The air thrummed with vibrant music, the melodies of wind and string instruments weaving through the room, each note alive, making the atmosphere itself sway with energy. In Ulharak, it was an honor—almost sacred—for women to perform, their music an offering of purity and devotion. Talia recalled fragments of lessons about this revered tradition. The musicians were draped in ceremonial garments: long skirts that brushed the floor and closed-toe shoes, symbols of their chastity and grace.

But the reverence of the past was nowhere to be found here. Around her, the women wore provocative outfits—short skirts that teased mid-thigh and sandals that left their feet exposed. Blouses were daringly cut to reveal ample cleavage, designed to attract rather than conceal. The weight of hungry male gazes settled on Talia, but she remained unfazed, having long since grown accustomed to this attention.

She was undeniably beautiful—sharp-featured, with short black hair framing her face like a sleek, dark halo. Her skin glowed, flawless and untouched by time, but it was her eyes—vivid, jewel-like green—that drew the most notice. They gleamed beneath the light of the chandelier above, capturing and reflecting its brilliance, as if she were carved from some otherworldly material.

"You have to try this, Ms. Navana!" A girlish voice broke through her thoughts. The young woman beside her was dressed as provocatively as she, both of them escorts for Commander Krel. "It’s meat from the southern isles."

Before the girl finished speaking, Talia had already grabbed a leg of roasted bird, tearing into it with a wild enthusiasm that would have stunned anyone from a more refined background. She chewed loudly, savoring the rich juices. Manners had never been her strong suit—a fact her mother once tried to remedy with etiquette lessons that now seemed laughably useless.

"You really enjoy the exotic, don't you?" the girl, Veronica, giggled, her tone light and teasing. "Maybe after tonight, we can come back for more?"

Talia forced a smile, but a flicker of unease stirred inside her at hearing the name “Navana”—a name she had adopted for this mission, though it still felt foreign on her tongue. It was necessary for what she was about to do, she reminded herself.

Sucking the bone clean, she turned to Veronica, her voice smooth and casual, concealing the storm inside. "Veronica, darling, you forgot our change of clothes. And the perfume."

The girl's eyes widened, panic flashing across her face. "I—I thought I packed them! I’m so sorry, Ms. Navana! I’ll get them right away!" Her flustered apology spilled out as she darted off.

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Talia watched her go, guilt gnawing at her. There were no clothes. She had sent Veronica away for her own safety. Over the months, Talia had grown unexpectedly fond of the girl, a bond she hadn’t anticipated but couldn't afford to dwell on. She had a job to do.

Wiping her hands on her skirt, Talia turned and began her silent ascent up the grand staircase, the weight of her intentions heavy but her heartbeat steady. The lively sounds of the gathering faded as she reached the second floor, where two guards stood vigilant, spears crossed over the entrance to General Krel’s chambers.

"What are you doing up here?" one of them barked, his eyes narrowing at her approach. "The general isn’t seeing anyone until after the feast."

The low security almost made Talia laugh. Who would dare challenge a spark user like Krel? These guards were just for show. She considered sparing them, but the thought was fleeting. They wouldn’t let her pass. And she had no time for mercy.

Before the second guard could finish his breath, Talia moved. She shot forward, her hand raised, the air around her vibrating with energy as she summoned her Shine Ring. It didn’t glow, but the palpable power emanating from it made the guards instinctively recoil.

"Combust," she whispered.

The world exploded.

It erupted in an instant, violent and absolute. The world didn’t just break—it disintegrated. The air roared with the fury of unleashed energy, tearing through the room in a shockwave that vaporized everything in its path. The walls buckled outward, the stone cracking and splintering as if struck by the fist of a god.

Wooden beams snapped like kindling, flung through the air in shards. The chandelier overhead shattered, raining glass down in a sparkling cascade as fire erupted from the very air itself, licking hungrily at everything it touched.

The guards were swallowed by the blast, their bodies thrown like ragdolls into the obliterated walls. Talia felt the force rush past her, her hair whipping around her face, but she stood firm, unflinching amid the chaos she had unleashed.

Below, the music screeched to a halt, replaced by the frantic, terrified screams of the guests. Smoke billowed, thick and choking, filling the air with the acrid stench of burning wood and stone.

Through the debris, she caught sight of a massive figure emerging from the rubble—a grotesque silhouette of a man. No, not just any man. General Krel. The force of the blast had left cracks in his spark-formed armor, and he staggered, those black eyes narrowing into slits of pure hatred as they locked onto her.

Talia jumped from the second-story balcony, landing with a heavy thud that sent dust swirling around her. She rose to her feet, her gaze unwavering, fixated on Krel as he glared back, fury radiating from him like heat from a forge.

The explosion had torn through the mansion, sending fragments of stone and wood into the night sky, and leaving a gaping hole in the once-grand structure. Smoke billowed around Talia as she stood amidst the wreckage, her chest heaving from exertion. The sound of screams and chaos from the party faded into the background as her focus narrowed on the figure emerging from the rubble—General Krel, his stone-encased body nearly impervious to the destruction she had caused.