The forest air bit into my bare skin like a thousand tiny needles, the snow crunching underfoot as I moved silently between the trees. My breath came in controlled puffs of white, my entire body tensed, senses stretched to their limits.
In my hands, the bow felt like an extension of myself, the arrow nocked and ready.
This is insane.
I cursed inwardly, recalling how I'd somehow agreed to this new version of torture—spending weeks in the freezing wilderness, half-naked, just to "increase my resistance against the cold and improve senses."
Virion's idea of training was less about improvement and more about survival. And even more so about entertainment. He liked to see me suffer.
But it wasn't without benefits either.
In the first week, I'd been shivering so badly I could barely hold the bow. Now?
Now, although I still felt the cold, I could move this much without limiting my capabilities.
Progress, I guess.
I pressed against a thick pine, steadying my breathing. The forest was silent—too silent for my advantage.
Then—
Swoosh.
My ears twitched. The sound was faint, almost imperceptible, but I'd learned to recognize it by now.
Now.
I spun out from behind the tree, bow raised, arrow already loosed before I'd fully aimed.
Whizz!
The arrow tore through the air—missing the darting, holographic figure by mere centimeters.
Tch.
No time to dwell. I was already moving, bare feet light against the snow, trying to minimize sound. My muscles burned, but I pushed forward, weaving between trees, listening for that telltale flap of wings.
Then—
My foot slipped.
Damn—!
I pitched forward, the world tilting. But even as I fell, my ears caught it again—that same flapping sound, closing in fast.
Got you.
Twisting mid-fall, I drew and released in one fluid motion.
Swoosh!
The arrow struck true, slamming into the holographic monster's wing. A small explosion of light burst on impact, the illusion flickering out of existence just as my back hit the snow, sliding several meters before coming to a stop.
For a second, I just lay there, breathing hard, the cold seeping into my skin.
Then—laughter.
"Jie~ Jie~ Jie~"
Deep, echoing, and entirely too amused.
"Tch," I muttered, not bothering to sit up. "Using tricks again."
Virion materialized beside me, arms crossed, that infuriating smirk plastered across his face. "And yet, you fell for it."
I shot him a glare. "You made it slippery on purpose just now."
"Of course I did." He grinned. "Enemies don't fight fair. Why should I?"
I groaned, finally pushing myself up. Snow clung to my back, melting against my skin. "You clearly did it to enjoy, admit it, master."
"Ok, but you're improving, isn't that enough?" He tossed me a simple cloak—finally, mercy—before nodding toward the arrow embedded in a tree. "That last shot wasn't bad."
"Not bad?" I arched a brow. "I hit a moving target while falling."
"Mm." Virion's smirk didn't fade. "But you missed the previous one."
I opened my mouth to retort—then stopped.
Because suddenly, I remembered why I'd come looking for him in the first place.
"Master, why don't we go fishing again?"
Virion's emerald serpentine eyes narrowed to slits. "Got something to say?"
I nodded, my breath still visible in the cold air.
"Alright." Virion hummed, then abruptly turned and began floating through the trees. "Follow me."
"Eh?" I blinked. "Aren't we... leaving?"
His chuckle echoed unnervingly through the frozen forest. "We can fish here too. And it'll be beneficial for you, your resistance is still so low. Anyway, be quick."
I hesitated for only a moment before trudging after him, my bare feet leaving deep prints in the snow. After about ten minutes of walking—Virion floating effortlessly ahead while I struggled through the drifts—we arrived at a completely frozen lake.
Two fishing holes had already been cut into the thick ice, with simple wooden stools placed beside them. Virion settled onto one, conjuring a fishing rod from thin air.
I stared dumbfounded, so this is what he meant by that.
He smirked. "Now sit. The fish won't catch themselves."
With a sigh, I took my place, accepting the proffered rod while trembling from the cold. The moment my line hit the water, I began:
"The town and the academy might be in danger."
Virion's tail stilled on his rod. His gaze slid toward me, sharp with sudden interest. "Elaborate."
And so I did—explaining everything from Emory's discovery of the suspicious inquiries to the identical payment methods, the potential disguises, and our theory about a planned monster attack.
Virion listened in silence, his expression unreadable. When I finished—roughly five minutes later—he simply nodded.
"I see..."
That was all he said before turning back to his fishing line.
The silence stretched between us, broken only by the occasional crack of shifting ice.
I studied Virion's profile as he focused on his fishing line. Normally, his expression would be alight with mischief, his serpentine eyes gleaming with chaotic energy. But now?
Now he looked... serious.
Too serious.
That alone told me more than any words could.
After a long moment of silence, I spoke again. "Master... why do you think this assassin hasn't attacked me directly yet?"
The line in Virion's tail didn't so much as twitch. "Hmm?"
"If they're planning to kill me, wasn't I an 'easy' target this whole time? Are they aware of something? For example..." I frowned. "Did they discover your presence?"
"...Or do they just enjoy overly complicated schemes?"
Virion's tail flicked—the only sign he'd heard me. Then, after a deliberate pause, he answered, "It's probably related to their mission parameters." His voice carried an unfamiliar edge. "Killing you might not be their top priority. Easier to handle everything at once when their main operation begins."
I nodded slowly, but something about that explanation didn't sit right.
If they're powerful enough to orchestrate a monster attack on the academy...
Then taking me out beforehand would be child's play.
Unless...
The possibilities swirled in my mind like the snow around us:
First scenario: I really was not the real target at all. Just overthinking it.
Second: They want me alive this time. And it will be easier to kidnap during the chaos of an attack.
Third, and most troubling: Someone else is interfering, deliberately delaying the assassin.
Whatever the truth was, one thing became clear—I didn't need to walk on eggshells every time I left the academy for a while.
Turning to Virion, I voiced the obvious solution:
"Master, why don't you just get rid of the assassin?"