I Don't Need To Log Out-Chapter 314: The Quiet Before Everything

Arlon stood there with his hands in his pockets, looking up at the soft gradient of color in the sky. Pale blue shifting into gold.

And then, right on cue, the world shimmered.

A soft pulse in the air.

The kind of thing only someone like him would notice anymore.

The login.

Footsteps echoed lightly behind him. Familiar ones.

June had arrived.

She came down the inn's steps slowly, adjusting her coat as she walked, her hair slightly tousled from the transition.

Her eyes met his.

They didn't need to say anything for a second.

Arlon finally broke the silence. "Are you nervous?"

June gave a light snort, brushing some hair behind her ear.

"Of course I am," she said. "Aren't you?"

He nodded.

Simple. Honest.

Because, of course, he was.

As they stood there, side by side, Arlon's thoughts drifted back—unbidden—to Istarra.

To the ruins.

To the way the streets had crumbled under the feet of mindless Keldars. The smoke that never left the air. The emptiness.

In his last life, he hadn't saved it.

Because he hadn't been strong enough. Because he hadn't known this world was real.

Back then, he was still treating it all like a game.

A world where loss didn't linger. Where death could be reset.

But this life was different.

This time, he didn't have an excuse.

Yes, he had been in the Tower when Istarra fell, and yes, there had been nothing he could've done at that moment.

But even so—he'd made himself a promise.

Not to save everyone. That would've been a foolish vow. One doomed to fail.

No. He had promised himself one thing:

That he would protect what was around him.

Just that.

And even that... he hadn't kept.

Still, the world hadn't fallen apart like before.

Trion was in a much better state than in his previous life. He clung to that thought, trying to let it ease the weight pressing down on his chest.

Back then, the land had been reduced to scattered resistance and broken citadels.

Even Kelta had fallen.

The heart of Trion itself had shattered.

And Arlon still didn't know why.

Yes, Zephyrion was weaker than Asef. But Asef hadn't known that at first.

If he had, he would've struck much earlier.

That delay… that hesitation… it had bought them time.

But eventually, something must have tipped the balance.

At some point in his previous life, Asef had figured it out.

And then the world crumbled.

Still, Zephyrion wasn't the strongest in Trion.

And maybe neither was Arlon.

There were too many secrets hidden in the layers of this world.

Truths he hadn't uncovered. Names and faces he'd never seen.

But he had stopped trying to learn everything. Not because he wasn't curious—but because he understood that some truths didn't change anything.

It didn't matter why the others hadn't stopped Asef.

It didn't matter what the Eternal Council was doing, or what powers slept in the corners of the world.

Because in the end, the only thing that mattered now was one task.

His task.

Kill Asef.

That was his duty. His role in this world.

He would leave the rest to whoever came after—if there was a world left to inherit.

He looked at June.

She had been quiet, giving him space to think.

He appreciated that.

Without saying anything else, Arlon extended his hand.

June blinked, then smiled faintly.

And she took it.

Her grip was firm. Steady.

They didn't need a speech. Didn't need to reassure each other.

This was it.

Together, they would end it.

Arlon gave her one last look—his expression unreadable—and then they disappeared in a shimmer of light.

Gone.

To face the final fight.

---

At the far edge of Trion, where the land was barren and the sky hung lower than it should, a figure stood at the precipice of a cliff.

The wind howled around him, sweeping dust and sand in wide, spiraling gusts, but he didn't flinch. Didn't move.

His armor, dark as midnight and trimmed in muted crimson, clinked softly as his arms folded across his chest.

The helm covered most of his face, but his eyes—those unmistakable, blood-colored eyes—were visible beneath the visor.

They burned like embers in the wind, scanning the horizon with unwavering patience.

He was waiting.

Not in frustration. Not in anxiety.

He simply knew they would come.

A few paces behind him, the Beastman woman stood with her ears flicking slightly in the wind. Carla.

Her furred tail moved with an absent rhythm, but her eyes never left Asef.

She didn't ask him anything this time.

She didn't need to.

It was time.

No more distractions. No more delays. No more demons or disposable soldiers to draw attention.

If they defeated the one coming today, there would be nothing left standing in their way.

The thought should have pleased her.

But it didn't.

Yesterday had proven one thing clearly: Arlon was more than a threat. And Reeb, despite his arrogance, had been powerful—powerful enough that Asef had placed trust in him.

And now, Reeb was gone.

Carla remembered asking him, back before they split ways with the rest of the Keldars.

"Do you want me to prepare traps? Barriers? Even a collapse zone—something we can trigger mid-fight?"

It had been a simple question. A practical one.

And she had expected a 'yes.' After all, Asef hadn't minded playing dirty the day before. He'd struck from behind. Ambushed. Coordinated.

But today… his answer had been different.

"No need."

That was all he said.

Not because he'd changed. Not because he wanted a fair fight.

It was because he knew.

At this level, no trap would matter.

If Arlon couldn't be stopped in combat, no trickery would save them. And if he could… then traps weren't needed in the first place.

He had accepted that logic coldly.

The Demons were dead. Every single one.

That alone would have devastated any other faction.

But Asef didn't mourn them. They had done their part.

His only regret… was Reeb.

The loss of that soul fragment stung more than he admitted aloud.

But there was no one to blame.

He had given the order.

He had told Carla to let Reeb go. To let him enter the battlefield.

To fight.

And to die, if needed.

And now, that battle had brought them here.

A silent wind rushed through the valley. The sky above began to ripple slightly, the kind of subtle distortion only sensitive mana users could detect.

A teleportation.

Far away—still far—but approaching fast.

Both Asef and Carla turned their eyes toward the direction of the ripple.

A presence. Clean. Clear. Sharp.

It was unmistakable.

Asef took a step forward, the ground beneath his armored boot cracking with the force.

He didn't speak.

There was no need.

He turned, walking away from the edge of the cliff, and began heading down the winding path that led to the plains below.

To the place he had chosen.

Carla followed in silence, her fingers twitching near the thin sword at her side. Her breath was steady, but her steps were heavy with unspoken tension.

Their guest was coming.

And there would be no distractions this time.