Isekai'd Into The Wrong World-Chapter 83: Ch - Cold, Dark, Damp.

BOOM.

Another explosion.

Ryan didn’t flinch anymore. He was used to them.

But what he wasn’t used to was the direction it came from.

That explosion sounded close, maybe two streets over.

Smoke rose above the rooftops—black, thick, spreading fast.

Now it’s not just the arena. Nowhere in this city is safe.

"We need to move quicker," the guard said, pulling Ryan forward.

BOOM.

The guard’s jaw tightened. "Sounds like the attack is spreading across the city."

Why? Why have they committed such a crime? Why didn’t these bastards target soldiers? Why target innocent women and children?

Ryan’s hands clenched by his sides.

Navius.

He was speaking with that elf. The elf that threw those bombs.

Ryan began to incessantly chant the same few words Navius spoke to the elf only hours ago. ’Fire, Dead, All of them.’ ’Fire, Dead, All of them.’ Fire. Dead. All of them.

They turned another corner. The side street was narrow, mostly empty. A few people hurried past in the opposite direction, faces pale, eyes wide. No one stopped. No one spoke.

The guard stopped in front of a weathered door sandwiched between two shuttered shopfronts.

He knocked. Three times. Pause. Twice more.

A bit of the cracked paint fell off of the door.

Then a latch scraped open. A sliver of an eye appeared in the gap.

"How’s the weather?" a cautious voice said from inside.

"Cloudy," the guard replied. "But the light shines through."

"What colour are the clouds?"

"They are as black as the heart of an elf."

The door carefully creaked open.

A man stood there—older, grey beard, tired eyes. He didn’t give a greeting, just stepped aside.

"Come in. Quickly."

Ryan followed the man inside.

The house was dilapidated. Walls stained with damp. Floorboards creaked under their weight. A scent of mold hung in the air.

The grey-bearded man locked the door behind them. It had three bolts and a heavy bar across the frame.

"Downstairs," he said, nodding toward a door at the back of the corridor.

The guard led the way down the stairs and into darkness.

Ryan hesitated at the top. But after a second, followed.

The stairs were steep and wooden. Each step groaned under his boots. Ryan was worried the entire time that the stairs would collapse beneath him.

At the bottom he found a basement. Dimly lit by a single lantern hanging from a hook in the ceiling.

And there—sitting on a crate against the far wall—was Eleanor.

Relief hit Ryan like a slap.

Eleanor looked up.

Her expression turned from worry, to relief.

"You’re alive," she said, hopping off of her crate.

"So are you," Ryan replied.

They stared at each other for a moment.

Eleanor walked over to him. "Well. It would’ve been nicer if James or Jared survived, but... you’ll do."

Ryan let out a breath that might have been a laugh. "Yeah, that goes both ways."

"Are we supposed to hug or something?" Eleanor asked, deadpan. "I don’t know the protocol for ’we both survived a terrorist attack.’"

"I imagine it would start with a hug," Ryan said.

Eleanor stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Ryan.

Ryan hesitated, before he hugged her back.

For a few seconds neither of them moved.

Then Eleanor pulled back. "Okay, that’s enough of that."

"Feel better?" Ryan asked.

"Surprisingly, I do." She looked annoyed by the admission. "But that won’t be a habit."

Then, creaks of the staircase announced someone coming downstairs.

Both of them turned, just to see Daveth. The man with the scar that bisected his face. He glanced at the Heroes, and then to the man who’d protected Ryan.

"You’ve gotten slower, Jakob. We’ve been waiting for you for ages." Daveth said.

The guard—Jakob, sighed and sat on one of the crates.

For the next hour, or five—Ryan couldn’t tell—the heroes waited, in a cold, dark, damp basement.

The explosions went on for a while. Every time Ryan thought they were over, another massive explosion would occur.

The last explosion had happened over an hour ago, but they still stayed in the basement, hiding like cockroaches.

They were alone now, their bodyguards were upstairs, supposedly keeping the house safe.

"Eleanor... James. He was right about Navius and that elf."

"I know."

"We need to tell Principal Helena, we can’t let Navius—"

"We will," Eleanor said. "As soon as we get back to the academy. She needs to know."

"Hundreds of people died, Eleanor. And the whole time James knew who was going to do it. But I laughed at him."

Eleanor opened her mouth, but no words came out.

They sat in silence.

A few minutes later, there were footsteps on the stairs.

It was Jakob. "City’s quieting down. We will move you out now."

"Where?" Ryan asked.

"Back to the academy. It’s probably the safest place in the city right now."

They climbed the stairs and soon found themselves back out on the side street. 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

It was early evening now, which had barely enough light out for Ryan to notice the dark smoke that hung everywhere. Thick, and black. It didn’t drift much, just sat there, blocking out the rest of the sunlight.

Ryan could taste it with every breath.

Buildings that had stood whole hours ago were now rubble. An entire shopfront had collapsed inward—nothing but broken stone and splintered timber. Further down, the soldier’s outpost Ryan remembered passing on the way to the tavern with Gregory, was just... gone. A crater remained. Blackened stone. Twisted metal.

Soldiers wandered through the wreckage.

A woman sat on the cobblestones of another building, clutching a child’s shoe to her chest. She sat, rocking back and forth, back and forth.

Ryan looked away.

They walked in silence. Jakob led while Daveth took the rear. Ryan and Eleanor stayed between them, boots crunching over broken glass and scattered stone.

The further they walked, the quieter it got. Like the city itself was holding its breath.

A body lay in an alley. Covered with a blanket.

The damage lessened as they moved closer to the academy district. Fewer craters. Fewer collapsed buildings. Smoke thinned. Like the destruction had a radius that hadn’t quite reached this far.

Then they rounded the final corner.

The academy stood untouched.

The walls were pristine. No scorch marks. No cracks. Not a single stone was out of place. The gates stood open, guards posted on either side, watching the street with hard eyes.

Students crowded the courtyard beyond the gates—dozens of them, maybe hundreds. Some sitting on the ground. Some standing in clusters. Voices rose and fell in waves—crying, shouting, calling out names.

They stopped at the entrance of the gate.

"Good luck both of you. I hope you won’t see us anytime soon," Daveth said.

"Thank you." Eleanor murmured.

Inside, healers had set up stations near gates—students lined up, waiting to be seen.

Ryan scanned the faces. Looking for James. Jared. Jeremy.

"There," Eleanor said, pointing.

Jeremy stood near the fountain. His clothes were torn and face smudged with soot.