Author’s Note: Hey everyone! The past few weeks were full of festival celebrations, which kept me super busy and threw my upload schedule completely all over the place. Thank you so much for your patience throughout it all! Now that things have settled down, I’m back to uploading regularly. Enjoy the Chapter!
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Rudra walked with a steady, unhurried pace toward the warehouse, his boots crunching lightly against the gravel as he muttered nonsense under his breath to his system.
Beside him, Ciri kept shooting sideways glances—half-curious, half-suspicious—trying to piece together his erratic muttering.
When the derelict warehouse finally loomed ahead, Ciri immediately squared her shoulders, ready to burst through the rotting wooden doors to rescue Dudu. Before she could take a step, Rudra’s hand shot out, grabbing her wrist and yanking her back.
Ciri whipped around, her mouth flying open to snap at him, but Rudra’s hand clamped instantly over her mouth. His expression remained ice-cold, his eyes locked entirely on the building ahead.
Without a word, a crushing, suffocating weight rolled off him in an invisible wave. Conqueror’s Haki swept through the wood and mortar like a shockwave.
Inside, the muffled shouts and footsteps stopped dead. A collective thud echoed through the floorboards as every guard collapsed unconscious.
Rudra dropped his hand and released her wrist.
"You can go now," he said flatly, glancing down at her. "And be back fast."
Ciri stared at him, her brows furrowed in pure confusion. She had no idea what had just happened, but sensing no lingering threat, she shook her head and slipped through the doors, Dandelion scurrying anxiously right behind her, leaving Rudra standing alone in the quiet street.
A few minutes later, the heavy wooden doors swung open. Ciri emerged, supporting a bruised and battered Dudu over her shoulder.
She looked up at Rudra, her eyes wide with burning questions. Every single guard inside had been slumped unconscious on the floor—she hadn’t even needed to draw her sword. But before she could open her mouth to ask what he’d done, Rudra checked his wrist.
"I said come back quickly," Rudra said, raising an eyebrow.
Ciri scowled, adjusting Dudu’s weight. "We moved as fast as we could, okay?"
"Fine," Rudra shrugged, already turning around. "Let’s just move before this place gets flattened."
Ciri and Dandelion exchanged a bewildered glance. "Flattened?" Dandelion echoed. "What are you—"
Rudra silently pointed up.
They looked toward the clouds—and froze in horror.
A glowing crimson streak cut through the sky, dragging a tail of smoke and heat straight toward the warehouse.
"We’re going to die!" Dandelion shrieked, clutching his hat with both hands. "A rock from the heavens! This is how the great Dandelion perishes!"
Rudra glanced back, unfazed. "Then just run."
"Run where?!" Ciri shouted, her eyes locked on the descending fireball. "A meteor that size will wipe out the entire district! We won’t make it out either way!"
Rudra paused, blinking. "Oh. Right. Forgot about the splash damage."
He tilted his head back, watching the fiery rock plummet. As he activated Kamui, the air directly beneath the meteor began to warp and twist. A massive spatial spiral opened like a tear in reality, swallowing the blazing projectile whole.
The roaring wind vanished. The sky cleared. The meteor was gone—just like that.
Dandelion’s jaw practically hit the cobbles. Ciri stared in total disbelief, her mouth slightly agape.
Rudra dropped his hand back into his pocket as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. "Problem solved. Let’s go."
Ciri’s mind was short-circuiting. Between the instantly unconscious guards and the swallowed meteor, being around Rudra felt like navigating a fever dream. She drew a sharp breath, determined to demand an actual explanation—
Reality snapped.
Her vision blurred into a dizzying smear of motion. In a fraction of a second, her boots were planted right where Rudra had just been standing.
"Ahhhh!" Dandelion shrieked behind her.
Ciri whipped around. Standing where she had been a heartbeat ago was Rudra—pinned in place by a jagged blade driven clear through his chest.
Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth as a shadowy figure leaned close, whispering a single, unintelligible sentence into his ear. With a sickening squelch, the attacker yanked the blade free and dissolved into thin air.
Rudra swayed, the gaping wound exposed, before crumpling onto the cobblestones.
"Rudra!" Ciri screamed.
Dropping Dudu to the ground, she sprinted over and fell to her knees beside him. She pressed her hands frantically against his chest, panic surging through her. "Stay with me! Dandelion, do something! Rudra, keep your eyes on me!"
Rudra let out a ragged cough, his eyes heavy as he looked up at her. He reached up weakly, trembling fingers barely catching the edge of her sleeve.
"Ciri..." he rasped, his voice barely a whisper. "It’s... it’s over for me..."
"Don’t talk like that!" Ciri snapped, her voice cracking. "You swallowed a damn meteor five minutes ago—you can’t die to a stab wound!"
"Fate’s a real bitch, huh?" Rudra chuckled weakly, coughing up a drop of blood. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before looking back at her. "Listen... I have... one final wish..."
"Anything. What is it?"
"I’ve lived a long, chaotic life," he whispered, staring into her eyes with pure, tragic drama. "I just... don’t want to die without knowing what it’s like... to kiss a beautiful girl..."
Ciri froze. Dandelion gasped loudly from three feet away.
She looked at the bloody tear in his shirt, then at his pale, dying face. Her mind raced—he had helped save Dudu, saved the district, and swapped places to take a fatal blow meant for her.
"Fine," she breathed, leaning down. "Just hold on."
She pressed her lips to his.
It was meant to be a quick, solemn farewell. But two seconds passed. Then five. Then ten.
When Ciri tried to pull back, Rudra’s hand—which had just been trembling weakly—locked onto the back of her neck in a vice grip, holding her gently in place. Fifteen seconds. Twenty.
Ciri’s eyes snapped open mid-kiss.
Rudra’s eyes were wide open, staring right back at her, practically sparkling with amusement.
She shoved him off with enough force to shatter ribs. Stumbling backward, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her face flushing red with embarrassment and rising fury.
Rudra sat straight up, casually wiping the blood from his chin. He flashed her a bright, effortless smirk and gave her a slow wink.
"Appreciate it," he said smoothly. "Best dying wish ever."
Without a trace of weakness, he sprang to his feet in one fluid motion, rolling his shoulders as if he hadn’t just been impaled. Beneath his torn shirt, the wound on his chest was already knitting back into smooth, unbroken skin.
A deafening silence settled over the alley.
Dandelion stared, his jaw dropped so low it nearly touched his collar. Ciri stood frozen, her hand still hovering over her mouth, her eyes darting between his intact chest and his smug, grinning face.
"You asshole," Ciri finally whispered.
Rudra raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "Hey, you’re the one who fell for it. Though I have to admit—your technique needs work. A bit tense, don’t you think?"
Veins practically bulged on Ciri’s forehead. "I’ll show you tense!"
In a flash of silver, she drew her sword and lunged, thrusting the tip straight toward his heart to carve a second hole in his chest.
Rudra didn’t even draw a weapon. He casually leaned back, the steel whistling past his collar by a fraction of an inch.
"Ooh, spicy," Rudra teased, stepping aside as Ciri pivoted and brought the sword around in a vicious horizontal arc. He ducked under it effortlessly, laughing as her rapid strikes shattered the nearby cobblestones. "Is this how you treat your savior? I took a blade for you!"
"You used me for a kiss, you unmitigated bastard!" Ciri yelled, her attacks accelerating, fueled by pure rage and embarrassment.
"And it was worth every strike," Rudra chuckled, fluidly dodging three lightning-fast jabs in a row.
A few paces away, Dandelion stood with his hands on Dudu’s shoulders, watching the blur of flashing steel and Rudra’s casual evasions. He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "You know, Dudu... that fake-dying technique was absolute genius. Dramatic, tragic, foolproof. I might try that on my next mistress."
Dudu winced, glancing up at the bard. "Sure. Assuming you can survive a broadsword through the ribcage."
Dandelion opened his mouth to retort, thought about it for two seconds, and quietly shut it.
"Alright, alright, truce!" Rudra called out, catching the flat of Ciri’s blade between two fingers and freezing her momentum mid-air.
Ciri tried to yank her sword free, but it wouldn’t budge. She glared daggers at him, breathing heavily.
"Calm down, fiery," Rudra said, his tone softening just enough to break her momentum. "We’re done here. Let me get us out of the street before more nonsense drops on us."
He released her blade, stepped back, and motioned toward Dandelion and Dudu. "Gather round. Shortcut back."
Once they were all within arm’s reach, Rudra grabbed them.
Flash.
The alleyway vanished. In the blink of an eye, the noise of the city fell away, replaced by the warm wooden walls of their upstairs tavern room.
Dudu stumbled, clutching his head in disorientation. "What in the world..."
"Spatial magic," Ciri muttered, finally sheathing her sword, though her eyes were still burning holes into Rudra.
After a quick check to make sure Dudu was unhurt and a quiet discussion about where he could lay low, Dandelion escorted the Doppler down the back stairs to secure a safe house, promising to check in come morning.
The heavy oak door clicked shut, leaving only the soft flicker of the candle flame.
Silence stretched between them. Rudra casually leaned against the window frame, hands in his pockets, while Ciri stood by the table with her arms tightly crossed, staring right at him.
Rudra tilted his head, a slow, infuriating grin spreading across his face. "What?" he asked, trailing his gaze over her. "Didn’t get enough down in the alley? If you wanted round two, all you had to do was ask."
Ciri didn’t blush this time, nor did she draw her sword. Her expression remained razor-sharp, her green eyes locked onto his without a flicker of amusement.
"Explanations. Now," she said, her voice deadpan and unyielding. "The instant knockout, the swallowed meteor, spatial teleportation, surviving a sword through the heart... I’m not taking another step until you lay out what the hell you actually are."
Rudra let out a long, exaggerated sigh, his head thumping back against the wooden frame. "That sounds like an awful lot of talking for a guy who just got impaled, and warped four people across the city," he groaned, pushing himself off the sill. "It can wait until tomorrow, my dear. I am dead tired."
"Rudra, I swear to—"
Before she could finish, Rudra collapsed face-first onto the mattress, his boots dangling off the edge. Within three seconds, a soft, heavy exhale cut through the quiet room. He was out cold.
Ciri stood frozen, her mouth still half-open in a protest that had nowhere to go. She stared at his limp form, her fists clenching and unclenching at her sides.
"...Unbelievable," she muttered under her breath.
Pinching the bridge of her nose, she let out a long, defeated sigh. She walked over, unbuckled his boots, and pulled them off one by one, dropping them to the floor. Grabbing the heavy woolen blanket from the foot of the mattress, she dragged it over his shoulders and covered him up.
She stood over him for a moment, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest—completely intact, without a single mark left on his shirt.
"Enjoy your sleep," Ciri whispered, turning toward the small cot in the corner of the room. "Because tomorrow morning, you’re not dodging a single question."