Not the Hero, Not the Villain — Just the One Who Wins
Chapter 38: Student Council War 4

I didn’t look back.

But I knew she was watching.

The march back to the fortress was silent. No one dared ask what I whispered to her. Not even Layla.

When we returned to base, we began analyzing new plans—revised scouting routes, defensive fallback triggers, mana pool syncing. The squad was operating on war instincts. But my thoughts? My thoughts were still with her.

Layla stood over the battlefield model, her fingers tracing the miniature terrain with sharp precision.

"We need to reinforce the south ridge," she said. "Rin favors high ground for his assault waves. If we seed ice runes into the forest floor, we can slow any charge and funnel them into Garrick’s ambush line."

I nodded, but added, "Double the dummies at the northeast edge. Make them pulse faint mana signatures. Rayne won’t be able to resist. While they attack ghosts, we’ll collapse their rear supply route with Liora and Volkin."

Lucielle raised an eyebrow. "And what about Kali’s poison mist?"

I smiled thinly. "I’ve already enlisted Sasha. Her Bloodfire will evaporate it on contact. We bait Kali with weak units, and once she’s locked in... Sasha burns her out."

Garrick grinned. "You’re playing them like puppets."

"No," I corrected. "I’m giving them a script. One they’ll follow until they choke on the last page."

Meanwhile, far away in Sector B, within the Galat encampment...

Rin burst through the tactical tent. "They let her go. Ashen let her go. He even—kissed her forehead."

Rayne stared at him, unblinking. "Excuse me?"

"She didn’t resist. She just... let it happen. And then he told his squad she was an asset."

The silence was deafening.

Rayne’s knuckles cracked. Then his voice lowered to a near growl. "That bitch... how dare she turn against us."

He slammed his fist into the side of the supply rack, shattering its wooden frame.

"She was never loyal," Nyx said quietly from the side. "She follows the thrill. The chase. Not you. Not anyone."

Rayne turned to her. "I don’t care. She will pay for this. And so will Ashen."

Beside them, Vexis the necromancer rolled a bone die across the table. "He’s setting traps within traps. If we move tonight, we catch him before the final puzzle locks."

Rayne narrowed his eyes. "Then we hit them at dawn. But this time, we split our strike. Cecilia and Rin take the decoy team through the glade. I’ll lead the hammer blow from the west."

Rin frowned. "What if he’s already predicted that?"

"Then we improvise. And burn his entire fortress down."

Back in the shadows of the Obsidian Forest, Seraphina Loire stood still for a long time.

Hand pressed to her forehead.

Where he’d kissed her.

Where shadow met light.

She turned toward the trees, eyes narrowing. "What the hell are you planning, Ashen Crimson?"

Then she vanished into the night, faster than a scream, with vengeance and curiosity in her wake.

Tomorrow, the faction war would rage.

But tonight?

A seed of chaos had taken root.

And it had her name carved into it.

The sky cracked open at dawn, spilling golden light through the twisted branches of the Obsidian Forest. But there was no warmth in it—only the chill of war.

We were ready.

Liora perched atop the watchtower, her eyes scanning the perimeter with predatory calm. Beneath her, Garrick stood at the gates like a stone colossus, his shield planted deep into the earth. Lucielle sharpened her blade beside him, her crimson scarf fluttering like a war banner.

I stood at the command overlook, the battlefield model now alive beneath my feet. Volkin prowled in the shadows, already synced with the mana currents pulsing beneath the forest floor.

Layla approached, clad in sleek armor etched with house sigils. "They’re moving," she said simply.

"Which direction?"

"Exactly as predicted. Decoy team heading through the glade. The main force circling west."

"Then it begins."

Sector West – 0632 hours

Rayne led the charge personally, his enchanted cloak billowing behind him like a war god descending. Cecilia flanked him, her rapier drawn and eyes narrowed. Behind them thundered Darius, the brute tank, and Vexis, whose skeletal summons scurried along the trees like shadow-spiders.

"Ashen will expect a brute force," Rayne growled. "So we give him one. And then we bury him beneath it."

But what they saw when they reached the fortress walls wasn’t a standing army.

It was a ghost town.

No guards.

No defense.

Only faint mana signatures drifting from the ramparts—dummies laced with illusion and cloaked pressure glyphs.

Cecilia’s eyes widened. "It’s a trap—"

BOOM.

A chain of shadow bombs ripped across the tree line, sending necro-summons flying and shattering the flanks of Rayne’s charge. Screams erupted. Then arrows—ice-laced and precise—fell like divine judgment from the canopy.

Noora.

"Fall back!" Rayne roared, but it was too late. The ground beneath them cracked.

Volkin burst from the shadows, eyes glowing, fangs drenched in mana. With a roar, he slammed into Darius, sending the behemoth tumbling into the crater below.

"NOW!" I shouted.

Our true force surged from the eastern ridge—Garrick, Sasha, Lucielle, Elara—collapsing the pincer in a perfectly orchestrated ambush. The Galat line fractured, forced into retreat.

Sector Glade – 0700 hours

Meanwhile, Rin and the decoy team—Seraphina, Nyx, and Mirage—breached the outer ridge with surgical precision. But something was wrong.

Too quiet.

No traps. No resistance.

Nyx raised her wand. "He’s luring us."

Rin clenched his jaw. "Then why? What does he want?"

That’s when Seraphina stopped.

And realized the glade beneath them was slowly freezing.

"Get back!" she shouted, but it was too late.

Layla stepped from the mist, her blade glowing with runes. "Round two, princess."

What followed was a clash of speed and elegance. Layla versus Seraphina. Blades rang, magic hissed, snow turned to steam. Neither gave ground, but Seraphina’s eyes were clouded—distracted.

She kept glancing over her shoulder.

Looking for me.

And I wasn’t there.

Sector West – 0715 hours

Rayne fought like a demon cornered. His sword howled with wind affinity strikes, and his roars rattled trees. But I matched him blow for blow. Every movement was rehearsed in dreams, every dodge a ghost of past mistakes corrected.

"You betrayed tradition!" he screamed.

I ducked under his strike and grinned. "I rewrote it."

With a flick, I summoned Echo Shift—three versions of me erupting into motion. Rayne cut through two.

The third struck him across the face.

He stumbled back, dazed.

I stepped forward, blade at his throat.

"Your move, prince."

He spat blood and vanished in a windstep retreat.

We had held them.

No—we had broken them.

The forest was ours.

But as I looked back over the battlefield, I saw Seraphina kneeling beside a frost-burned Nyx, shielding her with her own cloak.

And her eyes met mine.

Conflicted.

Angry.

And undeniably—curious.

The war wasn’t over.

But today?

We won the first checkmate.

And now the king was cornered.

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