'I Reincarnated But Have No System? You Must Be Kidding Me!'-Chapter 36: Where Leaves Fall, Shadows Stir

"Try to keep up," Jeis called over her shoulder, her voice clipped with urgency. In a flash, she activated her movement skill, and her figure blurred—an afterimage trailing behind her like wind-blown leaves—as she rushed toward the direction she believed Auren and Jaira had gone.

"I can’t slow down just to wait for you two. I’m worried I might not make it in time for my daughter!" she added, her tone a sharp mix of panic and purpose, just before vanishing from Robert and Marissa’s view entirely.

"Damn it," Robert cursed under his breath, gritting his teeth as he pumped his legs faster. Though he was a trained soldier and an experienced herbalist, even his stamina had limits. His body could carry him far, and fast—but with Marissa beside him, his pace was suffering. He kept glancing sideways, worried for both her and the boy they were running to save.

"You go ahead," Marissa suddenly said, stopping mid-stride. Her voice was calm, but her eyes trembled with the weight of a terrifying realization. She had read the concern on Robert’s face.

"I’ll go back to our house and grab the potions we’ve hidden away—the ones strong enough to help Auren if he’s badly wounded. You’ll need them." Her voice cracked slightly, but she didn’t let it slow her down.

Robert paused, torn between the two people he loved. He turned toward her, eyes softening. "Alright. I’ll go straight to our house the moment I find Auren. Until then..." He took her hand for a heartbeat, leaned in, and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. "Please be careful, my dear."

Marissa gave a shaky nod, then forced a small smile. "You too," she replied, turning swiftly in the opposite direction.

"Please save Auren."

"I will," Robert vowed, his voice firm as steel. Then he turned back toward the forest, feet pounding the earth beneath him.

Their figures split without hesitation—two different paths in the Runewood, both heavy with fate.

Robert charged down the sun-dappled trail that wound through the green forest. Shafts of light pierced the canopy, flickering like fireflies against the leaves. The ground was uneven and damp with recent dew, but Robert barely noticed. His instincts drove him forward, each stride carrying the full weight of a father’s hope and a soldier’s discipline.

Marissa, meanwhile, veered into the darker trails—where the shadows of towering trees swallowed the sun entirely. The silence there was thick, pressing down like a warning. Her path was cold and uncertain, but she did not stop. Not even once.

Neither of them knew it yet, but this moment... is going to be the last time Robert and Marissa would ever see each other.

After minutes of high-speed pursuit through the dense western jungle of Runewood, Jeis finally reached a clearing—and froze. She was covered in sweat while her eyes glowed in observation skill. And as if her mother’s instinct guided her, it did not take long before she saw what she was looking for.

There, lying motionless on a bed of soft grass and scattered leaves, was her daughter.

"Jaira!"

Jeis landed beside her with a heavy thud, knees skidding slightly across the dirt. Her breath caught in her throat as she bent down to inspect her child. Her hands trembled slightly as she ran them gently over Jaira’s limbs, checking for wounds. Bruises, yes—some swelling, a few scrapes—but no broken bones. No deep gashes. No lethal injuries.

She pressed her fingers to Jaira’s neck, feeling for that vital rhythm beneath the skin.

There it was.

A steady pulse. Strong. Alive.

A sharp exhale escaped her lips—relief cascading through her like cool water rushing down sunburnt skin. "Thank the spirits..."

But just as her shoulders began to lower, her eyes caught a glint in the grass—and froze.

There, half-buried in the moss and dirt, was a broken glass bottle. Its contents had spilled out into the earth, staining the soil with crimson streaks and specks of glittering green and purple. She didn’t need to touch it to know what it was.

Auren’s potion. One of his ridiculous but oddly effective creations.

"The Red Bull," he’d called it, as if naming it after some beast from his strange human world made it stronger.

She recognized the blend of scents immediately—spicy mana herbs, sour berry extract, and something oddly metallic that always made her nose wrinkle. Only Auren would carry something this volatile.

Her gaze moved beside it.

Footprints.

Large, uneven. Pressed deep into the ground. Erratic spacing, like someone bracing for a fight or pivoting quickly to dodge. Fresh.

Still warm.

Jeis’s breath caught in her throat as the world around her sharpened.

Hunter’s instinct flooded her veins.

Her ears twitched slightly, attuned to every rustling leaf, every whisper of wind. She crouched lower and scanned the perimeter. freёweɓnovel_com

Then—another form.

A body slumped against the base of a tree, just outside the clearing.

She moved in a blur and approached cautiously.

A goldhair scout.

Unconscious. Breathing, but barely. No signs of open wounds or blood loss. His head lolled slightly to the side, suggesting a clean knockout—likely from a precision strike or well-aimed magic.

It was a silent takedown. Professional.

Her jaw clenched as she rose.

This wasn’t a random beast attack. This wasn’t careless brawling among younglings.

This was calculated.

Jeis turned slowly, eyes narrowing as she took in the scene as a whole. The clearing told a story—and she knew how to read every broken leaf and scorch mark like a scribe reading prophecy.

The Lantaw watcher—gone. Most likely neutralized first, from a distance.

The scout—dispatched next, before he could raise alarm.

The potion—smashed before it could be consumed. An interruption during a desperate attempt to counterattack or escape.

Auren and Jaira had been ambushed.

Every move of the attackers had been clean. Tactical. Efficient.

Too efficient.

Jeis’s heart pounded as the grim picture formed in her mind. This wasn’t just about some elf trying to teach the human boy a lesson.

No—this was a hunt.

Planned. Executed with precision. Aimed not at the girl, not at the scouts—but at Auren.

The forest around her seemed to darken as the truth settled in her bones.

This wasn’t a test.

It was an execution attempt.

Her breath slowed. Her senses honed like a blade.

Who?

Only two names came to mind—like oil rising to the surface of still water.

Rhiki.

Kardel.

She had long suspected their animosity toward Auren. Their words during council meetings had always dripped with disdain, veiled insults tossed like poisoned seeds into the air. But now, it was no longer just talk—it was action. They had crossed the line. What was once prejudice had turned into open, calculated assault.

Jeis clenched her fists at her sides, knuckles whitening. Around her, the jungle held its breath. Even the birds seemed to hush in fear.

Auren had come to them as an outsider, yes—a human in an elven land, strange and awkward. But that label had long since faded in her heart. He had become part of their lives. A constant presence in her daughter’s world. And somewhere along the way... he became more than just her student.

He became something like a second son.

She remembered it clearly—Auren, barely three years old, still clumsy on his feet, had come to her one day with the most serious expression a child could ever wear. In his tiny hands, he held those strange homemade weapons of his—more toys than tools at the time—but in his eyes burned something deeper. Fierce. Real.

"Please teach me how to hunt the Night Stalker."

Jeis had almost burst out laughing that day. The sight of a toddler making such a bold request would’ve amused even the hardest war chief. But something in his tone made her pause. It wasn’t just childish bravado. It was conviction.

She tried to refuse, of course. Gently, at first. Then firmly. A human child didn’t belong on a hunt, especially not one involving creatures as dangerous as the Night Stalkers. His body wasn’t built for the forest like theirs. He didn’t move like an elf, didn’t sense the forest like they did.

But Auren didn’t care.

He returned the next day.

And the next.

And the next after that.

Each time, asking the same thing.

Each time, his eyes burning brighter.

Eventually, Jeis gave in. She told herself it was just for one lesson. Then one turned into two. Then weeks passed. Months. Before she knew it, Auren had become one of her most dedicated pupils. He absorbed everything with a hunger no child his age should have. He learned to read the subtle shifts in air pressure before a beast’s approach, to tell what kind of creature passed by from a single broken twig. And when it came to understanding the nature of the Night Stalkers, he didn’t just study them—he felt them. Their patterns. Their motives. Their fear.

And while her own daughter was gifted, Jeis couldn’t help but notice that Auren trained with a desperation that went beyond mere skill.

He trained like he had something to prove.

Or someone to protect.

It reminded her, painfully, of someone else.

Her late husband.

The same driven eyes. The same quiet burden behind every movement.

And then came the day Auren completed his training. He was just six years old, skin bruised from the trials, sweat pouring down his brow, but his eyes still steady. That day, he stood before her and declared,

"I promise to protect Jaira with my life."

That moment etched itself into Jeis’s memory, carved deeper than any blade.

And now—now that she had found her daughter alive but Auren missing—the meaning behind those words hit her like a falling star.

He had made good on that promise.

Auren didn’t run. He stayed behind. He fought. He protected Jaira even at the cost of his own safety.

And for Jeis, that wasn’t just brave. That was family.

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