Chapter 955

The Cavalry members were undoubtedly exhausted. But even so, their faith had not wavered.

Frankly, it was astonishing. This drawn-out battle was due to Yuder’s decision, and not a single rift had disappeared yet. It would have been perfectly natural for someone to question his approach—or even feel resentment or frustration.

And if they had, Yuder wouldn’t have held it against them... but the absence of any such reaction was, in its own way, even more disconcerting.

They °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° had trained together long enough to know that Yuder missing a few meals wouldn’t affect him. Still, they had taken the risk to bring him even a single potato and a small piece of bread.

The look in their eyes carried a clear and powerful message.

Because Yuder hadn’t given up, they wouldn’t either.

By sharing their food with him, they were affirming—not just kindness—but unity. That they were one Cavalry. That he belonged here, with them.

To them, tending to their weary minds and avoiding a defeat they had never faced before was perhaps less important than that simple act of solidarity.

Yuder slowly bit into the bread, surrounded by those watchful eyes.

At a time when he should be hyper-focused on monitoring the rift and monsters, this action was utterly irrational. And yet, even as the tremors below began to intensify, he kept chewing and swallowing.

The potato, when he took a bite, was still slightly warm. To a body that had adapted to the cold, dark depths of the sea, that warmth felt sharp and vibrant—like summer sunlight.

Oddly, he felt he might remember this moment for a long time.

Once he finished the last bite, the members—faces still weary—broke into smiles. That alone made his earlier worries about their mental fatigue seem almost meaningless.

“You ate it! I knew you would.”

“Tasty, right? Wish we could’ve brought more.”

Even after all his time in the Cavalry, Yuder felt as though this were the first time he’d experienced a feeling quite like this.

How was it that such an inefficient act could be... genuinely helpful?

As he pondered, a memory surfaced from the distant past.

“When do you think you must place your greatest trust in your forces? At the start of the game? When you go all-in to win? When capturing the enemy’s royal piece?”

“...No. It’s when you’re at a disadvantage. When you feel like you’re failing. When it’s hardest to go on.”

“Faith is inherently inefficient. At times, it may seem like blind foolishness—detached from reality. But I don’t think that’s true. Do you know why?”

He couldn’t quite recall what he’d answered back then. He was probably annoyed, maybe even losing at the time.

In the haze of memory, a man in white gloves sat before a tactical game board, lips curled into a subtle smile.

“I hope one day you come to understand the true value of such an ‘inefficient’ strategy.”

Click.

The sound of stone pieces striking the board echoed in his ears.

A hole inside Yuder—the one he hadn’t realized was there—felt like it had been filled.

And in the same instant, the trembling beneath his feet intensified into a roar.

—Rumble...!

“Positions! Get ready!”

Steber swung his arm in a signaling motion, and the members scattered, expressions grim. Yuder glanced only once at their sluggish movements—far clumsier than before—but no longer worried. Not because it didn’t matter, but because he had changed his way of thinking.

“Yuder! I’ll draw its attention!”

Steber signaled the start of the assault and activated his power. His ability was especially provocative to these monsters—more than anyone else’s. And once again, it worked. A powerful shift in the water signaled something approaching.

“It’s coming!”

After eight battles, they had a feel for how the monsters moved. Though tired and slow, the members now responded instinctively—applying their powers without needing instructions.

The tentacle surged up from below. Massive but translucent, it used the sea’s darkness as camouflage. Vision alone wasn’t enough—they had to rely on other senses and their ability to read water currents.

That long pause between the eighth and ninth waves hadn’t just affected the humans. The enemy had time to adapt too. Something might have changed. Everyone tensed, focusing hard, sending slicing waves of water at the oncoming threat.

Yuder moved among them, unleashing the most blades while using his insight to analyze the monster. Observing while fighting in the chaotic dark was no easy task—but determination made the impossible seem just barely possible.

He observed the time gap between the eighth and ninth waves—and the subtle changes in the new tentacle. His golden eyes gleamed as he burned every detail into memory.

Monsters didn’t act with reason. They emerged, tearing into the world, and immediately treated all life as enemies. Some remained dormant—but only in places where life was hard to detect, like deep underground or far beneath the sea.

Yuder recalled the dreamlike vision he’d had: countless beings writhing, trying to escape through a small crack.

He tracked everything—the tactics they’d used, how the monsters reacted, the nuances of each tentacle’s behavior from the first wave to now. It was all in his head.

—Screech!

“It’s smaller than before.”

This one looked more gelatinous than the last. More like a loose coil than a solid tentacle.

—Whoosh!

“But it’s faster.”

Steber’s water blade sliced it—and it thrashed violently in response, as if glowing with rage. Severed parts were swept into the current and flung at nearby members.

Normally, they would have avoided it. But this time, they didn’t move in time. They were hit head-on.

Blood spread in the water. Cries that couldn’t become sound escaped as bubbles.

Yuder flung his hand toward them—summoning a current that slammed into the monster’s wave. It wasn’t strong enough to overcome the full force, but it bought time. Time for them to tear off the monsters clinging to their bodies and swim free.

As if retaliating, the tentacle struck at Yuder—he barely twisted his body away in time. From his inverted view, the shadow of the enemy came into focus.

“...Yes. It’s definitely thinner.”

The others might not have noticed, but Yuder remembered clearly the original bulk of the creature. Based on what they’d severed so far, not even half of it was gone.

Not a single rift had disappeared yet. Still, Yuder didn’t think his tactics or predictions were wrong.

“It makes sense, if this thing had the power to cause the Southern Great Quake.”

The quake itself was a single, sudden event. But it had taken months to clean up the monsters that emerged afterward from the sea, the rivers, the flooded cities.

And the types that were especially hard to find—those that lived in water and hid easily—hadn’t vanished until nearly a year later.

A year.

If they were dealing now with a year’s worth of monsters all at once, then even their current efforts—after eight waves—might still be not enough.

“Of course, the situations aren’t identical. I can’t assume everything is the same.”

But for Yuder, it wasn’t about raw numbers. It was about balance.

If they were shaving away at one side of the scale, but the scale didn’t shift, it might not mean they weren’t making progress. It might mean both sides—enemy and their own strength—were shrinking equally.

Their power had diminished. Even if they’d killed many monsters, the rifts remained unchanged—because both sides were being depleted in sync.

Still... there was one more possibility worth considering.