I Guard The Book That Slays Gods

"Remember, your mana must be let out little by little." Anya sniffled and rubbed her nose, her eyes lazily rolling toward Raiden at a slower pace. "I've taught you enough, and I believe you can do better on your own now. But I don't know if you're doing something wrong since your entire body is hurting."

Raiden offered her a warm smile as he struggled to pull on his black shirt, his fingers clumsy against the buttons. Heat coursed through his body while tremors ran along his frame, each movement sluggish and unsteady, like someone relearning how to inhabit their own skin.

Anya's gaze lingered on him, soft and concerned as she took in his pathetic condition. After a moment, she shrugged her shoulders. "I wouldn't have fought you if I knew you were this sick," she sighed. "Now I feel bad."

"Raiden turned to her. "Don't worry, Anya," he said, voice cracking. "I don't think this is a normal situation." His eyes narrowed as he drifted into his own daze.

He was certain this wasn't normal. Sure, he had regeneration abilities, not healing ones, but he doubted that was the issue—without question, his ability should have instantly regrown stronger cells to fight off any disease. What made it stranger was that he hadn't actually fought Anya at all.

She'd kept him at arm's length, asking him to rapidly increase his energy to match hers, something he still couldn't manage. No strikes. No damage. And it had all started the moment his system updated his stats. Could it somehow be related to his abilities?

"If you say so, Raven," Anya said, moving toward the door. She paused at the threshold and turned back. "Once you're done with your mission, you will be coming back, right?"

Her words snapped Raiden from his daze, and he turned to face her. His golden eyes found her dark ones, and the gentleness he saw there sent an unexpected chill through his feverish body.

He felt perplexed. He'd only ever seen her wear that lazy, bored expression, but this—this spoke of genuine care and concern. Before he knew it, he was smiling again. "Of course, Anya. I'll be back before you know it."

Anya held that same expression for a brief moment longer, then opened the door and slipped out without another word.

"Poor girl… she's blaming herself for this," Raiden muttered, glancing down at his hand as it trembled.

"I must hurry; Noelle might be waiting." Without hesitation, he gathered himself and hurried from the room.

He was glad he'd already said his goodbyes to Snow and Captain Kimberly, because even as he left the Chaos Armada quarters, each step felt impossibly heavy. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite feeling strangely lighter than usual.

Moving as steadily as he could manage, he made his way toward the massive wall, weaving through the crowd while his body swayed dangerously from side to side, catching himself just before each potential fall.

The moment he stepped outside the wall, darkness had swallowed everything. Though his vision made it all crystal clear as daylight, the sight only deepened his sense of defeat.

His heart pounded like never before, each step feeling as though he carried a ten-foot giant on his back. Staring at the remaining meters ahead, he began to reconsider his decision to leave that day.

His body felt like it was being torn apart, and worse still, he had no idea what was wrong with him. The uncertainty made him feel unhinged, almost psychotic, as he began murmuring incomprehensible words born of pure frustration.

Yet he knew this journey was worth it. Given his unexplainable condition, the one person who might have answers was Ash—she was the only one capable of inflicting such random pain on him.

With a deep sigh, he started toward the arena's entrance. People streamed past him, some heading to their respective Armadas, others making their way toward the desert that stretched above to his right.

However, a crowd in the distance caught his attention. They had gathered right where he was meant to meet Noelle, and from the heavy murmuring, something suspicious was clearly happening.

He knew that if something was wrong, Noelle had to be involved. He couldn't explain why, but the hunch was too strong to ignore. She was overconfident enough to create exactly this kind of situation.

He paused, activating his enhanced sight to peer at the crowd, but there were too many bodies for him to see through. Without wasting a moment, he reached out and caught a passerby by the shoulder.

"What's going on over there?" he asked, barely glancing at the person he'd grabbed as his eyes remained fixed on the crowd, still trying to pierce through.

"Four people from Justice Armada challenged Wolf, their new vice captain, to a duel," the man said with a laugh. "And trust me, they're absolutely demolishing that fraud."

Raiden's expression twisted with irritation as he released the man. Noelle had told him she would fight her way through to create an opportunity for them to leave the Chaos Armada, but he hadn't realized she meant it quite so literally.

Despite his strange uneasiness, he clenched his fists and forced his body into motion. He didn't have time to spare. If Noelle was in trouble, then so was his familiar Ash, and worse, her situation could easily jeopardize their mission. At least, that's the excuse he gave himself.

As he approached, fury alone triggered his transformation instinctively. His dark hair shifted to pure white, bright as starlight; wild yet somehow peaceful, with a fluffy, dreamy quality that flowed freely and spiked in all directions.

Glowing dark tattoos spread across his hands, trailing down over his knuckles and spiraling around his wrists. The markings on his fingers flowed smoother, like coursing energy, while circular designs emerged along his neck, curving from jawline to collar and beyond.

As the dark sigil materialized on his forehead, his presence became impossible to ignore. Everyone turned toward him, eyes widening in shock, while Raiden tried to summon his usual devilish smile. His condition wouldn't let him manage it, twisting his expression into something far more sinister.

But he knew there was something his uneasy situation couldn't rob him of: the fact that he was going to whip their ass.