Chapter 46: Stealth, Tracking, and the Beast Saint.
As Skoll, Ace, and Frosti prepared to resume their beating with menacing intent, the acolyte youth quickly cowered, attempting to apologize.
Before he could finish saying “sorry,” Skoll charged forward, landing an uppercut that cut him off.
Skoll’s fists rained down like a storm, pummeling the acolyte.
Suna timed her healing magic every five seconds, keeping him intact.
After nearly a minute as a punching bag, the acolyte, sobbing, stammered out apologies.
Satisfied, Skoll patted his shoulder, sneering, “Since you’ve apologized, I forgive you. Be careful with your words and respect others.”
Nodding frantically, the acolyte, though healed, scrambled away as if fleeing a beast.
“Saintess Suna, you’re quite the schemer,” Mist teased.
Suna waved dismissively at her and Boon. “Enough chatter. Get home before curfew.”
Urging them to leave, Suna moved to depart herself.
As she passed Skoll, cutting off his attempt to speak, she said, “I only needed to know why you beat him, and that’s apology enough. No need to invite me to dinner. Wouldn’t it be awkward to eat together?”
Skoll, his thoughts read, nodded and pressed further. “Fine. But one last question before you go: why did you believe us? You didn’t see the full situation.”
Waving as she walked away, Suna replied, “That’s my ability, sorry, it’s a secret.”
[I believed them because I know them, but I do have memory-probing skills—scarlet magic or my blessing. Skoll’s micro-expressions also confirmed his honesty. Best not to share that, though.]
Skoll said nothing more, watching her leave.
Exiting [Trial Stone Field], Suna stretched and headed to her inn.
Boon and Mist, parting at the entrance, waved.
“See you tomorrow, Saintess Suna. We’ll try to reach Victory Day Statue Plaza early,” Boon said.
“Bye, Saintess Suna. Go easier on us tomorrow,” Mist added.
Waving back, Suna replied, “Tomorrow, then. I’ll push you harder to build your strength.”
“Nooo!” Mist whined as Suna walked off.
Strolling through the dimming streets, magic stone lamps lit the way.
Though fewer people were out at dusk, the city remained lively compared to the near-empty small towns Suna knew.
“Big cities are bustling, but the trouble multiplies,” she muttered.
She sensed a presence trailing her, expertly concealed.
Even glancing back casually, she saw nothing, but the faint gaze raised her guard.
As a demon agent, despite her poor track record, her instincts were sharp.
[Who’s this tracker? Not ancient divine forces—no nauseating distortion. Demon hunters or temple? Probably temple.]
Musing, Suna weaved through crowds, diverting from her inn to the bustling commercial district.
Blending into shoppers, she quickened her pace, but the skilled tracker kept up despite the crowd.
Suna darted through narrow, winding alleys filled with thugs and vagrants, then the “Night Feast District” of love hotels, bars, and cabarets, slipping in and out of side exits.
Though she moved unnoticed, her tracker wasn’t invisible.
Sensing his growing frustration and fluctuating presence after multiple obstacles, Suna abruptly accelerated, vanishing like a gust of wind.
The tracker, hindered and impatient, lost her.
Searching with perception magic, he found no trace and stomped in frustration.
“Damn it, lost her. When did she notice me? Who is she?”
Muttering, the tracker wore a casual jacket, work pants, and a soft cap, but his upright posture and temple bracelet peeking from his sleeve betrayed his affiliation.
As he left the Night Feast District through a quiet alley to return to his base, he passed a corner and saw Suna sitting on a crate, drinking a beer.
“Hey, friend. Followed me this long—want a drink?” she said warmly, gesturing to another beer.
The young tracker, startled, leaped back, hand reaching for a weapon at his waist.