I Became a Raid Boss-Chapter 131: Raid (2)

Anyone who enjoys manga or anime has probably seen this kind of storyline at least once:

A character who has been brainwashed or lost their mind suddenly regains clarity at the desperate cry of someone dear to them.

It’s a rather cliché trope, but its continued popularity speaks to how impactful such a development can be.

Daeun asked herself:

Am I the most important person to Kana?

...I don’t know. But—

When it came to whether or not she was important to Kana, she could confidently say this much:

I am.

It wasn’t arrogance; the difference in Kana’s behavior toward her compared to others was too obvious to ignore.

When Daeun spoke, Kana listened.

Even when there wasn’t anything specific to discuss, Kana would casually approach her to chat.

She would crack jokes with an effortless demeanor, sometimes adding playful physical gestures.

Kana’s actions made it clear that she saw Daeun as someone she was close to. Even with Selene, who had grown considerably closer to Kana after weeks of traveling together, Kana didn’t act this way.

This led Daeun to think:

Maybe if Kana sees me, she’ll come to her senses.

She might be wandering aimlessly, having lost all reason, but perhaps seeing Daeun could bring her back to herself—like flipping a switch.

With that hope, Daeun set off toward where Kana was.

“...Kana?”

The moment Daeun stepped inside the barrier and faced Kana, her expectations crumbled to dust.

Even as Daeun called her name, Kana gave no response, staring blankly into the void. It was as if she didn’t even recognize her own name.

Feeling a wave of unease, Daeun took a few steps closer. That was when those dazed, pink eyes finally turned toward her.

“...Huh?”

The next moment, Daeun found herself staring at a ceiling—familiar, yet always strange.

Daeun lay there in a daze for a long while before her trembling hands reached for her chest, fumbling over the exact spot where she had been pierced by Kana’s sharp miasma.

What shook her wasn’t the fact that she had died.

Kana attacked me.

The realization jolted Daeun as if waking her from a dream.

She finally understood that hope alone wasn’t enough to change anything.

Just thinking optimistically and believing things would work out by simply meeting Kana—how naïve could she have been?

What now?

Having come here without a solid plan, purely on the thought that she needed to meet Kana, she hadn’t prepared for failure. Now, all she could do was pace nervously.

Then, an idea came from the chaotic chatter of her stream’s viewers.

"If you weaken her, wouldn’t you be able to talk to her?"

The suggestion made sense, so Daeun acted on it immediately. Which brought her to her current predicament.

“What does a fight that doesn’t make your heart race even mean?”

A fight is a fight, isn’t it? How could there be ones that made your heart race and ones that didn’t?

To Daeun, whose heart pounded madly at the mere thought of facing an opponent with her sword, it was incomprehensible.

But she wasn’t the only one struggling to understand.

‘Why doesn’t she get it?’

Yuki also couldn’t understand Daeun. If she had come all this way to ask for help, surely she must have felt something similar?

‘This is such a waste of time.’

Yuki couldn’t help but think of how many swings of her sword she could have practiced in the time they’d been talking.

Yet, despite her annoyance, she didn’t leave.

“Kana’s swordsmanship is beautiful.”

Even Yuki, with her awkward way of speaking, could talk endlessly about Kana’s swordsmanship.

How sharp her straight strikes were.

How graceful the curves her blade drew in the air appeared.

How her small frame seemed incapable of wielding such power, yet she moved with unmatched elegance.

Such trivialities didn’t matter to Yuki.

‘Why waste time analyzing when you can simply watch and learn?’

That’s why Yuki always found it laughable when people in chat debated over accuracy and details.

‘The truth is right there. How could anyone not see it?’

“I’ve watched every video Kana appears in. I never miss Journey’s streams either,” Yuki continued.

“...Yes, Kana is amazing. I know that, so can we move on to the point now?”

It seemed Yuki could genuinely go on about Kana all day. Unable to take it any longer, Daeun interrupted with an exasperated expression.

“What does the beauty of Kana’s swordsmanship have to do with you not feeling excited about fighting her?”

“...Because the swordsmanship she’s displaying now isn’t beautiful.”

Though the power in Kana’s strikes was undeniable, her current swordsmanship lacked any of the elegance or finesse it once had.

It felt as if she were looking at her own past—a time when she thought slashing and stabbing with brute force was all there was to swordsmanship.

Realizing this had immediately dampened Yuki’s enthusiasm.

“I have no desire to fight against a sword wielded without purpose or understanding.”

“...Are you sure you’re not from another world? Or maybe you’ve got memories from a past life?” Daeun asked, blinking in disbelief.

“You’ve probably read too many novels.”

“Sounds like you have too, Yuki. I’m willing to bet if you’d been born a few hundred years ago, your name would be in the history books.”

Anyway...

Daeun finally began to understand what Yuki was trying to say.

She herself had felt that Kana’s current behavior was unnatural.

How could a girl who had freely roamed the continent of Ardina suddenly become completely passive the moment she was trapped within a barrier?

Even if she had lost her reasoning and was acting purely on instinct, it didn’t make sense.

It was almost as if someone was controlling her.

“Following a set script isn’t interesting.”

If Yuki hadn’t experienced her epiphany after meeting Kana, she might have agreed to help without hesitation.

But the insight she gained had raised her threshold for interest, and Daeun’s request failed to spark it.

“You really won’t help?”

“No.”

Even when Daeun asked again, clinging to a sliver of hope, Yuki’s answer was a firm rejection.

What would have happened if Daeun hadn’t been around?

There wouldn’t have been infighting among the players, nor would the imperial knights have marched to battle.

Smaller changes would have happened too, no doubt.

And me as well.

If not for Daeun leading Kana into the world, Yuki herself might never have experienced her breakthrough.

She might have visited Kana out of curiosity at most, wondering, “Is this boss for real?” But Kana certainly wouldn’t have crossed swords with her as kindly as she had before.

Yuki owed that experience—consciously or not—to Daeun.

Still, her feelings of gratitude didn’t extend to the idea of helping now.

“I can’t do it.”

The thought of fighting someone who looked like her master but wasn’t made Yuki’s enthusiasm evaporate entirely.

Daeun tried again and again to persuade her, but Yuki’s resolve remained unshaken.

Her steadfastness was almost unbreakable.

As Daeun, worn out by the effort, debated whether to give up, an idea suddenly struck her.

“If your decision is that firm, then there’s nothing I can say to change it. Sorry for bothering you.”

“You weren’t a bother.”

“Liar. Anyway, I’ll try asking someone else for help.”

Daeun pretended to leave, turning her back to Yuki and taking a few steps away.

Then, as if remembering something, she stopped and glanced back over her shoulder.

“By the way... are you really okay with this?”

“What?”

“This raid will only last for a week. The barrier can’t handle the miasma Kana is radiating beyond that. A day’s already passed, so there are six days left.”

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“I know.”

Yuki had seen the notices.

They were posted everywhere, impossible to miss.

“Do you know what happens if we fail to subdue her within the week?”

“...What happens?”

“The Empire will handle it themselves.”

Yuki’s indifference didn’t seem to waver, so Daeun pushed a little further.

“As you know, Kana and the Empire have a long-standing grudge. They’ve been itching to destroy each other for ages, right?”

“And? If you’re asking me to help out of pity—”

“No, that’s not it. Just hear me out.

“If Kana’s miasma is already spilling out like this, what do you think the Empire will do? They’ll see her as a threat that must be eliminated.”

No one in their right mind would attempt to reason with a walking disaster waiting to explode. It wasn’t written explicitly in the extermination order, but it was easy to predict what would come next.

“Sure, Kana’s strong, but can she really hold off the Empire’s full force by herself?”

“It’d be tough. No, impossible.”

“Exactly. She might deal some damage, but in the end, she’ll fall. And as I said, falling means dying.”

“....”

It was uncomfortable to even speak of the possibility of losing someone precious.

But if this can save her...

Daeun steeled her resolve.

Perhaps her determination shone through, because Yuki’s demeanor began to shift.

“...What’s your point?”

The fish had taken the bait.

Inwardly grinning, Daeun made sure to keep her expression neutral as she continued.

“This is a big enough event that it’ll go down in history. If that happens, Kana’s swordsmanship—the same swordsmanship you admire so much—will be lost forever. Are you really okay with that?”

“...!”

“Unless, of course, you plan to rewatch the old videos of her over and over again, hundreds of times.”

If her heart wouldn’t be moved, then Daeun would create a reason for it to move.

Knowing Yuki wouldn’t be swayed by sympathy or pity, Daeun appealed to the one thing she knew Yuki truly cared about: Kana’s swordsmanship.

Without waiting for a response, Daeun began to walk away again.

“Well then, I’ll be going—”

“...I’ll help.”

Just as planned.