CHAPTER 196: 196. PROFOUNDNESS OF ART

Back at the camp, a heavy silence loomed like a suffocating fog. The once lively, cheerful atmosphere had been reduced to cold stillness. The distant crackling of the fire, the soft rustling of leaves—it all felt hauntingly loud in contrast to the silence between the people.

The cause of it all?

Cassius.

He had broken Verena’s wrist with mechanical calm, and Miss Celia’s outburst afterwards had only worsened the suffocating weight over the group. It didn’t feel real at first. But now, hours later, the truth had set in.

It had happened.

Right now, Mia sat beside Verena on a crude bench made from stone and earth—likely conjured by one of the earth element users earlier in the day. Her arms were folded, and her brows were tightly furrowed. Her lips were slightly pursed, pressed in thought, in confusion...

Verena, sitting next to her with her wrist now healed, didn’t speak either. Her usual fire was dulled. There was no sign of her usual pride, no flaring temper or sarcastic smirk. Her hand throbbed, yes—but it wasn’t the pain that made her fingers tremble.

No. It was something else entirely.

She couldn’t explain it—why she kept recalling that moment over and over. His hand grabbing hers, his cold gaze piercing through her, the complete lack of hesitation as he snapped her wrist with practiced ease.

It wasn’t the pain that terrified her.

It was him.

His face was... disturbingly calm. Not blank like someone restraining anger. No, he had nothing on his face—like a doll programmed to execute a task. She’d seen cold people before. But this...

He didn’t even look at her like a person.

Verena’s lips curled in a bitter smile as she forced herself to break the silence. "Your brother, huh..."

Mia flinched a little. She hadn’t expected her to speak.

"It’s not your fault," Verena said, voice low but surprisingly composed. "He was just... manipulating you. Letting you see only the side of him he wanted you to. You didn’t notice it because you cared for him. That’s not a crime."

Mia’s head dipped further. Her voice came out soft, almost hoarse. "It’s like... I don’t even know him anymore."

Verena glanced at her. "Maybe you never did."

Mia slowly turned her head to face her, confused.

Verena met her gaze. "Think about it. You said he was never the type to take insults quietly, yeah? But he was also never the type to lash out like that either. Right?"

Mia nodded slowly, uncertain. "Yeah... he’d argue. Or talk back. But this... this was different. This wasn’t him being angry. He didn’t even look angry."

"Exactly," Verena whispered, leaning closer. "This isn’t some change. This is who he always was. You just never saw it."

A long pause followed. Mia’s fingers trembled slightly.

"...There was one time," she finally muttered. "He stopped talking to me for days. I didn’t know why, but I heard a rumor that he’d hit someone so bad they ended up nearly hospitalized. I thought it was just gossip."

Verena’s eyes gleamed faintly as she seized the thread. "See? There it is. The signs were always there. You just didn’t want to believe them. He’s been hiding his real self all along."

Mia flinched again. "But... why would he hide that from me?"

Verena squeezed her hand over Mia’s. "Because he never trusted you."

Mia froze. Her eyes widened—slowly at first—then lowered as her lips began to tremble. She bit them, hard, trying to suppress the rush of emotions flooding her.

Verena pressed further. "He never let you in. Maybe he wanted to protect you. Or maybe he thought you wouldn’t understand. But that’s the truth. You weren’t someone he could confide in. Not you, not your family... or anyone."

Mia’s throat dried up. Her heart began pounding as those words—he never trusted you—echoed over and over in her skull. And then...

Family.

That word hit her like a brick.

Her eyes unfocused for a moment, memories flashing. One in particular.

That time she had walked in on him and their father—except it wasn’t a normal conversation. Cassius—no, Arawn—had been standing there, gaze dark and venomous, nearly raising his hand to strike. He’d been accusing their father of something... threatening him.

But back then, Mia hadn’t wanted to look deeper. She assumed it was just a heated argument. People fought. Families argued. That’s what she told herself.

But the calmness in his eyes back then...

One by one, the pieces began slotting in.

He had always been like this.

He was always hiding something.

There were the lies. The secrets. The late nights. The girlfriends he never told her about. The injuries he never explained. The time he stopped coming home for weeks.

Everything started to make sense in the worst possible way.

"...I really don’t know anything about my own brother," Mia murmured suddenly, a dry, almost hysterical chuckle slipping from her lips.

Verena blinked.

Mia leaned back, resting her cheek against her hand, her expression distant. Her voice was hollow, and her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

"I always thought I was close to him... but maybe he’s been a stranger this whole time."

A silence fell between them... a suffocating silence which hurt Mia to her core.

...

In another corner of the camp site. Art lounged on the arm of a wooden chair. Zyon stood nearby with arms crossed. Leon, Amelia, Lilith, Celeste, Evelyn, and Freya lingered together in silence.

It was Lilith who broke the stillness, her voice light, but laced with an edge of nervousness. "So... how long do you think it’s gonna last? I mean the Rift War. Are we seriously going to be holed up in our homes for years?"

Celeste exhaled sharply, a visible flicker of frustration cracking through her usually composed expression. "Does it even matter, Lilith? We survived. That’s all there is to it. So what if we’re stuck hiding for decades? At least we would be alive."

Freya stepped in gently, her smile tired, uncertain, "I don’t think either of you are wrong. Lilith’s question makes sense. She’s from a martial family, after all. You were trained to fight, not sit around waiting."

Celeste turned her head, jaw clenched, "Seriously, though. This whole thing is just fucked. How are we supposed to live now? We’re basically one bad day away from death. Our own academy is overrun by monsters."

Lilith gave her a look—not mocking, but surprised. "Wow, Celeste. I didn’t know you cared that much about the academy."

Celeste didn’t back down. She met Lilith’s gaze squarely. "I don’t. I was finally settling in. I thought maybe, just maybe, I could enjoy something. Then all of it gets torched to hell because some overgrown eldritch nightmare thought it’d be funny to drop in uninvited."

Their voices faded slightly as Art nudged Zyon with his elbow, voice light but deliberately casual. "Hey. You thinking of sticking around here? I’d be down to stay at the same place. Wouldn’t mind a partner to grind dungeons or play games with. We could treat it like summer break, you know?"

Zyon gave him a baffled look. "You’re seriously thinking about games right now?"

Art shrugged like it was obvious. "I don’t do fake stress, man. What’s the point? I already tried to fight one of those things. It slapped me around like I was made of wet paper. My current survival plan is called ’don’t engage anything that looks remotely interested in eating me.’"

Leon, who had been quietly listening, chuckled, his voice warm, like he was trying to keep the mood afloat. "Come on. You’re acting like we didn’t do anything. We all fought. That horde wasn’t just an illusion—we held our ground. We should be proud of that."

Art laughed—sharp and bitter. "Proud? You want me to be proud of that?" He leaned forward, voice dropping. "Let me tell you a secret, Leon. That endless horde you’re talking about? The sea of monsters we were slicing through? That wasn’t a horde. It was one. One single fucking monster. The entire battlefield was just a part of it."

The moment he said it, everything stalled. Zyon’s posture stiffened. Leon’s eyes widened, brows furrowing in disbelief.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Zyon asked slowly, his voice low, disturbed.

Leon echoed him, but more shaken, "That doesn’t even make sense. How could... how could that thing be a single entity?"

Art gave a tired smile. "I wouldn’t believe it either. But Cassius and I went to fight it head-on. Guess what? We got manhandled. I mean tossed around like insects. I was bleeding out, gasping."

A thought clicked in Art’s mind, and he frowned. ’Wait a minute. Cassius... he didn’t look tired. He wasn’t bruised. Nothing.’ That image stuck in his head like a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit.

But now wasn’t the time to dwell on it. He had to make sure they understood the weight of what they were facing.

"Look, I’m not trying to scare you for fun. I’m saying this because someone has to. Playing the hero? Thinking you’re gonna be the chosen one? That’s how you die. You get death. You become another corpse in the street. We got lucky. Or maybe it just didn’t feel like killing us. But next time?" He looked at each of them in turn, voice cold and serious. "Next time, we’re toast. Period."