Trevar took one careful step forward, eyes narrowing cautiously. His stance shifted, uneasy and alert. Something was wrong about this intruder. Neither he nor his partner had sensed their presence at all.

  “Who are you?” Trevar called out sharply. “State your business.”

  Silence filled the alleyway like a creeping mist. The cloaked figure didn’t move, didn’t respond, didn’t make even the slightest sound. Celeste, however, felt her pulse quicken, a cold shiver crawling up her spine. Her usually composed eyes grew narrow, tinged with undeniable caution. Every instinct screamed at her: danger. The shadow standing before her now wasn’t merely a potential threat—not an innocent child who might someday fall into darkness, but something far worse.

  A calamity in waiting.

  “We won’t ask again,” Hiltemer broke in quietly, stepping forward to match Trevar’s stance. “State your busi—”

  He never finished that sentence.

  Everything happened in an instant.

  The cloaked figure surged forward, swift as a phantom. Trevar reacted just as fast, a sword materializing in his grasp. He swung sharply, intercepting the intruder’s strike—clawed fingers attached to a hand embedded in silvery metal. Her hood slipped, revealing eyes burning scarlet.

  Zerus grasped his sword firmly, her strength monstrous and unyielding. She pushed harder, slowly forcing Trevar back, boots grinding loudly against the cobblestone street.

  “Hand over that child,” she spoke softly. “I do not wish to—”

  “Move!” Hiltemer shouted.

  Trevar’s body reacted without thought, rolling swiftly to the side. As he moved, Hiltemer’s concentrated burst of mana tore through the air, shrieking violently. It slammed into the cloaked figure, exploding in a forceful blast. Walls rattled; dust and smoke surged upward.

  Trevar rose quickly, sword ready. His eyes pierced the swirling smoke, searching for signs of life.

  Seconds passed.

  Then the haze cleared, and standing several meters away was the intruder, unfazed. She brushed away the lingering smoke as if batting off an insect, utterly indifferent to Hiltemer’s attack.

  Finally, they saw her clearly.

  Beneath that ragged cloak stood a woman in rough, worn clothing. Yet this was no ordinary woman—this was something different. Something inhuman.

  Instead of fingernails, she bore wicked, sharpened claws. Where flesh should have covered her chest, there was instead a cavity—an unnatural, open wound displaying her heart behind glass. Dark, ethereal chains twisted inward, anchored deep within her organs. The skin around this bizarre installation appeared melted, carelessly patched together as if by an indifferent surgeon.

  Across her shoulders, arms, and torso, mechanical parts intertwined with living tissue. Polished silver metals gleamed; tiny gears turned in rhythm, thin tubes and joints permitting smooth movement.

  She was an abomination—part demon, part machine, fully monstrous.

  Scarlet, slit-pupiled eyes glared at the guards. Her lips curled, briefly showing rows of small, dagger-like fangs.

  “One… last… time,” Zerus snarled deeply, voice filled with quiet menace. “Hand over the child—or die.”

  She dropped low, limbs spread wide, claws extended like a beast prepared to strike. In a heartbeat, she could leap forward with predatory speed; her presence radiated bloodlust, raw and violent.

  Trevar and Hiltemer stiffened, muscles tensed to the brink, minds racing. Their VIP lay unconscious in the arms of a healer—a non-combatant. Worse yet, the enemy standing before them was anything but trivial. Hiltemer’s earlier attack hadn’t even scratched her; it merely stirred her anger.

  “She doesn’t have a lock,” Trevar muttered, gaze locked onto the creature. “She either slipped into Talo somehow or broke her lock."

  “I’ll alert Lorrin,” Hiltemer replied quickly. He channeled mana, preparing to activate the communication gem embedded in his bracer. Yet, just as his magic sparked—

  Zerus moved.

  She surged forward like lightning, claws aimed straight for Hiltemer’s throat. Trevar lunged to intercept, barely managing to raise his blade in time.

  Their clash echoed loudly through the alleyway.

  With a guttural roar, Zerus’ strength erupted. Trevar’s sword—and Trevar himself—flew backward through the air. His body hurtled past Hiltemer, crashing violently to the ground far behind Celeste. Tumbling uncontrollably, Trevar managed to jam his sword into the stone street, skidding to a rough halt.

  A vibration surged along Trevar’s arm.

  He glanced down. The crystal on his bracer glowed a vivid, urgent red. Hiltemer had succeeded—reinforcements had been called, the alert sent. Now, all they needed was to hold out long enough for the War Paragons to arrive.

  Though both were middle Gold-tier fighters, Trevar realized they were outmatched. Even he would have struggled to withstand Hiltemer’s spell, yet this enemy had shrugged it off like a mild annoyance.

  “Good work, Hilt! Just stall her a bit more and—”

  Trevar raised his eyes, voice trailing off instantly. All color drained from his face.

  There was no way to stall now.

  Behind Celeste, who was hurriedly retreating with Enya still limp in her arms, stood Hiltemer—caught directly in the demon’s grasp.

  No, not standing. Floating.

  Zerus held him aloft effortlessly, claws locked around his neck. Sharp tips slowly pierced the skin, blood dripping steadily from the shallow punctures. Hiltemer’s left arm was gone, lying on the alley floor in a pool of red.

  A weak groan slipped through Hiltemer’s lips as he struggled in vain against her overwhelming strength. His eyes stared directly down into hers—those crimson slits burning back at him. But something was wrong. The demon’s face twitched; her eyelids quivered as if fighting an invisible force.

  She could have crushed his throat at any moment, yet somehow she held back, fighting herself from delivering the killing blow.

  “Hilt!” Trevar screamed desperately, forcing himself upright, sword shaking in his grip.

  The demon’s eyes flickered toward Trevar—just for a fraction of a second.

  But that split moment was enough.

  Hiltemer’s mana exploded violently, patterns glowing along his remaining arm. The spell was complex, hastily constructed, but it was his only chance. A roughly-formed 8-pattern spell circuit. He screamed with effort, slamming his palm directly against Zerus’ forehead. The intricate spell crackled dangerously, barely stable—

  —and detonated in a deafening explosion.

  The blast swallowed the alleyway whole. A wall of white-hot energy surged outward, tearing bricks from walls and ripping stone from the ground. Both buildings shook violently, groaning as their foundations cracked, sending clouds of shattered debris skyward. A thunderous rumble echoed through the streets, and in the aftermath, the sound of tumbling debris filled the air.

  Everyone in the alleyway was hit and blown back.

  Slowly, and painfully, Trevar forced himself to his feet, head spinning and ears ringing. He coughed, lungs burning from the dust-filled air. Through blurred eyes, he scanned the chaos before him.

  The alley was now a ruin. Crumbling walls sagged inward, bricks still tumbling from above, splashing loudly into a newly formed crater. He staggered, gripping his sword for support. A sense of panic quickly rose in his chest.

  Hiltemer was nowhere to be seen.

  “Dammit,” he spat bitterly, fighting dizziness. He stumbled forward, eyes darting desperately around the smoke-filled battlefield. “Hiltemer!”

  No response.

  Trevar's heart sank. His partner had vanished, either buried or—he refused to finish that thought. Anger flared, giving him strength, and he clenched his jaw, forcing himself forward step by trembling step.

  Then he spotted Celeste.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  She lay motionless beneath a pile of rubble, half-buried and clearly unconscious. Dust covered her face, blood trickling from a gash along her temple. Nearby, sprawled limply on the cracked stone, lay Enya, defenseless and utterly vulnerable.

  His eyes snapped upward, ice-cold fear gripping his chest.

  Above the child stood Zerus, battered yet eerily calm, staring down at Enya. Her tattered cloak hung loosely, and blood trickled from numerous wounds. Mechanical parts sparked erratically, dark chains around her heart shifting uneasily.

  Yet she stood unfazed. The blood along her skin seemed to move, seeping into her pores and mechanical skin. Her injuries had disappeared, and aside from her clothing, was like they no longer existed, the evidence of such gone.

  Her crimson eyes burned with primal intensity, fixated solely upon Enya—completely unaware or uncaring of Trevar's stumbling approach.

  “Get away from her!” Trevar roared, voice cracking, desperate yet determined. He tightened his grip on the sword, muscles tense, as mana flared fiercely through his veins.

  The ground shattered beneath him as he surged forward, blade sweeping out in a lethal arc. His sword blazed with power, poised perfectly at the demon’s exposed neck. In the fraction of a heartbeat, the edge was about to strike true—

  —but Zerus moved impossibly fast.

  Her body twisted like a puppet pulled by invisible strings, snapping from a casual stance into a predatory crouch. The black chains inside her pulsed briefly, then her body snapped into pose. Her clawed hand blurred forward, slicing downward in a ruthless, crimson streak.

  One drop of blood fell.

  Then another.

  The third fell heavier, landing with a muted thud.

  Trevar collapsed, a jagged slash carved deep across his chest. His shattered sword clattered uselessly, pieces scattering along the broken stone. Eyes once fierce and defiant now stared emptily into nothingness, his fiery adrenaline now extinguished. His fingers slowly uncurled from the broken hilt.

  Time froze, stretched into an endless, silent eternity. Yet only Trevar was trapped within it—not the demon. Her task was unfinished.

  With a quick and quiet movement, Zerus bent down, lifting Enya gently from the rubble. The girl’s skin bore faint bruises and shallow scratches from the debris, but her head and body were miraculously intact, free from serious wounds.

  Zerus felt an unexpected flicker of relief. The child was safe—for now. Her sensitive ears twitched, picking up distant sounds.

  More guards. Approaching rapidly. No time left.

  Clutching Enya securely, Zerus broke into a run, swiftly disappearing down the alley toward the older districts—the very path Celeste had planned to take. She moved with fluid speed, blending into shadowed streets untouched by patrols, leaving chaos behind her.

  Slowly, the echoing chaos faded. Dust settled quietly, smoke drifting into thin wisps. The broken alley returned to silence—except for one small detail.

  Where Enya had lain moments before, a gentle glow appeared. Ethereal light seeped upward, emerging silently from beneath the cracked stone.

  A figure rose gracefully from the ground—a ghostly silhouette, a perfect, spectral imitation of Enya herself.

  The Inner Darkness Apparition.

  “What the hell happened here…?”

  Lorrin Veyd, Overseer of Order, stood frozen at the scene before him. Chaos was an understatement; the destruction laid out in front of him was nearly unprecedented. Two entire buildings had collapsed. Fragments of twisted metal, shattered glass, and charred wood littered the cracked, blackened earth. Such destruction rarely happened ever since Talo implemented locks as part of their city’s security measures.

  “Sir Lorrin!” a voice called sharply.

  Adjusting his spectacles, Lorrin moved toward the call.

  Josier knelt carefully, fingertips tracing faint patterns across the dusty rubble.

  “What have you found, Josier?” Lorrin asked, eyes flicking briefly to the massive piles of broken, pale bricks.

  Josier was a decorated member of the force. He was a Platinum-Tier War Paragon, though; he didn’t participate in combat often. His role was as a scout; swiftly relaying information was his forte, and his memory held an encyclopedic collection of details. He possessed a sharp, analytical mind, perfectly suited for the subtle art of espionage.

  Assassination in particular, was his specialty.

  “There are only two clear mana signatures,” Josier said, brow knitted thoughtfully. “Whatever destroyed this place—it was done by one, maybe two spells at most. I'd wager a ninety-percent likelihood it was a single powerful spell.”

  “Any idea whose?” Lorrin pressed. “One of ours, or an enemy?”

  Josier rose, slowly turning as he scanned the wreckage, eyes narrowed in careful thought.

  “Hey, over here!” another voice shouted suddenly from deeper within the debris.

  Both men quickly made their way toward it.

  Shelmi crouched beside another guard, Eldan, both of them staring grimly downward. At their feet lay a battered body, sprawled limply across shattered stone.

  Lorrin’s breath caught. “Nine hells…” he muttered, recognizing Trevar instantly.

  This was one of the guards assigned to protect Enya—but why here, far from the academy? Trevar was brash, impulsive even, yet he never abandoned a duty, especially one given directly by the Overseer himself. And Hiltemer—Trevar’s steadfast partner—was nowhere to be seen.

  Josier stepped closer, inspecting the fallen guard carefully. “What happened to him?”

  Shelmi sighed heavily, glancing briefly at Lorrin. “Looks pretty bad, guys. His only visible injury is this nasty set of claw marks across his chest. His eyes have gone pale, but somehow the poor bastard is still breathing.”

  She stood, brushing dust from her uniform.

  “Probably activated a skill or an artifact to delay death. But he'll need urgent treatment. Might have to summon Celeste or another healer immediately.”

  A heavy huff announced another arrival—a large figure with dark-red scales and a draconid’s broad frame.

  “That won’t be happening,” Nakrin said gruffly.

  Josier turned sharply toward him. “Why’s that?”

  Nakrin jabbed a clawed thumb over his shoulder. “Celeste—the head healer—she was found unconscious near the rubble back there. Yvexis is already treating her. A few cuts and bruises, but nothing life-threatening.”

  Shelmi folded her arms, eyes narrowing with suspicion. “What the hell happened here? Why are so many injured in some abandoned corner of the city? And why was mana unleashed at such catastrophic scale? Trevar and Hilt aren’t reckless enough to use high-tier spells unless desperate. Speaking of—where is Hilt?”

  A tense silence settled among the group. Lorrin’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening as a single thought echoed endlessly in his mind:

  What exactly happened here—and why was everything suddenly spiraling out of control?

  A crowd had already begun to gather. Curious citizens—those who weren't attending the tournament—pressed toward the ruined street. Two collapsed buildings, smoldering rubble, and lingering clouds of smoke made it impossible to ignore. Chaos like this wasn't something Talo saw often, even during festivals.

  “Shelmi, Eldan,” Lorrin commanded sharply, “secure the perimeter. Keep the civilians back until we understand what’s happened.”

  Both War Paragons nodded, moving quickly to block the growing crowd. But before they could fully depart—

  “Sir Lorrin,” Josier interrupted, voice unusually tense. “I think this might be bigger than we realized.”

  Lorrin turned sharply, following Josier’s gaze toward something—someone—rapidly approaching.

  Pell advanced swiftly, his steps heavy, Risha trailing anxiously beside him. Even from a distance, his irritation was clear in the burning glow of his soul flames.

  “What the hell happened here?” Pell demanded, voice sharp and dangerously low.

  “Mr. Pell,” Lorrin greeted cautiously, adjusting his spectacles. Beside him, Nakrin visibly stiffened at Pell’s arrival. After their previous confrontation at the guardhouse, Nakrin had no affection for Pell or Enya. Still, having faced severe discipline already, he wisely kept silent, crossing his arms with an irritated huff.

  Pell ignored the draconid entirely, focusing solely on Lorrin. “Where is she?” he pressed, each word heavy with accusation.

  A grim silence spread through the gathered War Paragons. Nakrin's eyes narrowed in realization, Shelmi exchanged a worried glance with Eldan, and Josier’s typically composed face tightened with unease. They'd suspected something terrible might involve Enya from the moment Pell appeared—but Pell's question confirmed it. After all, Trevar and Hiltemer were in charge of watching over her from the outside.

  Lorrin drew a slow, strained breath. “We don't fully know yet. From what we've gathered, a powerful spell—or possibly two—destroyed this entire area. Trevar, one of the guards assigned to watch Enya, lies gravely wounded. Hiltemer, his partner, is missing—likely buried under the rubble somewhere.” He paused, his jaw tightening. “Celeste, our head healer, was found unconscious beneath the debris.”

  Pell’s soul flames narrowed sharply. “I already know why Enya ended up out here. Celeste took her. But tell me this: where the hell was your precious security detail? Why was Enya left alone with a fanatic healer in some abandoned alley?”

  Lorrin's expression darkened further. “Trevar and Hiltemer were the detail assigned today. They were tasked with monitoring Enya discreetly, watching for external threats. As you mentioned, they were to keep their distance for your peace of mind and privacy. But... as you can plainly see, something attacked them directly—and overwhelmed them.”

  Pell’s jaw clicked irritably, frustration evident even without flesh. “Attacked by what exactly?”

  “We don’t know yet,” Josier answered carefully. “But whatever it was, it was powerful enough to nearly kill Trevar outright and cause Hiltemer to vanish. We haven't had an accident like this happen in Talo for nearly ten years. And even then, no conflict caused this much destruction back then at this scale, to destroy even buildings and gravely wound our guards.”

  “What do you mean by Celeste took Enya? Was she not in the academy participating in the tournament? As far as I know, Celeste was due for a break in duties a while ago,” Lorrin asked, cutting in.

  Pell turned suddenly, placing a gentle but firm hand on Risha’s shoulder. “Tell them what you told me, Risha.”

  She hesitated, voice trembling slightly as she spoke. “Lady Celeste approached Enya and me after our treatment. She said she wanted to personally confirm the healing, but something felt wrong. When Enya tried to refuse, Celeste threatened her—threatened both of us. She said if we spoke up, she’d pull the healers from the tournament. Kids could die, and it’d be my fault. And then she took Enya away.”

  Lorrin’s eyes narrowed sharply, his frown deepening. He knew Celeste held extreme beliefs; her grudge against the so-called "evil" was well-known. Lord Clament himself had temporarily relieved her of healing duties to prevent exactly this kind of incident. Yet Lorrin hadn’t believed Celeste would actually dare something so drastic. Clament probably didn't expect this either. Members of the Sanctity of Order are against evil, demons, and other typical vile things, but to kidnap a child... that is far out of line with their general philosophy and conduct. Was Celeste truly that far gone already?

  “So Celeste took the child,” Lorrin muttered darkly, frustration evident in his voice. “But that still leaves the bigger question unanswered: what exactly happened in this alley? Who—or what—did Trevar and Hiltemer end up fighting? It wasn't caused by Celeste.”

  Silence fell again, heavier and more ominous. Josier glanced uneasily toward the rubble. Nakrin shifted with visible tension, understanding the weight of what this implied.

  Pell stepped closer, voice dangerously low. “Then let me make this clear, Overseer. Your guards failed, your city’s head healer kidnapped Enya, and something powerful enough to cripple two whatever-tier War Paragons now has her and you haven’t the faintest clue at what happened.” His soul flames surged brightly, making his skull look ghastly. “I suggest you start figuring it out quickly. Because if anything happens to that child—Talo itself might not survive the consequences.”

  Although it was a threat, something that Lorrin wouldn’t have tolerated—not with his position as head Overseer—there was little he could do. This skeleton was the attendant of such an influential figure. One misstep by him could cause the suffering of the nearly hundred thousands within Talo’s walls.

  Lorrin was unsure. Perhaps it was his fault, that in the decade of peace within Talo, he had become complacent with continually protecting the peace, thinking the dangers only existed in the south. Yet there was something already lurking within their city's white walls.

  As they stood around, thinking about what had happened, another figure walked out from the rubble. Pell was the first to notice.

  “Is that…” he spoke. His soul flames tightened as he spotted the Inner Darkness Apparition, walking calmly towards them.