Turning Chapter 954

At the sa ti, deep in the sea, Yuder was thinking the sa thing Kanna had been above.

“As expected, ntal fatigue cos before physical fatigue.”

He had never faced this exact situation in his previous life, but he had experienced enough prolonged campaigns. Even the Western front—easily resolved in this life—had once been a grueling month-long march of death and defeat in his past life.

What he’d learned from that was simple: even when the body is at its limit, if the mind holds out, you can survive. But if the mind breaks, no amount of physical strength will save you—the battle will be lost.

The mind, in that way, is far more fickle and difficult to control than the body. If you think you’re tired, even a perfectly fine body starts to feel exhausted. If you believe you can’t go on, then you really can’t.

That’s why Naham’s illusion-based ability had been so threatening. In raw power, he was only slightly stronger than Kanna. But what made him dangerous—even to Yuder—was how precisely and deliberately he exploited the mind.

So when Yuder decided to take on the six abnormal rifts and the massive monsters in a drawn-out war of attrition, his biggest concern had never been whether his power would hold out.

It was this: what if, after all this prolonged battle, no results co—and the morale and resolve of the Cavalry begins to fracture?

“Yuder! The tremors have started again. Is that thing finally coming out?”

Steber had returned to the depths after a short rest when the signal ca that the ninth battle was about to begin. He quickly moved his lips, and Yuder scanned his condition briefly.

His hands still moved well—nothing abnormal to the untrained eye. His complexion looked decent, likely thanks to a quick al of bread topside. But his eyes—those betrayed fatigue that couldn’t be hidden.

The extended wait between the eighth and ninth waves had broken the rhythm. That lingering anticipation had made it harder to suppress exhaustion—he was now aware of how tired he was.

“Yes. But we’ll need to observe a bit longer before we start attacking.”

“Damn bastard. What the hell’s taking so long? What’s he doing in there, rising dough?”

Steber cursed—unusual for him, which only further betrayed his fatigue. The other mbers, also watching the blackened sea floor, shared the sa expression. They looked like they wanted to curse too—but didn’t have the energy to even open their mouths.

“They ca back from a break, but sohow they’re moving even slower.”

This kind of ambiguous downti was both rest and not rest. It was like a slowly spreading poison.

Those who had been through sothing like this before knew how to gauge themselves and stay cautious. Those who hadn’t... had to rely on guidance from above and from more experienced comrades. The mbers had followed Yuder’s instructions well so far—but would they still? Even Yuder couldn’t say for sure.

“If it were the past, I’d have cracked them each over the head to wake them up and shift the mood. But I don’t want to do that this ti...”

The Yudrain Aile of his previous life wouldn’t have bothered with this kind of dilemma. In situations where a mont’s distraction could an death, there was no reason to ss around with “soft” thods.

But now, things were different.

These Cavalry mbers had followed him faithfully for hours. Not one had slacked off or tried to run. He didn’t want to dismiss their effort just for the sake of quick results.

He wondered—what would Kishiar have done?

“He probably could’ve turned everything around with just the right encouraging words.”

Despite having learned everything from Kishiar, Yuder still didn’t understand that part. In his experience, the two most effective ways to handle exhausted troops were: one, beat them yourself—and two, remove them from duty.

But when neither was an option, there was a third.

Yuder looked down at his hand, thinking.

“Maybe the best answer for the ninth wave... is to handle it alone.”

The final option: solve it all with force.

Not easy—but definitely effective.

“Yuder.”

Steber tapped Yuder on the shoulder. When he turned, Steber asked,

“If we’ve still got ti while that thing’s trying to co out... do you think I could go back up real quick? Or... I guess you’re not going, huh?”

“......”

Why is he asking again?

From midday on, Steber and the others had been asking Yuder if he wouldn’t at least step out for a short break. He hadn’t—because the monsters kept pouring out nonstop.

Even when there was a longer gap between the eighth and ninth, he had considered it, but ultimately stayed. Who knew when the rift would ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) suddenly change?

Complacency was montary—but the consequences, like a major earthquake, could last years. He wasn’t physically at his limit, nor struggling to endure, so he hadn’t regretted the choice.

“Even so... I didn’t think I’d last this long myself.”

In his previous life, the southern continent had already been devastated by the great quake, so there had never been a reason to dive this deep. And during the preparation phase for this current crisis, he’d been too busy to test how long he could stay subrged.

Sure, it was tiring to launch eight massive currents and drive monsters to shore—but simply remaining underwater was different. To Yuder, it felt no more difficult than soone asking how long they could breathe fresh air on land.

“Strangely, the longer I stay, the more it feels like I’m adapting.”

He guessed it was due to his natural affinity for elental forces—and the Red Stone power he had absorbed during the hailstorm.

Since that day, when that energy had burst through to the mana hole beneath his abdon, this was the first ti he’d used such vast amounts of power. Compared to what he rembered of his own ability, this was beyond his forr limits—yet it felt easier, more fluid, more intuitive than ever.

He’d felt these leaps in growth each ti he surpassed a limit, but this ti was extraordinary.

Even now, after all that effort, the dark veins of strain hadn’t shown on his skin—clear proof.

But he couldn’t exactly explain all that to others. So, as always, he kept it simple.

“Yes. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yeah. Figured as much.”

But then—why ask?

Yuder was still wondering when Steber motioned to the others—those who had just co down from a break.

He hadn’t noticed, but they were unusually close, almost clinging together. Just as his eyes narrowed in suspicion, they brought their hands forward and opened them.

“Here! We knew you’d say that, so we brought this.”

“......”

Yuder stared at what they held—and was montarily speechless.

“...Potatoes and... bread?”

Yes, that’s what it was.

But not just any bread and potatoes—they were encased in a kind of protective bubble, almost like a shield.

Yuder imdiately understood how it was done.

They’d used water manipulation to push the surrounding water away from the food and hold it in place. The only reason it had made it all the way down here intact was because they’d done it together—sothing impossible alone.

“Co on, eat it! It’s hard to keep it up!”

The group yelled when he just kept staring at the food. Yuder, still overwheld, finally picked it up. As his power naturally interacted with theirs, their protective force fell away—but the bread remained perfectly intact.

Why had they gone to such ridiculous lengths, wasting energy like this?

Before he could say anything, Steber laughed and spoke first.

“We all worked together to bring it, so don’t complain too much. If you don’t eat, how can the rest of us eat comfortably? Just eat sothing. You’ll need it for the ninth wave. The potatoes were roasted on land right before we ca down.”

Yuder looked around at their faces—all watching him, clearly intending to stand there until he ate.

He’d thought they were exhausted. And they were.

But at least one thing, he had to admit, he’d been wrong about.

The Cavalry was tired—but not broken in spirit.