Chapter 177: That's Life

  The once-fiery battlefield was now nothing more than smoldering wreckage, the air filled with the acrid scent of charred flesh and burnt stone.

  Huntsman crouched, sifting through the blackened earth and molten remains, while Abel carefully stored away any useful samples in his bag of holding.

  As they gathered their things, Huntsman muttered to himself about the need to restock his resources to craft another leafy dummy. Losing one was frustrating—but ultimately, it had been a lifesaver.

  The remnants of the fiery hounds were unlike anything he had encountered before—scorched but still emanating residual heat, their flesh resistant to burning.

  There was much to study, much to understand.

  But despite his excitement over the spoils, Abel’s gaze drifted toward IronKnight.

  The armored apostle stood motionless in the distance, his imposing figure framed against the backdrop of the ruined town.

  He wasn’t looting.

  He wasn’t searching for survivors. He simply stood there, staring at the remains of what had once been Vitoria.

  It was a quiet grief, one not easily expressed in words.

  Abel wasn’t unfamiliar with this feeling. His mind wandered to his own village of Duskton—what if it had suffered the same fate? What if, one day, he returned to find it nothing more than ash and rubble?

  He clenched his jaw and shook off the thought.

  For IronKnight, it was different. He wasn't born here but had been stationed in Vitoria for years after becoming an Apostle.

  He had built relationships and earned the trust of the people; this was his home away from home, and now… it was all gone.

  Huntsman, who had been examining a strange bone shard, finally broke the silence. “I’m still shocked, you know,” he said, glancing at Abel. “I heard rumors about you, but to see you already at Rank 2? That’s no small feat. How’d you manage it?”

  Abel gave a small shrug, keeping his voice casual. “Guess I just got lucky.”

  But inwardly, he knew it was more than luck.

  The Ethereal Star in his body had propelled his growth, refining his runes at an unnatural pace.

  He could already tell that Huntsman, despite being a Rank 2 Apostle, was still in the midst of absorbing his second rune. This was a crucial stage—an essential process every apostle faced as they advanced in their rank. Fully digesting a rune required time and focus, as its power had to be carefully integrated into both the mana pool and the apostle’s very being.

  The power radiating from Huntsman was potent but not yet fully matured.

  IronKnight, on the other hand, had clearly fully integrated his runes, standing at the peak of Rank 2.

  Huntsman stood, brushing dust off his robe. “Well, whatever you’re doing, it’s working,” he said with an easy grin. “If you ever need a hunting partner or need into about plants an herbs, just ask.”

  Huntsman unpinned his badge from his chest and extended it toward Abel. The two tapped their badges together, adding each other as contacts just in case.

  Abel appreciated the gesture—having someone experienced in Huntsman’s field could prove invaluable.

  Suddenly, Abel's arm began to bleed profusely once more as the effects of the leaves had worn off, and a wave of lightheadedness swept over him from the blood loss.

  "That injury's deep," Huntsman muttered, stepping closer. He reached into his robe and pulled out a long, vibrant blue leaf. Carefully, he wrapped it around Abel’s wounded arm. The leaf emitted a faint glow, and within moments, the bleeding ceased, and a soothing warmth spread through Abel’s arm.

  "This is an Ocean Lover, they grow near the coasts during the summer. With a simple ritual, it ignites some of the latent mana within, allowing it to have a regenerative affect. This might help." Huntsman nodded at himself in approval with arms crossed.

  "Thank you," Abel said gratefully.

  "Don't mention it," Huntsman replied with a slight grin. "Just pay me back by lending a hand if anything like what happened to Vitoria happens to my town. I've got a fine garden back home, and it’d be a real shame to see it go up in flames."

  Abel chuckled at the remark but nodded in agreement.

  With that, he turned toward IronKnight and called out, “I’ll be heading out now. You know where to find me.”

  The black-armored knight didn’t turn around. He simply raised a hand in acknowledgment, still fixated on the destruction around him.

  Abel watched as Huntsman placed a wooden mask over his face, and in an instant, his body dissolved into a flurry of leaves, scattering with the wind before vanishing entirely.

  Abel exhaled sharply through his nose, impressed. The way apostles cultivated their abilities never ceased to amaze him—he had never seen nature affinity wielded with such versatility.

  His thoughts drifted to Greenthumb, who could manipulate plants with finesse but lacked the transformative power and raw physical prowess that Huntsman displayed.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  It made him wonder: were there other Star Affinity apostles out there? And if so, did they fight like he did?

  He dismissed the thought for now, shifting his focus back to his task. As he carefully avoided the fallen bodies littering the town, he continued to collect what he could from the battlefield.

  Though his expression remained neutral, a heaviness settled in his chest.

  This was a reality of their world. Towns fell. People died. And apostles—no matter how powerful—couldn’t always protect them.

  He knew that all too well.

  As Abel worked, his eyes once again flickered toward IronKnight.

  He didn’t say anything.

  But he understood.

  After a few more minutes of quiet contemplation, IronKnight finally turned, his heavy armored footsteps crunching against the charred remains of the town as he approached Abel.

  His towering, black-clad figure cast a long shadow under the flickering remnants of fire still smoldering in the distance.

  Despite his stoic presence, there was a heaviness in his stride—one that spoke of exhaustion not just of the body, but of the soul.

  Abel didn’t stop what he was doing.

  He continued gathering materials from the fallen creatures, carefully extracting remnants of their unique properties—charred bones, crystallized flames, blood, and remnants of their mana signatures. It was second nature to him now.

  Battles like these weren’t just fights—they were opportunities to learn, to adapt, and to prepare for whatever came next.

  IronKnight watched him for a moment but did not comment.

  He understood. Looting was merely another form of resourcefulness, and while some might frown upon it, Abel had proven himself. There were more pressing matters to dwell on.

  “This was a lesson,” IronKnight said at last, his deep voice slightly muffled behind his black helmet. “I lost people today—friends, fighters I’d known for years.” He exhaled heavily, like steam venting from a furnace. “But we don’t get to stop moving forward. Life as a magic user is hard. All we can do is strive to be better.”

  Abel paused, letting the words hang in the air before giving a small nod. He knew that feeling all too well.

  IronKnight crossed his arms, his gaze drifting back to the smoldering ruins. “My next move is clear. I’ll return to the tower and report everything that happened here.” He turned back to Abel. “I’ll also make sure they know about the help you and Huntsman provided. You’ll be rewarded for it.”

  Abel couldn’t help but smirk, though he kept it to himself. The tower still owed him for discovering the Flower Princess—rewards that had yet to materialize.

  They sure loved to take their time. But instead, he just shrugged. “We’re from the same tower. It’s my duty.”

  IronKnight studied him for a moment before his tone shifted. “Your power’s impressive,” he said. “Climbing to Rank 2 that fast… you must put in serious work.”

  Abel simply smiled. “Something like that.”

  Of course, he knew his progress wasn’t entirely conventional. His Ethereal Star had propelled him forward faster than most apostles, refining his body, his mana, his very being at a pace that defied logic.

  His second rune, World of the Rosette Celestial, had come to him through strange and unpredictable circumstances. If anything, Abel often felt like he was reacting to opportunities rather than planning them.

  IronKnight then asked, “What’s next for you? Have you thought about your third rune yet?”

  Abel was amused once again. If only the man knew—his second rune wasn’t even planned.

  He had stumbled upon it by chance. The idea of choosing his third rune with intent seemed almost foreign to him.

  But instead of saying that, Abel shook his head. “Not yet.”

  IronKnight nodded in understanding. “It’s not an easy decision,” he admitted. “But maybe, with enough contributions, you’ll be able to exchange them for a third rune in the future. If the tower dont have any runes for your affinity, im sure they will have info on ancient locations that might. The Star Affinity, though rare, has historical groups that revolve around it. You might be able to find something.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Abel said with a nod.

  IronKnight gave a small grunt, almost like approval, before turning back toward the path leading away from the ruined town.

  Neither of them spoke for a while, letting the weight of the moment settle.

  For Abel, the future was uncertain. But he had never feared uncertainty. If anything, he thrived in it.

  IronKnight adjusted the heavy gauntlets on his arms, his voice steady but carrying an undeniable weight. “I’ll be heading to the tower after I gather the remaining survivors and lead them to the closest town.” His tone was final—there was nothing left for him here.

  Abel watched him for a moment before asking, “And what about Vitoria?”

  IronKnight turned his helmeted gaze toward the smoldering remains of the town. Charred ruins, collapsed buildings, and roads coated in soot stretched before them.

  The acrid scent of burnt wood and flesh still lingered in the air, carried by the faintest breeze. What was once a bustling settlement now lay in absolute ruin, consumed by hellfire and death.

  “…It’s gone,” IronKnight finally said, his voice quieter. “At this point, there’s no return.”

  The words hung between them, heavy and absolute.

  “I’ve already been ordered by the tower to return,” he continued. “They seem to have a plan for all apostles whose villages and towns were destroyed by the calamity.” His gauntlet tightened into a fist at his side. “Something happened to Bask’s land. Recon groups are being assembled to survey the region, gather intelligence, and find out what exactly changed. I don’t know much more, but I’ll be briefed by the Vice Tower Master once I arrive.”

  Abel absorbed the information, his mind already racing with possibilities. If the tower was mobilizing reconnaissance teams, that meant whatever had happened wasn’t just some random disaster—it had altered the very foundation of Bask itself.

  A sudden thought struck him, and he asked, “Do you know what the calamity was?”

  IronKnight tilted his head slightly, as if considering his words. “I’ve only heard rumors,” he admitted. “There was a battle—between a dragon and a giant. A clash so violent that the world itself shook under their power.”

  Abel’s breath hitched slightly. A dragon?

  He knew giants existed—he had fought one himself. But a dragon? That was something else entirely.

  IronKnight shook his head. “That’s all I know. No one has confirmed it, and the details are scarce. But if it’s true, then it explains why the world shook the way it did.”

  The two apostles stood in silence for a moment, staring at the ruined town as if trying to grasp the sheer magnitude of what had occurred.

  Finally, IronKnight turned to Abel, his voice firm. “Thank you again for your help. I’ll make sure the tower knows of your efforts.”

  Abel smirked slightly. “Appreciate it. Just make sure you get yourself information on a good rune with those contribution points.”

  A small, almost imperceptible nod from the armored knight.

  Then, without another word, IronKnight turned and began his slow walk toward the outskirts of the ruined town, where the last remaining survivors were scattered.

  He blended in with the darkness before disappearing completely.

  Abel exhaled, looking around one final time before turning on his heel. Time to head back to Reinhart.