Chapter : 676

He always talked about silly cartoon logic. He called their deadly missions "filler episodes". He complained about doing cardio. He joked about video game boss fights. He said he just wanted to move to the country. He just wanted to grow potatoes on a quiet farm. He wanted a boring, peaceful life.

But Ken was also kind. He was always there. He never acted arrogant. He never looked down on anyone. He made the scary moments feel safe. He brought light into their chaotic, dangerous world. He treated everyone like an equal.

Naomi cared about him deeply. She wanted to tell him. She wanted to stand up in the living room and say it out loud.

But Elma possessed the courage. Naomi did not.

Naomi felt like a complete coward. She let her pride ruin her chance. She let another girl step forward first. The deep, quiet sadness squeezed her heart again. She could not stand lying in bed anymore. The quiet room made her thoughts too loud.

She needed a distraction. She needed to move her body. She needed to exhaust her muscles so her brain would finally shut off.

Naomi threw the blankets off the bed. She sat up. She swung her legs over the edge of the mattress. Her bare feet touched the cold wooden floorboards.

She stood up. She walked over to her wooden closet. She opened the door. She took off her sleepwear. She put on her dark training pants. She put on a simple gray combat shirt. She tied her bright red hair back into a tight, neat ponytail. She wanted no distractions.

She walked over to her desk. She picked up her twin silver daggers. The metal handles felt cold and familiar in her hands. She slid the daggers into the leather sheaths on her belt.

She left her bedroom. She stepped out into the quiet hallway.

The entire estate was silent. Everyone else was asleep. Naomi walked softly. She placed her feet carefully on the floorboards. She did not want to wake anyone up.

She walked down the long corridor. She passed Zinia's room. She passed Sayma's room.

Then, she reached Ken's door.

Naomi stopped walking. She stood perfectly still outside his closed wooden door. She listened closely.

She heard a very loud, rhythmic sound. Ken was snoring. He snored loudly and peacefully. He was lost in a deep sleep.

Naomi smiled a gentle, genuine smile. Her tight chest relaxed just a tiny fraction of an inch.

Suddenly, Ken mumbled loudly in his sleep. His voice muffled through the wood.

"No more running," Ken mumbled lazily in his dream. "The pizza is a total trap. It is a boss fight mechanic. I will just stay in bed. Do not steal my pepperoni."

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Naomi let out a very soft, quiet chuckle. She covered her mouth with her hand to muffle the sound. He was ridiculous. He dreamed about video game traps and stolen pizza. He treated life like a silly cartoon, even in his sleep.

She felt a rush of affection for the lazy boy. She wanted to open the door and check on him. She wanted to make sure he was warm. But she stopped herself. Her pride reminded her to act like a strict leader. A strict leader does not spy on sleeping teammates.

Naomi pulled her hand away from her mouth. The quiet sadness returned slowly.

She turned away from his door. She continued walking down the dark hallway. She reached the back entrance of the estate. She turned the metal handle. The door clicked softly. She pushed it open.

She stepped outside into the cool night air. She walked toward the open training courtyard. She planned to swing her daggers until her arms burned. She planned to practice her footwork until she could not stand. She wanted the physical pain to drown out her emotional frustration.

But as she stepped onto the grass, she realized she was not alone. Someone else was already awake in the moonlight.

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Naomi stepped fully into the open courtyard. The night air felt crisp and cool against her skin. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves on the nearby trees. The bright silver moon hung high in the dark sky. It illuminated the grassy training yard flawlessly.

Naomi reached for the leather sheaths on her belt. She prepared to draw her silver daggers. She expected the yard to be empty.

She stopped moving. She saw a faint blue glow in the center of the grass.

Ira stood in the middle of the courtyard.

The pale water mage wore simple, dark practice clothes. She stood perfectly straight. Her face was a total, emotionless blank mask. She did not look angry. She did not look sad. She looked like a cold marble statue.

But her magic told a different story.

Ira held her pale hands out in front of her. High-pressure water floated in the air all around her body. The water glowed with a faint blue light.

Naomi watched silently. She knew Ira possessed incredible control over water. Ira usually moved water with perfect, calm precision. Ira usually made the water flow smoothly.

Right now, the water was restless.

Ira moved her fingers rapidly. The floating water shifted instantly. It formed a perfect circle. A second later, the water snapped into a sharp square. Then it morphed into a flawless triangle. The geometric shapes spun violently in the air. The water crashed into itself. It splashed aggressively. The magic was chaotic. It was full of unspoken turmoil.

Naomi realized Ira was not practicing combat drills. Ira was violently expelling energy. Ira was just as frustrated as she was.

Naomi stepped forward onto the grass. Her combat boots made a soft crunching sound against the dirt. Crunch. Crunch.

Ira heard the sound immediately. Her sharp ears detected the footsteps.

Ira dropped her hands to her sides. The magical control vanished in a single millisecond. The floating geometric water shapes collapsed instantly. The water fell straight down. It splashed loudly onto the dirt. It created a dark, muddy puddle near Ira's shoes.

Ira turned around slowly. She faced Naomi. Her pale blue eyes locked onto Naomi's green eyes.

"Are you okay, Ira?" Naomi asked gently. She kept her hands away from her daggers. She walked a little closer. "You are practicing very late. The water looked very chaotic."

Ira stared at Naomi. Her face remained a blank slate. She did not frown. She did not cry. She spoke in her usual flat, robotic voice.

"I am feeling angry," Ira stated simply.

The words did not match her face at all. She sounded like a machine delivering a weather report. But the words were sharp. They cut through the quiet night air.

Naomi was very surprised. Ira never talked about feelings. Ira always talked about statistics. Ira always calculated probabilities. Ira did not discuss emotions.

"Are you angry at Elma?" Naomi asked softly. She took another step forward. She wanted to understand. "Are you mad about what happened this afternoon in the living room?"

Ira shook her head slowly. The motion was stiff and precise.