Emisarry Of Time And Space-Chapter 190: Forest tiers.

Orion just stared at them.

They could leave. Easily. Nothing bound them here.

But the other party could also as easily follow.

And that was the problem.

If they walked away now, there was no guarantee the other group wouldn’t trail them

later—quietly, patiently, waiting for the right moment to interfere. It wasn’t ideal. It wasn’t

clean. And Orion disliked problems that lingered.

His mind weighed the options rapidly.

Chasing them off outright would be simple. If it came down to it, fighting them here wouldn’t

even be difficult. He didn’t need to activate Eye of Truth and Façade to know the gap between

them. Experience or not, he was confident in his advantage.

Very confident.

Then another thought surfaced.

A darker one.

From the looks on their faces—especially the scowling woman—they weren’t the type to let

things go easily. Pride like that didn’t fade; it fermented. If they found a way to interrupt his

mission later, it would be irritating. Avoidable, yes—but irritating.

His fingers curled slowly into a fist.

He hated loose ends.

He hated dealing with problems twice.

The idea crossed his mind cleanly, without emotion:

I could end this now.

No witnesses that mattered. No engagement yet. No open hostility. Just decisive action.

Efficient. Permanent.

It was morally dark.

They hadn’t attacked. They hadn’t crossed that line.

But regret annoyed him more than guilt ever did.

Before the thought could settle fully, a hand pressed against the chest of the scowling woman.

"Relax, M."

The voice was calm. Controlled. Male.

The man stepped slightly forward, placing himself between Orion and the rest of his

group—not in challenge, but in mediation. His posture was careful, his movements deliberate.

Then he looked at Orion.

"We understand why you’re wary," he said evenly. "But we really don’t have bad intentions.

Our approach was part cooperation, part curiosity."

His voice didn’t shake.

But his fingers did.

Only slightly. Almost imperceptibly.

Orion noticed immediately.

That surprised him.

He hadn't done anything particularly scary except intimidate them with his presence, was that

truly enough.

And yet—

The man’s instincts were screaming.

Orion couldn’t feel it directly, but he understood it anyway. Some people had sharp survival

instincts. Ones that bypassed logic and reason and went straight to truth.

And that instinct was telling this man something very simple.

Conflict with this boy meant death.

Not injury.

Not loss.

Death.

The man had lived long enough to recognize that feeling—and smart enough to listen to it.

Pride was a luxury for people who didn’t recognize danger until it was too late.

He half-expected Orion to ask a question.

Curiosity about what?

That was the natural response. The polite one. The diplomatic one.

Orion didn’t.

He just looked at them, expression unreadable, eyes steady, as though silently asking a

different question altogether.

What are you still doing here?

The man chuckled softly, the sound dry.

"Fair enough," he said.

He gestured backward without turning his head. "We’re leaving."

There was no argument.

No hesitation.

The others followed him immediately, even the scowling woman, though her glare lingered a

second longer than necessary before she turned away. They moved cautiously at first, then

more quickly, putting distance between themselves and the Chronos group.

Orion watched them go.

He didn’t relax until they were fully out of range.

"Eh~," Jalen muttered, stretching slightly. "I thought for sure we’d get to fight."

"We don’t have time for that," Erevan replied calmly, his gaze still fixed in the direction the

group had disappeared into. "Not for something pointless."

Orion nodded once.

"Let’s go."

They moved immediately.

As one unit resumed motion, the rest of the Chronos teams followed in synchronicity, their

movement flowing through the Beacon network like a well-tuned mechanism. No lag. No

confusion.

The next few days passed without anything remarkable.

Monsters appeared intermittently—some aggressive, some territorial, some simply unlucky

enough to cross their path. None lasted long. The team handled them efficiently, adapting to

terrain and timing with increasing ease.

They rested in shifts. Maintained formation. Conserved energy.

No unnecessary risks.

No wasted effort.

By the seventh day—an entire week of constant movement—something finally changed.

It wasn’t obvious to an average person.

To Orion, it was immediate.

The forest felt different.

It was subtle, but unmistakable. Like stepping from dry ground into damp soil without seeing

the water. The trees were still trees, but they were taller. Thicker. Their trunks denser, their

roots more invasive. Vines clung more aggressively, snaring at legs and branches with irritating

persistence.

The grasses were greener.

Richer.

Annoyingly so.

But the most noticeable change was beneath their feet.

The ground itself.

The texture had shifted. The resistance underfoot was different. Softer in some places, firmer in

others. And threaded through it all was a change in mana density—thicker, heavier, more

saturated.

For most of the group, it registered as mild discomfort.

For Orion, it was impossible to ignore.

Temporal Locus flared.

The skill that normally struggled in environments devoid of life suddenly surged with feedback.

Information flowed in erratically at first, then stabilized into something coherent.

Something below.

Deep.

Alive.

Temporal Locus identified it as life—but not in the way he was used to. It wasn’t a creature

moving through space. It wasn’t surface-level. It was embedded. Rooted. Old.

Unique.

His focus tugged downward instinctively, drawn toward whatever lay beneath the soil.

Orion exhaled slowly.

’Not now.’

Whatever this was, it wasn’t something to analyze while moving. They were deep enough now

that mistakes would compound quickly.

He straightened.

"We keep moving," he said calmly through the Beacon.

No one argued.

They adjusted formation slightly to account for the denser terrain and continued forward,

deeper into the Jade Forest.

Orion was right.

Something had changed.

It wasn’t subtle anymore. Not like the gradual shift they’d felt when entering the previous tier

of the forest. This change announced itself through resistance—through friction. Through

effort.

The strength of the monsters had increased.

Not dramatically, not explosively, but noticeably. The kind of increase that didn’t overwhelm

you outright but demanded more attention, more coordination, more time. The type that

punished complacency.

The types of monsters had changed too. The creatures they encountered now were larger,

denser, more aggressive. Their movements were less erratic and more purposeful. They

weren’t just reacting to intrusion; they were defending territory.