RoleplayNovel Chapter 531 Raj and Sato
Chapter 531 Raj and Sato
He has known Raj for a long time.
From the very beginning in the beginner village, this person has always been like this—he wants to challenge anyone strong he sees, even if he can't beat them, and he gets up and keeps going even after being knocked down.
He had never seen Raj say the words "can't see clearly" to anyone.
In his view, all his opponents were clear-cut.
He knew them all—the strong, the weak, the capable, and the incapable.
He knew exactly how much damage he could deal when he was low on health and how much damage he could withstand when in berserk mode.
But today, he said he "can't see clearly."
Arjun put down the whetstone and looked at Raj seriously.
The person sitting by the campfire didn't look frustrated or resentful.
It's excitement.
That's the look in a hunter's eyes when he sees his prey.
No, that's not right—it's the look in the eyes of someone being targeted by a hunter.
Raj is the one who's being targeted.
"You want to fight him?" Arjun asked.
Raj did not answer.
But his right hand gripped the battle axe stuck in the ground.
The hand was large, with thick knuckles and prominent veins on the back.
The moment he gripped the axe handle, the veins on his skin throbbed, as if something was surging from his body and flowing down his veins to his fingertips.
The bloodstains on the axe blade gleamed in the firelight, like a wound that hadn't fully dried.
He didn't speak.
But his battle axe had already answered for him.
The campfire crackled, and sparks flew into the air, illuminating the open space between the two men.
The night wind blew from afar, dispersing the smoke, extinguishing the sparks, and carrying away the cloud next to the moon.
Arjun stared at him for a long time.
Then he sighed and put the whetstone into his backpack.
"I knew it."
He muttered, "I knew it would be like this. You can't resist anything strong. Once, we were fighting a boss, and we couldn't beat it. We ended up getting beaten to a pulp, and I had to treat it for half an hour when we got back."
"That was an accident," Raj said.
"Accident my ass, you just can't beat them."
"So, am I practicing?"
Raj patted his battle axe, which emitted a dull hum. "Once I've practiced enough, I'll be able to beat him next time."
"What about Lin Tian?" Arjun asked. "How long do you plan to train before you can beat him?"
Raji thought about it.
The firelight danced on his face, illuminating his serious expression—his brows were slightly furrowed, his lips were pressed into a line, and his eyes were fixed on the campfire, as if he were calculating a very complicated account.
Finally, he grinned.
"I don't know," he said, "but we have to try."
Arjun remained silent.
He placed his staff across his knees and threw a piece of firewood into the campfire.
The firewood fell in, sending up a shower of sparks that crackled and popped as it burned.
"Alright," he said. "You won't listen to anything I say anyway. Go ahead and fight, I'll keep an eye on your health bar from behind."
Raj looked at him and suddenly smiled.
It was a strange laugh—not one of excitement, not one of seriousness, but a clumsy laugh, as if the person didn't know how to express gratitude.
"Thanks," he said.
Arjun rolled his eyes.
"Don't give me that. If you really want to thank me, then stop making me worry."
"That won't do." Raj stood up, pulled the battle axe from the ground, and slung it over his shoulder. The axe blade gleamed coldly in the moonlight.
"Worrying is your fate."
Arjun took a deep breath, telling himself not to get angry, not to argue with a battle maniac, not—
"I owed you something in my past life," he said finally.
Raji laughed heartily, and his laughter carried far and wide on the night wind.
The campfire was still burning, casting two shadows on the ground: one standing straight, carrying a battle axe, and the other sitting crookedly, clutching a staff.
The firelight stretched the shadows long, extending into the darkness.
In the distance, some wild beast let out a low, deep cry, as if in response to something.
The night breeze stopped.
The campfire suddenly leaped higher, illuminating Raj's scarred face.
His eyes were very bright.
......
Crimson Moon City, the headquarters of the Dark Raven Group.
It was already very late at night.
The entire Crimson Moon City fell silent, and even the occasional sounds of battle coming from the distant monster map gradually faded away.
Moonlight filtered through the gaps in the clouds, turning the rooftops of the Dark Raven Group's base a ghastly white.
Sato sat in the room.
This is a very simple Japanese-style room. The floor is covered with dark gray tatami mats, and a calligraphy scroll hangs on the wall with the character "斩" (cut).
The strokes are sharp and forceful, as if they were cleaved with a knife.
The room was sparsely furnished, containing only a low table, a knife rack, and a cushion.
He sat cross-legged on the cushion, with two knives placed horizontally in front of his knees.
The long sword is called "Shadow Cutter," and the short sword is called "Moon Concealment."
The scabbards were black, without any decoration, as plain as two pieces of charcoal.
But anyone familiar with these two knives knows that they are more deadly than any ornately decorated weapon.
He had been sitting like that for a long time.
So long that the moon outside the window moved from the east to the west, so long that the tea on the table went completely cold, so long that the two knives on his knees were warmed by his body heat.
He was lost in thought.
Chishima Rin stood outside the door, holding a bowl of tea that had gone cold.
She hesitated for a long time, so long that the surface of the water in the teacup no longer rippled, so long that her fingers were numb from the coldness of the bowl.
She's known Sato for quite some time now.
She followed him from the very beginning, starting in the beginner village.
She had seen him calmly assign tactics when surrounded by thirty people, seen him face an SS-level boss without blinking, and seen him with a cold smile on his lips when someone held a knife to his neck.
Kenichi Sato is an extremely calm person.
Calm to the point of being cold-blooded.
Chishima Rin was so calm that she sometimes felt he had no emotions at all—his knife had no feelings, his eyes had no feelings, and he was even calmer when he killed than when he walked.
But today, there was something in his eyes that Chishima Rin had never seen before.
That wasn't anger—Sato didn't get angry; anger would dull his sword.
That's not resentment—Sato wouldn't be resentful; resentment is just an excuse for the weak.
It was something... she couldn't find the right words to describe it.
It's like a lost person suddenly seeing a distant light in the dark, unsure what it is, but knowing which direction to go.
Finally, she knocked on the door, very lightly, as if testing whether Sato was still awake.
"Come in."
The voice was calm, just like always.
Chishima Rin pushed open the door and saw Sato sitting by the window.
Moonlight streamed in through the window, dividing his profile into two halves of light and shadow.
The scar that ran diagonally from the brow bone to the corner of the mouth disappeared in the shadows and reappeared in the light, like a lurking snake.
The tea in front of him had gone cold, and he hadn't touched it.
She put the tea she was holding on the table and replaced the bowl of cold tea with it.