Beneath the sprawling canopy painted in camouflage hues, thrill-seekers clad in sleek, silver-gray leather darted through a mock battlefield, clutching rifles that mimicked the iconic M4 and AK designs.
The air thrummed with excitement, a chaotic dance of strategy and adrenaline.
Noi didn’t recognize the material of these replica firearms, but the way they spat out pellets infused with magic stone powder—blazing from the barrels with startling speed—suggested they were crafted from something formidable.
When a pellet struck a player’s leather suit, the silver-gray fabric flared into a vivid, burnt-orange hue, marking a hit with dramatic flair.
The last player standing fell under a barrage from a burly, dark-skinned man wielding a machine gun.
His suit blazed red before fading to a dull, ashen black, signaling defeat.
These suits were developed by the Star Alliance who were known for their excellence in technology, shifting colors to reflect the extent and location of the magic powder’s impact—a visual gauge of “injury.”
Noi, observing the mock battle from the sidelines, tilted her head and mused, “Not much different from real-life CS, is it?”
“Real-life CS? What’s that?” Lyte, unfamiliar with the term, turned to her with a curious frown.
“Oh, nothing.” Noi stuck out her tongue, a playful dodge to cover her slip.
The ceiling above was draped in dark green netting, and she leaned into her charm to sidestep further questions.
A transmigrator’s secrets weren’t meant to spill so carelessly—she’d nearly let her guard down.
As the game ended and players shed their leather suits, retreating to the rest area, Noi and Lyte approached the towering, dark-skinned man who’d clinched the match.
They’d scouted earlier, learning that Ahei, the supervisor, was in the midst of the battle, so they’d waited, watching.
“What do you want with me?” Ahei asked, wiping sweat from his bald head with a towel.
His sly gaze flicked toward Noi, one eyebrow cocking suggestively.
The bikini-clad girl, unfazed, sipped orange juice through a translucent blue straw, her pale pink lips drawing the liquid with deliberate calm.
Noi shuffled behind Lyte, and Ahei’s eyes followed her, only to meet the young hero’s gaze—sharp and cold as a honed blade.
“We’re here to check the surveillance footage. This is the Demon Suppression Bureau’s token.” Lyte held out the token, displaying both sides for Ahei’s inspection.
Ahei, unimpressed, yawned as he gave the token a cursory glance before tossing it back.
“This is Boss Lutos’s turf. The Bureau’s tricks don’t work here.”
Lyte’s lips twisted into a crooked smile.
In the past, a remark like that would’ve earned Ahei a swift fist to the face.
The empire kept these leeches fed, but a hero held the right to deal with such dead weight when necessary.
Times had changed, though.
Nearing thirty in mental age and with Noi watching, Light opted for restraint.
“Is that so? Then what do I need to do to access the footage?”
His smile was warm, almost too friendly, but something in his curved eyes made Ahei feel that refusal might invite something terrifying.
The supervisor’s bravado faltered under that unsettling grin, triggering a mental note he’d been drilled to remember.
Ahei wasn’t known for his sharp wit—his bosses, wary of his blunders, had prepared a script for just such occasions.
With Noi sipping her juice and Light’s smile unnerving him, Ahei pulled out his scriptbook with a flourish and began to read aloud in a stilted tone.
“Uh… what are you here for? Why do you need the footage? Ugh, what a hassle. Just fight me already.”
The script’s footnote screamed:Â ‘Delay as long as possible. Do NOT engage them in combat.’
Ahei, however, found it all dreadfully dull.Â
Why bother with lies when he could just take them on?
His bosses clearly underestimated him, and that stung his pride.
Tossing the script aside, Ahei rubbed his calloused palms together and declared, “I’ll take you on, hero from the capital. Beat me, and you can see the footage.”
Lyte shrugged, accepting the challenge with a casual, “My pleasure.”
As the venue’s supervisor, Ahei barked orders, and the staff swiftly cleared out bystanders and tidied the littered arena.
Noi, having drained her orange juice and tossed the cup into a bright green recycling bin, let her antenna-like hair droop.
“Do I have to join in?” she groaned, hoping to slack off.
Lyte ran a hand through his sweat-soaked, tousled hair and shot her a teasing smirk.
“Don’t worry, my little angel. My back’s broad enough to carry your… impressive figure.”
Shameless man, Noi thought, grumbling inwardly.
Acting all innocent while eating my tofu, huh?
Any other girl might’ve blushed and squirmed at the innuendo, but not her.
Still, when it came time to climb onto Lyte’s back, she pressed her hands against his broad, solid shoulders, feeling the firm muscle beneath.
Was this what they called “slim in clothes, ripped underneath”?
Caught up in her thoughts, Noi’s cheeks flushed as she ran her hands over Lyte’s back, barely noticing his slight reaction.
He was too busy checking the straps’ security and inspecting the pair of pistols Ahei had handed him for any tampering.
The challenge was clear: a mock gunfight in the canopy arena.
To up the stakes, Ahei proposed they both wear blindfolds.
Lyte could have an observer on his back to guide him, while Ahei, brimming with confidence, claimed he needed no such help to win.
No leather suits this time—the magic powder pellets would sting on impact, a test of who could endure longer.
Ahei’s goal was to hunt Lyte down and take him out.
Lyte’s was to either shoot a balloon at the arena’s center or incapacitate Ahei.
“All checked. Ready to climb on?” Lyte secured his belt and straps, crouching to let Noi hop onto his nearly six-foot frame.
He avoided meeting her eyes, hiding the nervous flush creeping up his neck.
Their past embraces had been fleeting, born of necessity or posturing amid conflict.
This was different—strapped together in front of a crowd, the intimacy dialed to maximum embarrassment.
Noi traced her fingers along Lyte’s sculpted shoulder blades, feeling his slight tremor of nerves and suppressing a giggle.
Big talker earlier, but now so shy?
She wasn’t some sheltered maiden, bound by rigid conventions.
Lyte’s earlier bear hugs had already broken her in, so to speak.
With practiced ease, she climbed onto his back.
Lyte’s hands swiftly supported her, lifting her with care.
Her long, pale legs wrapped around his waist, her gold-ribboned sandals discarded, leaving her bare feet swaying gently with each step.
He secured her legs with a belt, her soft hands resting lightly on his collarbone, encircling his neck.
“Comfortable?” he asked, voice softened.
“Your shoulders are pretty cozy,” Noi replied with a playful lilt.
Her faint, sweet scent hit him like a wave, muddling his thoughts.
A former peak warrior, his senses were razor-sharp, and now, with his mind unburdened, every breath and shift of the bikini-clad girl on his back felt electrifying.
Addictive.
He couldn’t get enough.
“Time for the blindfold~” Noi teased, her hands covering his eyes before slipping the cloth into place.
Darkness sharpened his senses further, amplifying the softness pressed against his back.
Damn it.
For once, the tables had turned.
After all of Lyte’s teasing, Noi relished her chance to strike back, smirking to herself.
In the days since the knighting ceremony, she’d seen his kinder, nobler side—and the heavy duty he carried.
Whatever hostility he’d once held toward her was gone, replaced by genuine care.
Her instincts told her to trust that.
In just a week, she’d gone from wary cooperation to tentative acceptance of Lyte.
It wasn’t rock-solid yet, but she was willing to nurture it.
“Vivi, give me a little encouragement?”
Lyte tilted his head, lifting the blindfold to meet her rose-red eyes.
His gaze held no real need for reassurance—just an excuse to connect.
Noi leaned in, wrapping her arms around him, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered, “Do your best, my knight.”
Ahei, who’d been waiting impatiently in the rest area, stormed in, only to be hit with a faceful of their flirtation.
“Enough already! Let’s start the match!” he bellowed, determined to crush this insufferable couple and wash away the sting of their public display.
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