My AI Wife: The Most Beautiful Chatbot in Another World

The night grew deeper. Loy had lost track of how long they had been sitting there. Time seemed to have frozen the moment Sany passed away. Perhaps hours had passed. Perhaps an entire night. There was no way to measure time in this place; only the alternating pressure of darkness and silence.

Riri clung to Loy’s hand, like someone terrified that if she let go, she would be lost forever. Loy squeezed back, though he could no longer feel his own hands. His skin was chafed raw, his wrists swollen from the ropes being tied too tight. But he was used to the pain. He didn’t even feel it anymore.

Outside, the sounds of the bandits persisted. They laughed, they drank, they lived as if nothing had happened.

Loy closed his eyes. In the darkness, he just wanted it all to end.

Suddenly, the sounds from outside changed.

It was no longer laughter. No longer singing. There was a loud, repetitive sound, like thunder striking parched earth. A sound Loy had never heard in his life. A sound that shattered the silence of the night like a blade tearing through silk.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Not once. Not twice. It was continuous. Rapid. Deafening.

Screams erupted from all directions. "Ambush!" "Someone’s inside!" "Who are they?!" "Run! Run!"

The bandits scattered. Loy heard the sound of bottles shattering, campfires being kicked over with sparks flying everywhere, and bodies hitting the ground one by one. There were screams of agony. Voices calling out names of friends. Some simply fell silent, followed by the dull thud of a collapsing frame.

Riri pressed closer to Loy, her body shaking violently. Her fingers dug into Loy’s arm like a drowning person’s grip.

"What is that?" Riri whispered. Her voice was broken, barely audible amidst the chaos outside.

Loy didn’t answer. He tried to peer through the cracks in the wall, through a small gap between the uneven wooden planks. But he could see nothing. Only shadows running to and fro, the glow of fires in the distance, and occasional flashes of strange light he didn’t recognize.

"Maybe..." Loy swallowed hard. His throat felt dry and raw. "Maybe the Kingdom. They’ve come to clear out the vermin."

Riri didn’t respond. Her grip tightened until her fingernails pierced Loy’s chafed skin.

In the dark, they could only wait. Waiting to see if those who had come would kill them or let them live.

A few minutes before the attack.

Dayat cut the engine behind a thicket of trees, a short distance from the bandit camp. The black van was inconspicuous in the dead of night. From here, he could see the bonfire burning in the center of the camp and hear the echoes of drunken laughter and songs through the trees.

Inside the van, Dalgor lay unconscious on the back seat, which had been folded into a makeshift bed. His breathing was stable, but he had yet to wake. Dayat checked on him briefly, ensuring the blanket covered the old Dwarf, then stepped out cautiously.

Dola was already waiting outside. Her blue eyes glowed faintly in the dark, scanning the camp from afar.

"Seventy-five men," she said softly. "Some armed, most drunk. A few women inside the main headquarters."

"Women?" Dayat frowned.

"Associates of Boris. Not prisoners."

Dayat sighed. "So, no children?"

"None."

Dayat observed the camp from behind the foliage. A bonfire blazed in the center, bandits sitting in a circle drinking. A few stood guard at the perimeter, but their posture was lax, undisciplined. Some were already staggering. Others laughed loudly, oblivious to their surroundings.

"They’re all drunk," Dayat muttered. "This is the moment."

"Agreed."

Dayat closed his eyes. The green veins beneath his skin pulsed. In his hands, green particles began to coalesce, forming a metallic frame, a long barrel, and a high-capacity magazine. An HK416. An assault rifle. Good for mid-range. Good for taking down many targets at once.

Dola stood beside him, unarmed. She didn’t need a weapon. Her hands were enough.

"Left and right?" Dayat asked.

"You left. I’ll take right."

They split up. Dayat circled to the eastern side of the camp, while Dola headed west. Their movements were silent, like predators hunting their prey.

The battle began.

Dayat fired the first shot from the brush. A bandit relieving himself at the edge of the forest slumped over without a sound. Then a second, then a third. Three bodies fell before the others even realized what was happening.

On the other side, Dola didn’t bother hiding. She walked into the camp from the west with calm strides, her white cape fluttering behind her. A bandit sitting by the fire saw her. His eyes followed the shimmering silver hair, the slender frame, and the cold, beautiful face.

"You—who are—" the bandit stammered, half-conscious.

Dola raised her hand. Blue light flickered at the tips of her fingers. The bandit lurched, his body freezing before he slammed into the ground.

Another bandit nearby screamed. "Ambush! We’re under attack!"

Chaos erupted.

Dayat unleashed a volley of shots from a distance. Bang. Bang. Bang. Four bandits running toward him collapsed. A more sober bandit tried to take cover behind a wooden cart, pulling an ancient rifle from his back. It wasn’t an ordinary weapon—it was a long-barreled rifle with ornate metal engravings, a relic of the Brassvale Kingdom. He aimed at Dayat.

Dayat saw him. He rolled to the side as the bullet whizzed past his shoulder. Before the bandit could reload, Dayat had already aimed back.

Bang.

The bandit fell, the rifle slipping from his hand.

On the other side, Dola walked through the center of the camp like an angel of death. A bandit with a broadsword charged her from behind. Dola didn’t even turn. She simply flicked her hand, and the bandit was hurled toward the nearest tree, his body hitting the trunk with a sickening crack.

Another tried to spear her from a distance. The spear flew through the air, but slowed down mid-flight, spun, and fell to the ground before it could reach its mark.

"What—what is happening?!" a bandit screamed.

"A demon! She’s a demon!"

Dayat continued firing from the east. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bandits trying to flee into the forest were picked off one by one. Some tried to fight back with swords, charging forward, but were cut down before they could cover half the distance. One tried to hide behind a tree, but Dayat’s bullets pierced through the thin wood.

No one escaped. They either died or hid behind the corpses of their comrades, paralyzed by fear.

Then, Boris appeared.

From the main headquarters—a wooden cabin larger than the rest—a massive man stepped out with heavy footsteps. His face was a map of scars, his eyes bloodshot with alcohol and rage. In his hand was a rusted but razor-sharp broadsword. Behind him, two half-naked women peered out in terror from the doorway.

"Who dares disturb my territory?!" he roared.

He saw the corpses scattered everywhere. Dozens of his men were dead or dying. Only a dozen remained, and they were too terrified to move. Some still held weapons, but their hands were shaking.

Then he saw Dayat. The man in the black jacket.

"You... Who are you?" Boris whispered.

Dayat didn’t answer. He approached, his steps calm and unhurried. His weapon was still in hand, pointed toward the ground but ready to be raised at a moment’s notice.

"Where are the children?" Dayat asked.

Boris blinked. "What?"

"The children you’re holding. There were four. I’ve come to take them."

Boris laughed. His laughter was loud, deafening, echoing through thne trees. "You come to my camp, kill my men, and now you ask for those brats? Who do you think you are?!"

"I’m not asking." Dayat raised the HK416, aiming at Boris’s head. "I’m taking them."

Boris growled. He raised his broadsword and charged at Dayat. His massive frame ran like a bull, dust billowing behind him, his footsteps shaking the ground.

Dayat didn’t flinch. He just waited.

When Boris was close enough—only a few steps away—Dayat pulled the trigger.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Three shots. Boris fell to his knees. His chest was riddled with holes, blood pouring out and soaking the earth. He stared at Dayat with wide eyes—still unable to believe he could be defeated so easily.

"You... don’t know... who I am..."

"I don’t care."

A fourth shot. Boris slumped to the ground. He didn’t move again.

The remaining bandits saw their leader fall. Some dropped their weapons; others fled into the forest. Dayat didn’t give chase. Let them run. The important thing was the safety of the children.

Back at the hut.

The sound of gunfire didn’t stop. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. It wasn’t just once or twice. It was constant, like a rain that refused to subside. Loy heard the screams of bandits, the sound of bodies hitting the ground, and the directionless pounding of fleeing footsteps.

But eventually, the noise began to fade. One by one. Slowly. Until it stopped completely.

Silence.

There were no more screams. No more bandit voices. No more running footsteps. Only the night wind whistling softly through the trees and the occasional faint howl of a wolf in the distance.

Loy opened his eyes. He looked at Riri. Riri looked back. Their eyes met in the dark, both filled with fear and confusion.

"Is it over?" Riri whispered. Her voice was still trembling.

"I don’t know."

They waited.

One minute passed. Two minutes. Five minutes.

No footsteps approached. No door opened. There was no sound at all except for the wind and the frantic thumping of their own hearts.

Had the attackers left? Had they forgotten about this hut? Did they think no one was here?

Loy didn’t know. But he didn’t dare to hope. Hope had failed him too many times.

Outside the hut, footsteps began to echo.

Loy felt his heart pounding so hard he could hear it in his own ears. Riri gripped his hand tightly.

The footsteps stopped right in front of the door.

Silence.

They waited.

Then, the door was pushed.

Slowly. Not like the bandits who entered with a kick or a violent shove. It was pushed with patience, with care, like someone who didn’t want to break anything.

The wooden door opened with a long creak, screaming in the silent night. Loy squinted. Light from outside flooded into the darkness that had been their only companion for days. Loy could barely see. His eyes stung, unaccustomed to the light after so long in the dark.

All he could see were two dark silhouettes at the threshold.

Two shadows.

One tall, one shorter. One with broad shoulders and a steady posture, one with long hair. Loy couldn’t see their faces. Their features were still shrouded in shadow.

But he could feel something he had never felt before.

The shadows stepped inside.

The first step. A black combat boot stepped onto the damp floor of the hut. The second step. A white fabric fluttered softly behind.

A small light flickered to life in one of their hands. A bright white light, unlike the dim and flickering oil lamps. Unlike a hot and dangerous fire. The light was cool, steady, and brilliant. Loy had never seen such a light in his life. Like a crystal, but brighter. Like a star, but closer.

The light illuminated the room slowly.

Loy saw their faces. A man in a black jacket, a stern face, sharp eyes, and slightly messy black hair. There was a wound on his shoulder, still wrapped in cloth. A woman with long silver hair that almost reached her waist, blue eyes that glowed faintly like lamps in the dark, and a beautiful but cold, expressionless face.

The man looked around. His eyes moved slowly, observing every corner of the hut. Past the rotting wooden walls. Past the damp dirt floor. Past the scattered straw in the corner.

Then his eyes stopped on Sany’s motionless body.

Silence.

The man’s expression didn’t change. But Loy could see his jaw tighten. He could see the muscles in his cheek twitch. He could see his eyes narrow, as if he were holding something back.

His eyes then turned to Loy and Riri. To the wounds on their bodies. To their bound hands. To the fresh whip marks on Loy’s arms. To Riri’s parched, cracked lips.

The man knelt down.

"Who are you?" Loy whispered. His voice was raspy, broken, almost nonexistent. Like the voice of someone who hadn’t spoken in days.

The man looked at him. His eyes met Loy’s. No judgment. No pity. Just... seeing.

"Dayat. This is Dola." His voice was soft but firm. "We are here to get you. Kancil is waiting for you."

Loy couldn’t say a word.

The tears that had been dried up since Tomas died, that had been empty since Sany passed, that had vanished after days of staring into the void—suddenly surged forth. Not a flood. Not a hysterical sob. They dripped one by one, slowly, like water seeping from a stone.

He didn’t cry out loud. He just wept silently, his shoulders trembling, his breath hitching.

"Kancil... still... helped..." he whispered through the sobs. "Even... late... he still did..."

Beside him, Riri could only hold Loy’s hand. Riri didn’t cry. Perhaps her tears were truly gone.

Dayat pulled a small knife from his pocket. It wasn’t an ordinary knife—it was made of shimmering green light, like magic, like a dream. He cut the ropes on Loy and Riri’s hands. Slowly. Carefully. One by one. Not wanting to hurt them more than they already had been.

The first rope snapped. Loy’s right hand was free. The second. His left. Loy felt his hands free for the first time in days. He couldn’t move them well—his muscles were stiff, his wrists swollen. But he was free.

"Let’s get them out," Dayat said to Dola.

Dayat picked up Riri—the girl was smaller and lighter. Riri didn’t resist. She just looked down, leaning her head against Dayat’s shoulder, her eyes closed.

Dola picked up Loy. There was a strange warmth there, like a thin blanket on a cold night.

They walked out of the hut.

Loy looked back. He saw Sany’s body still lying in the corner. Motionless. He would never move again. Loy wanted to take him. He wanted to carry Sany one last time, even though his body was cold. But he couldn’t. His hands weren’t strong enough. And Sany was gone.

He closed his eyes.

I’m sorry, Sany. I’m sorry, Tomas. We can’t bring you home.

Outside, the sky was still dark.

It wasn’t yet dawn. The night was growing thick. But at the very least, for the first time in so long, Loy and Riri were not alone.

Dayat walked quickly toward the vehicle parked behind the trees. The black van wasn’t massive, but it was enough for them all. Loy could see another figure lying in the back seat—an old Dwarf, unmoving, perhaps sleeping, perhaps unconscious.

Dola followed behind, still carrying Loy.

Suddenly, Dola stopped.

Her blue eyes flared brightly, more intense than before. Her cold expression shifted slightly—not panic, but alertness.

"Dayat."

Dayat stopped. He turned. "What?"

"They’re coming. Hundreds of them. A joint force from the Brassvale Kingdom and the Gear-Breaker Church."

Dayat stepped to the side, looking southward. Loy couldn’t see anything from Dola’s back, but he could feel the tension in the air.

"How long?"

"Two hours. Maybe less."

Dayat sighed. "We’re out of time."

They walked faster. The black van was now clearly visible among the trees. Dayat opened the back door, and Dola placed Loy on the seat. Dayat placed Riri beside him. Loy felt the soft upholstery of the car—something he hadn’t felt since being taken captive.

"We’re leaving," Dayat said. "Now."

The engine roared to life. Loy heard a rumbling sound that was foreign to his ears. The van accelerated away from the bandit camp, leaving behind the scattered corpses on the ground, leaving behind the empty, dark hut.

Behind them, from the south, pinpoints of light began to appear. Hundreds. The pursuing force was moving.

But for now, they were far enough away.

Loy closed his eyes. He heard the gentle hum of the engine, the hiss of the wind outside the window, and the sound of Riri’s breathing beside him, which was finally beginning to steady.

We’re safe.

He didn’t know if this was a dream or reality. But for the first time in forever, he didn’t want to wake up.