feet leaving streaks of heat in the air.
"Sh*t!"
I couldn't dodge in time.
Then—
FWIP!
A sharp, gleaming icicle shard zipped past my cheek and slammed into the clone's chest, freezing it in place.
Yuna skidded beside me, her fur fluffed up, eyes glowing a pale blue. She barked.
Another shard formed over her tail, launched with a flick—piercing the frozen clone like glass through paper.
Poof.
Ash.
"Damn, fluffy," I muttered. "You got tricks?"
She barked twice. Smug.
The last clone came at me again—but this time slower, stumbling, its copied Bloodrush already taking a toll.
I met it head-on, roared, and slashed upward with Ironfang Slash, cleaving it from hip to shoulder.
It crumbled.
All three down.
The battlefield went quiet for half a second.
Then the real Revenant stepped out from behind the ash cloud, unfazed.
Still graceful. Still silent.
Its mask tilted, watching.
It raised both hands.
Dark energy surged around it, forming into a massive, claw-shaped aura. No clones this time. Just raw power.
I winced, stepped forward with shaky legs.
Yuna growled beside me, readying more ice.
I took a deep breath.
"This thing's still not done?" I spat. "Fine. Let's finish this round…"
I raised my blade.
"...before I pass out."
I hit the ground hard, dirt kicking up around me as pain throbbed through my ribs.
The Umbra Revenant stood in the ruined clearing like a ghost of death, violet eyes glowing beneath the cracked mask. Its black, smoky cloak rippled with every silent step.
[SYSTEM NOTICE]
A Constellation is observing your mid-combat panic with secondhand cringe.
"They Who Casually Fold Suns" has taken interest in your flailing. A one-time contract is being offered.
> Temporary Skill: [Divine Focus: Ultra Casual Instinct]
Duration: 3 minutes
Effect: Full flow state. No thought. Only reaction. Only instinct.
Side Effects: You'll feel like you got hit by a truck… then another truck… emotionally.
I wiped blood off my chin and wheezed, "They Who Casually Fold Suns? Sounds like a pretentious latte order."
[Do you accept the contract?]
[Yes] – [No (and probably die painfully)]
I grinned. "Fold me up, sunshine."
[Skill Activated: Divine Focus – Ultra Casual Instinct.]
[3 Minutes Remaining.]
Snap.
The world shifted. Slowed.
No thoughts. Just pure, sharp instinct.
The Umbra Revenant lunged.
I met it.
Phoenix Step ignited beneath me—
My blade slammed against its sword with a burst of sparks.
Ironfang Slash. Bloodrush. Flame Guard.
I wasn't choosing. I was reacting—every movement cleaner, sharper.
It roared, shadows boiling off its skeletal form.
Our weapons clashed again and again—heat and darkness tearing across the field. It was relentless. Elegant. Fast.
But I was faster.
I ducked under its blade, shoulder-checked it back, then vaulted upward, flames trailing off my boots as I slammed down with a spinning slash.
The mask cracked.
But even cracked, the Revenant didn't stop. It hissed.
Then its blade flickered—faster than I could follow—
And slashed me across the chest.
Blood burst. Vision blurred.
[1 Minute Remaining.]
I gritted my teeth, diving back with Serpent Reflex, barely dodging the next strike.
Flame Guard re-ignited, but it was getting weaker. I was pushing my limits.
It kept coming. Roaring like a goddamn demon in a choir pit.
I moved. Parried. Countered. Dodged.
But even instinct has limits.
[0:00 – Skill Expired.]
[Ultra Casual Instinct: Terminated.]
The world snapped back.
Everything hurt.
I staggered, my arms trembling. Muscles failing. No more system-guided flow.
The Revenant saw the opening.
It surged forward—blade raised—death in its eyes.
I tried to block.
Too slow.
My blade missed the angle—
I saw the scythe swing toward my head and thought:
"Well sh*t."
BOOM.
A giant fireball slammed the Revenant sideways like it got hit by a train made of glitter and smugness.
Floating sigils exploded around me like confetti at a wizard rave.
Then came the voice:
"Daaaamn. You really went full 'main character' mode back there. Ten outta ten scream potential."
I blinked, dazed, and turned.
She stood there.
Grinning like she'd just walked out of a boss fight she didn't start but definitely planned to finish.
A huge witch hat tilted at a stylish angle.
Black gloves. Golden runes dancing across her thigh-highs and longcoat.
She had potions strapped like ammo to her hips and a spellbook glowing like a flex in her hand.
Her gold eyes sparkled with amusement.
"Name's Seraphine. I do magic, mischief, and occasionally save hot idiots from death."
She winked. "You're welcome."
I collapsed to one knee, coughing. "I had that handled."
She crouched beside me, playful. "Uh huh. Totally. You were just letting your organs air out a little, right?"
The Revenant roared behind her.
She casually flipped her book open.
"I'll handle spooky over there. You just focus on not dying like a drama queen, alright?"
I stared at her.
"…I think I'm in love."
And what do idiots fo when they are in this situation they passed out.
NEXT MORNING
Warmth pressed against me. Soft. Smooth. Unmistakably human.
I blinked awake slowly, the haze in my skull thick as smoke. My body felt like it had been through a grinder—aching muscles, raw joints, a bruise pulsing on my ribs. But it was the weight draped across my chest that snapped me into consciousness.
A leg was thrown over mine. An arm across my stomach.
And…
My hand was somewhere it definitely shouldn't be.
I froze.
My fingers curled slightly—pure reflex—and landed on a sensation that made my brain spark like a shorted circuit.
Pillowy.
Bare skin.
And not mine.
Shit.
Seraphine stirred in her sleep, shifting slightly, pressing in closer. Her breath warmed my neck, soft and steady. Her hair smelled like lavender and ash—somehow chaotic and gentle at the same time.
The thin blanket clung to our tangled bodies, but it wasn't doing much. My eyes dropped.
No clothes.
None on her.
None on me.
Nothing but flushed skin, faint scratches, and tension so thick it could've cracked steel.
My heart slammed into my ribs.
What the hell happened?
Last I remembered, I'd been dying. Again. Revenant blade through the gut, vision going dark, instincts dead. Then… her. Yuna. Crying out, healing light flooding my chest.
Then blackout.
And now?
I was holding Seraphine like we were lovers in the aftermath of a war.
Her thigh slid against mine as she adjusted. My breath hitched.
Still asleep. Still serene.
I didn't dare move.
Did we—? No. No way.
Right?
Gods, I hoped not.
But also… maybe?
I carefully inched my hand away, slow enough not to wake her. Her skin was still warm. Still soft. Still bare.
My face burned.
I swallowed hard, stared at the ceiling for a long moment, and whispered to no one in particular:
"...what the hell happened yesterday?"
"…what the hell happened yesterday?". I muttered,again.
A soft sigh tickled my ear.
"Mmm…"
I froze. A warm weight shifted beside me—bare skin against bare skin. My heart dropkicked my ribcage.
Then I heard it.
That quiet little yawn.
I slowly turned my head.
Seraphine lay beside me, her brown hair a glowing mess against the pillow, cheeks faintly pink, one arm draped lazily across my stomach like we were in some kind of cozy lovers' painting. The blanket had slid just low enough to make my brain short-circuit.
She blinked up at me—eyes drowsy, voice soft.
"…morning…"
My soul left my body.
"I—I—what—why—ARE WE—" I was short-circuiting like a busted toaster.
She blinked again, confused by my flailing.
"…hm? Are you okay…?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper. "You're all red…"
I scrambled up, clutching the blanket like a lifeline. "I'M RED BECAUSE WE'RE NAKED!"
She gasped. A tiny squeak left her lips as she clutched the blanket to her chest, her entire face turning pink.
"W-we are!?" she looked down, then looked away fast. "I—I didn't mean—! I only took your clothes off because you were bleeding and—and cold!"
My brain was still on fire. "BUT WHY ARE YOU NAKED?!"
"I thought it'd be… um… warmer?" she squeaked, hiding half her face in the blanket.
We both sat there in silence. Embarrassed. Bright red. Two dumbasses in a tent who clearly didn't know how to handle this.
Then—
"…did I… hold you in my sleep…?" she whispered.
"…yes."
"Oh."
Pause.
"Did you… maybe… accidentally…"
"YES."
We both screamed internally.
After a few screaming moments..
I cracked my knuckles and stared at the ingredients like I was about to duel them.
"Hey, readers," I said, pointing a wooden spoon at the invisible camera. "We're back with another episode of Cooking with Trauma. Because clearly, surviving a rare monster yesterday wasn't enough. No. The author decided I needed to emotionally bond through cuisine."
From behind me, Seraphine's voice floated in, dry as desert air. "You're talking to a wall."
"To the readers," I corrected, grabbing a cutting board. "They've been here since the suffering started."
She plopped down on the couch with a cup of coffee, oversized shirt slipping off one shoulder. "Tell them I said hi. And that you're weird."
---
Today's Recipe: Chicken Katsu Curry with Rice
(AKA Depression-Blocking Meal, Level 2)
Ingredients:
Boneless chicken thighs (skin-on, trust me)
Salt, black pepper
Flour, beaten eggs, panko breadcrumbs
Japanese curry roux blocks
Potatoes, carrots, onions
Garlic, ginger
White rice, perfectly steamed
A deep-rooted need for approval
"Step one," I began, seasoning the chicken thighs. "Salt and pepper like you're trying to cleanse the sins of your past. Not too much, though. We're not making a salt golem."
Seraphine sipped her coffee. "That sounds like something you'd fight in a C-rank mission."
"Probably," I said. "Next, coat the chicken—flour first, then egg, then panko. Like armor. Crunchy armor."
I pressed the breadcrumbs in tight, patting the chicken like I was psyching it up for war. "This bird's seen things."
---
[SYSTEM SUPPORT MODE ACTIVATED](notreal)
> Detected Dish: Earth Origin – Chicken Katsu Curry
Bonus Activated: +15 Recovery | +5 Strength (Temporarily) | +100 Happiness
Comment: Welcome back, Chef. The battlefield misses you.
---
Seraphine blinked. "Wait, the system supports cooking now?"
I nodded solemnly. "It's the only part of my personality that hasn't been nerfed."
I dropped the breaded chicken into hot oil. It sizzled like a crowd cheering. "Medium heat, don't rush it. Golden brown on both sides. Like the perfect tan—but edible."
Meanwhile, I started the curry base. "Chop your onions, carrots, and potatoes. Big chunks. Chunky like your ex's rebound."
"Damn," Seraphine muttered, nearly spitting her coffee.
"Saute 'em in a pan with garlic and ginger. Don't burn it. Burnt garlic tastes like regret."
I poured in water, brought it to a boil, then lowered the heat and dropped in the curry roux blocks.
"Now stir it like you're pretending everything is fine."
---
[SYSTEM UPDATE] (not real)
> Status: Curry Smells Heavenly
Additional Buff Unlocked: [Warm Soul Aura] – Allies within 3 meters recover stamina faster.
Note: I'm not crying. You're crying.
---
Rice was plated. Curry poured gently over the top like liquid gold. Chicken cut into perfect, crispy strips.
I held the plate up to the imaginary camera like I just achieved world peace.
"Chicken Katsu Curry. Recovery food for the soul. And stomach. And trauma."
Seraphine walked over, took the plate, and tasted a bite.
She paused.
Then: "Okay… this slaps. Who hurt you?"
I stared at the pan. "The author. And society."