Seven Sins System Chapter 682. Operation Shadow-Wreck
Seven Sins System Chapter 682. Operation Shadow-Wreck
“Guess it’s time,” Barry said, stretching before clicking his seatbelt into place.
I sat down properly, tugging the belt across my chest and locking it in. One by one, the others followed.
The rumble of the vehicle’s core engine spun to life beneath our feet, subtle at first, then building to a smooth, confident hum. It wasn’t the kind of thing you noticed unless you’d ridden it dozens of times. Which we had. But this time, it felt heavier. More serious. Like the vehicle already knew what kind of terrain we were about to roll into.
Ion leaned his head back with a dramatic sigh. “I’m already bored. Can we fast forward to the action scene?”
“You know how this works,” I muttered. “An hour of pretending to nap, then ten minutes of chaos.”
“Great,” he grinned. “I love the chaos part.”
“You would,” Claire said flatly.
Just before the engine’s low hum shifted.
Just before the rune lights glowed green.
Just before the voice echoed again.
“All squads, prepare for departure.”
The vehicle hissed softly. Magic and metal syncing in perfect rhythm.
And with a slow, steady lurch forward—we rolled out.
I leaned back into my seat as the academy grounds started to slide past the windows, giving way to open training fields, then dense mana-buffer walls, then the slow transition of civilization fading into the untamed borderlands.
The hum of the engine settled into a rhythm beneath our feet. Not too loud—just enough to remind us we were moving. Traveling into the wilds. Into a place most maps marked with caution glyphs and weather-sensitive wards.
It wasn’t silent inside, of course. Not with them.
“So,” Barry started, stretching his legs out dramatically into Ion’s space. “This is it, huh? Operation Shadow-Wreck?”
“Shadowrae Hollow, you memory-deficient broomstick,” Ion said, swatting Barry’s knee. “Try to at least remember the name of the place we might die in. It’s good manners.”
“It’s not dying if I die cool,” Barry replied with a grin. “Picture this—me, jumping off a collapsing ridge, mid-spin, impaling a Fangmaw straight through the skull while the students watch in awe and start cheering. Then Claire yells, ‘Look at that spear form! I was wrong to call him reckless!’ And then Doc here”—he pointed at me—“finally admits I’m his favorite student.”
I blinked slowly. “I’d rather admit I kissed a Windclaw.”
Evie snorted behind her hand. Claire didn’t even look up.
“You’re not supposed to bring the fanfiction into the mission,” I said flatly. “Keep that mess in your dreams, Barry.”
“Oh, I will,” he said, completely undeterred. “And it’ll be glorious.”
Ion stretched his arms behind his head. “If anyone’s going to be the hero today, it’ll be me. Dual daggers. High-speed flicker step. Maybe I’ll slide under a Timberfiend mid-roar and carve its belly like a holiday roast. You know, get the organs out before it even knows it's dead.”
“Wow,” Darren chimed in from the window seat, his voice smooth and dry as paper. “Didn’t know you were auditioning for a monster cooking show.”
Ion turned to him, grinning wider. “Better than standing fifty meters away and hoping your arrow doesn't get eaten by tree bark.”
Darren didn’t even blink. “My arrows don’t miss. The forest just has bad taste.”
I rubbed my temple slowly. “Please tell me none of you are this theatrical on real missions.”
Claire replied without looking up, “They are.”
“They really are,” Evie added helpfully.
The laughter that followed wasn’t loud, but it was real.
Despite everything—despite the fact that we were rolling toward a live field, toward unstable mana zones, warped monsters, and literal burrowing death traps—they were laughing.
I let my gaze wander past the armored glass. The trees outside had started to change—no longer the neat rows from the academy’s planted groves, but the twisted, overgrown tangle of wildwood. Vines pulsed faintly with stored mana, like slow lightning veins, while patches of silver moss glimmered faintly in the underbrush. The deeper we went, the more the forest shimmered with a kind of patient menace.
Magic here didn’t sleep. It waited.
But inside the vehicle?
Laughter. Idiocy.
A loud, living contrast.
“You know,” Darren said after a pause, “I don’t really care about being the ‘hero.’ I just want to pull off a clean shot. One of those perfect moments where you feel the bowstring hum, the wind cuts right, and the arrow sings.”
“I thought elves didn’t get poetic until their third semester,” Ion teased.
Darren shrugged. “I’m an early bloomer.”
Evie smiled. “I wouldn’t mind showing off a little either, to be honest. I’ve been working on a new channeling sequence for Windstrike. If it works, it could chain across three targets.”
“Showoff,” Claire murmured.
Evie shrugged, mock-innocent. “I’m just trying to live long enough to become a legend. Or a cautionary tale. Either works.”
“You’re all insane,” I muttered, looking around at the five of them.
Barry leaned forward. “Hey, Doc. Be honest. Who’s the most likely to survive if we all get separated and dropped into monster-infested woods with nothing but our clothes?”
“Claire,” I said instantly.
Claire didn’t react. She just continued checking her gear like being the clear winner was expected.
Barry pouted. “Okay, but besides Claire.”
“Evie,” I said.
Evie blinked and smiled.
Ion raised a hand. “Okay, but who’s most likely to die dramatically?”
“Barry,” everyone said in unison.
Barry looked genuinely betrayed. “What the hell—why me?!”
“Because,” Claire said calmly, finally looking up, “you’re the only one who thinks dramatic death is a viable strategy.”
“Hey,” Barry said, hand over his heart. “If I’m going out, I’m going out with fireworks and a good camera angle.”
“You don’t get camera angles in the Hollow,” I said. “You get eaten by something with too many teeth and not enough personality.”
“That’s just rude,” Barry muttered.
The conversation drifted after that. We talked about lunch, Evie hoped the supply team packed the lemon curry, favorite training exercises, Ion claimed stealth tests were rigged, and whether or not the academy showers had been cursed last semester.