Sasha couldn't sleep.
The third day had come, and not a single one of the fallen figures in the training field had stirred.
The wind whispered through the village like a quiet warning, but no voice eased the tightening in her chest.
She had kept her mouth shut, forced herself to trust Kyle, to trust the process he had insisted on. But enough was enough.
She stormed into the command building, ignoring the startled look from the guard at the door. She didn't knock.
She slammed the door open and marched up to Kyle, who sat at his desk going through parchment reports.
His expression remained calm as he looked up, but he didn't get the chance to speak before she grabbed the front of his collar.
"Kyle! It's been three days! Three days, and they haven't moved! They're going to start suffering from hunger, dehydration—gods, even mana poisoning! What are you doing?!"
She snapped, her voice shaking with barely contained emotion.
Kyle didn't resist her grip. He simply looked at her with those steady, tired eyes.
"Calm down? I stayed calm for three days. I believed in you! I kept telling myself this was the right decision. But they're not waking up! This isn't training anymore—this is torment!"
She echoed, disbelief in her voice.
Kyle reached up and gently pried her hands away from his tunic.
"I warned them of the risks. And we agreed to this plan. You were in that meeting."
"I agreed because I trusted you to know what you were doing. But that trust doesn't mean I'll sit here and do nothing while they starve!"
She said through clenched teeth.
"They won't starve. Their bodies are in a slowed state, almost suspended by the mana itself. They're not burning through food or water like we do. Their inner worlds are absorbing mana instead, stabilizing them until they can process it all. That's why we made sure they were physically ready before the ritual."
"That doesn't mean it's safe!"
"It was never safe. We knew that. They knew that. The only thing more dangerous than this is being weak when the divine comes."
Sasha turned away, breathing hard. Her hands trembled at her sides.
"Then what am I supposed to do? Just sit and wait? Pretend everything's fine while I watch over a field of unconscious bodies?"
Kyle stood up and approached her. He placed a hand on her shoulder—not to restrain, but to ground her.
"I know you want to help. But right now, any interference could break their concentration. You'll do more harm than good. However…"
He stepped back and turned to a drawer in his desk, pulling out a folded parchment.
"There is something else you can do. Something useful."
Sasha blinked, still fuming.
"I need someone to help me find a proper doctor for this village. A real alchemist or healer. Someone powerful enough to brew quality potions, treat mana injuries, and help us grow medicinal herbs. With our people growing stronger, we'll need support to match."
He handed her the parchment.
"I've marked a few places where rumors speak of skilled alchemists or herbalists. I'll go with you."
Sasha looked at the paper, then at him.
"You want me to just… go on a trip while they're still unconscious?"
"It'll take your mind off this. Give you something to focus on. If we wait too long, we won't be able to find someone before the Goddess's puppets make their next move."
Kyle's voice dropped slightly, more somber.
"We both know the divine isn't going to give us time. If you want to protect Amanda, Melissa, and the others… then give them someone capable of saving their lives once this is over."
Sasha stared at him, heart torn. Every instinct screamed to stay. To watch. To wait. But Kyle's words made sense, even if she didn't want them to.
She slowly folded the parchment and nodded.
"Alright. I'll go. But if anything happens while I'm gone—"
"I'll send word. And I'll keep them safe."
Kyle promised but Sasha still looked worried about what would happen next.
Not far from the quiet, tense village, the tranquility of the forest was suddenly shattered by the heavy thud of boots and the rumble of carriages rolling through the dirt.
Birds scattered from the treetops as the sound of clanging armor grew louder, followed by shouted commands.
A group of villagers—mostly farmers gathering herbs and firewood—froze mid-step as they heard the noise.
Their eyes widened when they glimpsed movement between the trees. Curious and cautious, they crouched behind thick underbrush and dared to peek.
Uniformed soldiers, dozens if not hundreds, were marching in formation with sharp discipline.
The lead rider waved a banner none of the villagers recognized, but what made their blood run cold were the words shouted from the front ranks.
"We'll secure the area and eliminate any resistance! Purge the heretics if necessary!"
The farmers' faces paled. There was no mistaking it—this army wasn't on a peaceful march. They had come to "cleanse" the village.
Without hesitation, the group turned and sprinted back toward the village, cutting through the trees as fast as their feet could carry them.
Years of mana practice had strengthened their bodies, and adrenaline pushed them faster.
But the soldiers weren't blind. One spotted the escaping group and gave a sharp whistle.
"Runaways! After them!"
Several soldiers broke formation to chase the villagers through the forest.
But the villagers, nimble and fueled by panic, knew the terrain better. They leapt over roots and slid down muddy hills with practiced ease.
After a frantic, breathless run, they reached the outskirts of the village.
Ignoring the startled guards, the farmers barreled into the command building and burst into Kyle's office.
"Young Master! There's an army! Not far from the village—they're coming fast!"
One of them cried, breath ragged.
Kyle looked up from the maps spread across his desk, frowning.
"They're saying they want to purge the area. 'Cleanse the heretics.' That's what we heard. It's definitely not friendly!"
Kyle stood immediately.
"How long before they arrive?"
The lead farmer glanced at the others, who all nodded.
"If they keep up their pace, they'll be here by sundown."
Kyle's expression darkened as he absorbed the news.
He walked to the window, looking out at the village where so many of his people—his comrades—still lay unconscious from training. His fingers curled into a fist.
He turned back to the villagers.
"Good work getting back. Get everyone to the shelters and fortify the inner perimeter. I'll handle the rest."
They bowed quickly and ran to spread the warning. Alone once more, Kyle reached for his sword and armor.
The Goddess had made its move. Now, he would make his.
Kyle strapped on his sword, his eyes narrowing with purpose.
"If they think they can touch this village while I still breathe, they're welcome to try."
He muttered. The distant thunder of marching feet was growing louder. Kyle stepped outside, the wind catching his cloak. War was knocking—he was ready to answer.
If you read FL r18 books, my friend has one for you.