The deployment of Oakhaven's elite vanguard was a logistical spectacle. Hundreds of heavily armored knights, high-tier spellcasters, and vanguard captains marched out of the city gates in perfect formation, flanked by massive, magically reinforced military carriages designed to cross treacherous terrain at high speeds.
Because of Shin'ya's "legendary performance" against the Grave-Weaver Titan, he wasn't forced to march on foot with the common infantry. Instead, he was assigned to Carriage One—the designated luxury transport reserved exclusively for high-ranking tactical assets and S-rank anomalies.
Inside the spacious, velvet-lined carriage, the atmosphere was suffocatingly tense. Four veteran A-rank captains sat across from Shin'ya, their faces grim, their knuckles white as they gripped their enchanted weapons. Nobody was talking. The looming threat of an S-rank hive with multiple Disaster-grade monsters had everyone mentally preparing their wills.
Except for Shin'ya.
Dressed in his sharp, model-tier midnight black Abyssal Silk shirt, tapered trousers, and combat boots, he looked effortlessly calm. (Yes, the Joonghyuk Yoo presence was working overtime.)
Sera sat rigidly beside him, her notebook tightly held in her lap, her eyes scanning the anxious faces of the veterans. She turned to Shin'ya, whispering under her breath, "Sir Arata... the magical pressure from the shifting gateway is already leaking across the valley. We will breach the perimeter in exactly forty-five minutes. What is our tactical approach?"
Shin'ya's deadpan face didn't twitch. Internally, his inner gamer was looking at the 45-minute travel time and calculating the ultimate optimization route.
Forty-five minutes of travel? his inner voice observed, a wave of pure, unadulterated joy washing over his mental self. That is a flawless forty-minute sleep window with a five-minute buffer zone to shake off the grogginess. If I go into battle without topping off my stamina bar, my reaction time will drop by 12%, and I might actually have to exert effort.
Without saying a word, Shin'ya reached into his shadow storage. A tiny ripple of black liquid slid across his lap, and he pulled out a pristine, high-density, matte-black memory-foam travel pillow—the absolute crowning achievement of his recent shopping spree. He casually clipped it around his neck. Then, he pulled out his silver magical alarm clock, set it for precisely forty minutes, and placed it on the small table in the center of the carriage.
The four A-rank veterans stared at him, completely bewildered.
"Sir Arata?" Sera blinked, confused. "What are you...?"
"I am entering a state of deep, high-density shadow-mana consolidation," Shin'ya lied smoothly, his low, unbothered voice dripping with absolute authority. "Do not disturb the flow of my ambient shadows. When the chime rings, the preparation will be complete."
With that, Shin'ya leaned his head back against the luxurious memory foam, closed his eyes, and instantly fell fast asleep.
The carriage fell into a dead, stunned silence.
The veterans stared at the resting fourteen-year-old boy, their eyes wide with profound, escalating awe.
"Incredible..." one scar-faced vanguard captain whispered, his voice trembling with genuine respect. "The sky outside is tearing open, a continental disaster is looming, and he can casually force his consciousness into a deep mana consolidation state without a single shred of fear? His mental fortitude... it's monstrous."
"Look at the shadows rippling faintly across his Abyssal Silk clothes," a battle-mage murmured in hushed adoration. "He isn't just sleeping. He is actively syncing his body with the ambient darkness to mask his presence from the S-rank monsters ahead. To think a teenager possesses tactical foresight on this level... Oakhaven might actually survive this."
Sera's eyes sparkled with overwhelming pride. She frantically began writing in her notebook: [Log: Before the grand clash, Lord Arata Aka Shin or Shin'ya by me initiated a forbidden high-density shadow-sync state, utterly mesmerizing the seasoned veterans with his fearless composure.]
Meanwhile, Shin'ya was dreaming about eating a giant bowl of premium glazed meat skewers in a world where school didn't exist.
TRRRRRINGGGGG!
Forty minutes on the dot. The sharp, magical chime of the alarm clock cut through the carriage.
Shin'ya's eyes snapped open. His stamina bar was glowing a flawless, radiant 100%. He casually unclipped his memory-foam pillow, returned it to his shadow storage alongside the clock, and stretched his arms. He felt fantastic.
Boom!
The luxury carriage suddenly slammed to a violent halt, the magical shock absorbers groaning under the pressure. Outside, the terrified shouts of the vanguard infantry and the deafening, unnatural roar of a torn sky echoed through the reinforced walls.
"We've arrived!" the driver screamed from the front box. "The breach zone is right ahead!"
The four veterans stood up instantly, drawing their glowing swords and staves, their faces hardened for war. They turned to Shin'ya, nodding with deep, solemn respect. "We will clear a path for you, young Lord. Lead us well!"
Shin'ya deadpan-nodded back, adjusting his collar as he stepped toward the carriage doors.
Alright, his inner mastermind voice sighed, a dangerous, thrilling gamer smirk faintly brushing his lips as the doors flew open. Let's go see what an S-rank apocalypse looks like.