Chapter 146. American Breathing?
It didn’t take long before I spotted them.
Vaylin’s squad.
A group of four, lined up like they owned the battlefield. Not exactly subtle, but hey—confidence has a way of dragging idiots into the spotlight.
They weren’t carrying any obvious weapons, which was the first red flag. Most players liked to flex—big swords, fancy staves, glowing hammers—something. These four? Dressed in sleek leather armor that looked more like it came from a fashion boutique than a battle sim.
Mage types? Probably.
I gently lowered Kaelira from my back. My shoulder wound had closed up nicely, and with each passing second, I could feel mana flowing through me again. Sharp. Clean. Ready.
Then I locked eyes with Vaylin.
Tall guy. Deep green hair, sapphire eyes, a jawline so chiseled it could slice butter—if butter was a war crime. From a purely male perspective, I had to admit: he was ridiculously attractive.
His teammates looked like clones from a ’bad boy rogue squad’ catalog. Lean builds, smug faces, leather armor strapped just tight enough to suggest menace but loose enough for style points. I could practically smell the ego from here.
Kaelira, meanwhile, was absolutely vibrating with restrained rage. Her whole body was coiled like a spring, but her expression stayed cold. Masked.
I made a mental note: She’s going to go feral. Probably should get the hell out of her way when that happens.