Chapter 429

Chapter 429

The young man did react slightly to what Alva was focused on, but it was extremely limited—just a brief glance at the enclosed crowd, catching sight of the lens squeezed into the corner. After a second or two, that was enough to satisfy his limited curiosity, and his eyes returned to Ye Mo ahead.

The photographer tensed up completely from that one look, nervously retreating through the crowd with his camera until he disappeared into the masses, resuming filming with even more caution.

But it was futile. That camouflage was way too crude for warriors who could track tiny insectoid movements across rubble and react in an instant.

Alva—and even the young man—could still easily spot the lens.

Alva couldn't help but begin rubbing the hilt of his sword, his gaze falling on Ye Mo ahead. Was he really going to override Ye Mo's authority over something like this?

"That guy's really sharp—the camera's well hidden now, and he still caught it, looked right over in an instant."

"Then immediately turned back. Youth is great—that head spins around like an owl's."

"Am I the only one wondering why they don't care if the hostages contact the outside world?"

Alva ultimately dropped the idea. No benefit, no point. He irritably pressed his hat down, lowered his head, and buried the lower half of his face in his collar, then moved to the outside, hiding behind the young man and a few other members, making sure he wasn't filmed before hurrying to catch up with Ye Mo.

A few members clustered around Ye Mo, who held Theodore.

The leader who'd just herded Alan and the others into the crowd waved from afar. "What are you all doing? Go do your jobs, stop hovering around Grath."

Alan and the others got pushed deeper into the crowd. Someone spotted their uniforms and passed them water and some food, while others asked anxiously, "We'll be fine, right?"

Alan took the food and passed some to Sadel. His gaze landed on Ye Mo through the crowd. "All I can promise is I'll do my best, sir."

Sadel stayed silent, refusing the food. Alan roughly shoved a piece of bread into his chest and muttered, "Eat."

The crowd rustled a bit. Someone nearby chimed in helpfully, "You're soldiers—there are some military academy cadets over there. They might be able to help."

Alan watched the leader stride back toward Ye Mo, staring hard in that direction. "Got it."

...

As the leader approached, the members who had been clinging to Ye Mo scattered. The youngest one lingered reluctantly around Ye Mo—he hadn't gotten a good look at the little Grans yet. It'd been ages since they'd had a little Grans around; this was his first time seeing one. But his companion soon dragged him away by the collar.

Ye Mo was left alone again.

Alva clicked his tongue, sped up, and instinctively moved to block Ye Mo from view.

Ye Mo tilted his head, a little confused. "Alva?"

Alva seemed annoyed, but when he spoke to Ye Mo, he pressed his lips together, steadied himself, and said, "It's nothing."

Only after he stopped did it hit him—Ye Mo didn't need protection, nor did he need to hide from the world. He was a little Grans, protected by the Graths. Nowhere was safer than this. Besides, if this little Grans wanted to go home, standing where more people could see him wasn't a bad move.

And this little Grans wasn't little anymore—he was already old enough to go to war. He didn't need to be coddled like a cub. Anyway, none of this should be the concern of someone like him—an "outsider."

But even so, Alva didn't move.

He clicked his tongue and told himself: this growing little lion, compared to Ambrose and the others, was way too soft and naive. Tease him a little, and he'd roll over, showing his soft belly and exposing his weak spots.

If Ambrose had raised this little Grans, he wouldn't be this soft. Sure, Ambrose had his blind spots, but Alva could fill them in. Everything he'd learned in his classes could be passed on to Ye Mo.

Alva mentally picked apart Ye Mo's past education and silently mapped out a whole curriculum for him. He'd temporarily forgotten the camera. The emotions churning in his chest since he'd set foot here were set aside, giving him a moment of relief.

"Is that short guy their leader? So many people came in just now, couldn't get a clear look. He's way too short and skinny—that's a solid wall of cover."

"Short one? Obviously a kid. And he's holding a cat—the cat's well-fed, but this is ridiculous. A kid bossing around adults."

"I've been meaning to say—that guy blocking the front looks kinda familiar. I've definitely seen that profile somewhere."

"Good-looking guys always look alike. Anyway, let's not worry about that—can we all focus on the insectoids?"

"Honestly, worrying won't help. It's up to the military on the front lines. Damn, I hate these starbandits even more. The front lines are stretched thin, and they're looting in the chaos!"

Ye Mo stared at Alva. After a few seconds, he reached out and pulled Alva to the inside, putting himself in front of Alva instead.

Alva was jolted out of his thoughts by Ye Mo's action. He yanked his hand back from Ye Mo's grip and tucked it behind his back.

He was like a cat strolling down the road, lost in thought, suddenly petted—fur bristling a beat late, eyes going wide.

Since arriving at the Rift, he hadn't had physical contact with anything besides insectoids in a long time. Actually, even before coming here, he rarely touched anyone. Growing up in a house where etiquette and posture were drilled into everyone, even his parents rarely touched him.

But maybe because of that, the nerves in his skin felt sharper.

Alva awkwardly flexed his hand, the feeling of the touch still there—warm and very soft. Was that what a person's touch felt like? He'd forgotten long ago.

Ye Mo looked at him, a little confused. "I thought you didn't like it over there."

He figured Alva was a bit shy. There were too many people over there, all staring this way. Here, there were too few people, too open, no place to hide. In the past, Ye Mo might've been a little scared too, but now he handled it easily.

Ye Mo was good at this. He'd learned a lot from Mrs. Ye, Ye Yun, and Ye He—this was how they treated him, shielding him behind them, blocking out everything that made him uneasy. Later, it was his father who stood before him.

Theodore, coiled around Ye Mo's neck, chimed in, "I don't think he likes it either."

Theodore quietly watched Alva, linking to the Starnet database and pulling up a bunch of files on Alva—info Alva himself probably didn't even know in that much detail.

As Theodore merged the new data into Alva's file, he thought: this is an abandoned purebred cat.

Though given Alva's later actions, comparing him to a cat might not be quite right. Records from this period were sparse, but in later generations, even with the glory of a pioneer who walked out of the old lands, Alva still carried an ugly nickname—the Butcher.

Theodore silently analyzed, then added another note to his file: shows a docile side when near a Grans.

Ye Mo knew nothing of this. He'd doubted himself at first, but hearing Theodore's words, he felt more sure. "It's fine. If you don't like it, you can hide. I don't like or dislike it, so I'm here, and you're here."

Alva's eyes widened a little. After a few seconds, he looked away first. "It's pointless. You're just wasting your time."

Ye Mo looked confused. "Wouldn't you feel more comfortable?"

Alva crossed his arms, looking even further away. "Not worth your effort."

This was a little Grans. His time and energy should go to more important things, not this—this completely pointless stuff.

Drawing on his experience with Ye Yun, Ye Mo smoothly turned the answer into something nicer. "I think it's worth it."

Alva hummed in agreement after a moment.

The startled cat's fur slowly settled. He hummed, quietly staying where Ye Mo had put him, staring off in some random direction, occasionally glancing down at Ye Mo.

Kind of strange—being indulged by a little Grans.

Ye Mo was a bit shorter than him, couldn't really block him, but Alva inexplicably settled down. He lifted his head, which had been lowered, and straightened his hat, which had been pressed down. He wasn't the one who needed to hide—he'd walk in the sunlight.

He glanced at Ye Mo again. The little Grans stood straight, gaze steady, hand on his sword, looking just like usual. But Alva knew the Graths well—the little Grans's mental energy was surely coiled around his fingertips right now, ready to snap into combat mode in an instant. It was reassuring, even on the battlefield.

Alva looked away, facing forward. He took back what he'd said earlier. The little Grans had been raised well, had grown into someone truly reliable—like the sun, warm, yet with the power to burn everything in its path.

……

Alan and Sadel were crowded to the back of the group, where several teachers and students were gathered. The military academy staff and students were all dressed in combat suits and equipment.

Alan and the others were somewhat surprised to find that there were even a few crates of ammunition here.

Noticing his gaze, an instructor tossed them guns while explaining, "There's a supply depot over there, and they didn't confiscate weapons or anything else. Where did you come from? How's the situation?"

Alan caught the gun and said lightly, "The arrogance of the strong—gotta love it. A weakling like me is lucky to be ignored."

Someone nearby frowned. "Or maybe it's because there aren't many of them, so they don't dare make a move. There's a lot of us—we've got a shot at fighting."

Alan chuckled softly. "See that kid over there? You know where he grew up? You couldn't dream up a hell like that if you tried. Trust me, he could rip you apart with his bare hands. His lullabies were bug screams, and he probably had a knife in his hand before he could even walk. How the hell would you fight that?"

"That's ridiculous. He's probably still dealing with the mess of the transition phase right now. Even if his mental power is S-rank, I'm ready to risk my life. Sir, maybe you're just too scared."

Sadel sat down right there and started swapping out his gear, ignoring them, only answering the instructor: "We landed at random in the city. It's bad out there—bugs everywhere."

A young guy next to the instructor asked, "Who are those people?"

Sadel paused in his movements but didn't answer. Alan, standing beside him, habitually picked up the conversation: "Natives of the planet up ahead. Strong, right? Like monsters. They're the only reason we made it out alive. If you ask me, paying them protection money beats getting our heads chewed off by bugs."

The young guy froze for a second, grunted, and didn't say anything, but he clearly didn't agree with Alan. Just a minute ago, they'd been arguing about whether they could take those bugs on without those people.

Alan didn't mind. He looked through the crowd again, catching a glimpse of the kid who'd saved them—such a skinny frame, yet able to unleash power that tore bugs apart like nothing. His gaze then drifted to Alva, standing there with his back straight, still oddly familiar.

As he watched, he suddenly stood up, and others noticed. One by one, a few instructors got to their feet.

Off to the west, in the distance, a swarm of bugs was closing in.

Sadel moved to the front first, with Alan and a few instructors right behind him. The armed students followed, forming a makeshift line to shield the crowd.

The crowd instinctively pressed up against the wall, huddling close together.

In stark contrast, almost nobody on Ye Mo's side moved—they just stayed put. With this many people gathered here, attracting the bugs was almost a given—they'd seen it coming.

A swarm of dozens of bugs closed in, three of them way bigger than the rest.

Ye Mo stared at them. They must've been eating their own kind since birth—otherwise, they wouldn't have grown that much faster than the others. They had to go first.

When they got close to the square where they were, Ye Mo drew his sword, lowered his body, and charged forward. Alva and the others rushed in from different directions as well.

Ye Mo went straight for the largest one, with Alva nearby, ready to back him up at any moment.

His mental power wrapped around the blade, and the sword sank into its body almost without resistance. Using the momentum, Ye Mo twisted his waist, adjusted his posture mid-air, spun around, and easily severed its head. Their vital points weren't hidden in strange places like the King Insect's—dealing with them was simple.

The largest bug in the swarm crashed to the ground.

Alan turned back to the one he'd been arguing with and said, "See that? He tears bugs apart, and we get torn apart by them. That's the difference. I'll admit I'm a coward, but you guys don't exactly look brave either."

His tone carried little provocation—it could even be called calm.