[Iris Lefay]

Everything slowed.

As I coursed ardor and darkness into every part of my body, time itself seemed to bend, crawling to a near halt as my senses sharpened to their limit.

It wasn’t the Triquetra state that Mordred had mastered, but it was close. Close enough to save my life—again.

A second before the canister detonated in the maid's grasp, I instinctively reached for the syringe stored in my bracelet’s spatial compartment.

My fingers moved with deadly precision, faster than the eye could track.

Filled with a swirling red liquid, the syringe’s needle pierced my vein in one swift motion.

I felt the cold rush as the liquid mixed with my blood, the push of the plunger sending it racing into my bloodstream.

And now, cue the explosion.

The canister erupted in a violent storm, releasing a tempest of crimson smoke that tore the maid apart in a grotesque spray of blood and entrails.

Nightmarish screams pierced the air, as the thick crimson smoke twisted into spiraling pillars, lashing out like tendrils of lightning.

Before the half-undressed recruits could even react, the smoke tore toward them, moving with unnatural speed and ferocity.

Their terrified cries were drowned in a tide of blood-red vapor.

One wailing pillar rushed toward me, and I gritted my teeth.

"This better work," I muttered under my breath, bracing myself as it made contact.

The moment it touched my skin, the crimson smoke disintegrated into a fine mist, vanishing with a final, pitiful wail.

I exhaled sharply, a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

The syringe contained a small amount of Mordred’s blood.

The Pendragons. Immunity to poisons, possession, and all manner of curses ran in their veins.

I had asked him for a vial—curiosity mostly, for my own experiments. He’d found it strange, but he didn’t deny my request.

Items stored in the spatial storage of Deathwalker bracelets stayed in perfect condition. His blood had remained fresh, dormant, and waiting for the day I might need it.

And here we were.

One of my more dangerous experiments had involved injecting the blood into myself.

A gamble. If it failed, I’d risk becoming a wraith myself.

But if it worked… Well, it might just save my life. I didn’t know until now whether it would work.

But it did.

Speaking of wraiths…

The unholy screams from the wraiths had morphed into the tortured cries of the recruits, their bodies twisting as the crimson smoke took hold.

The transformation was brutal—skin pulling tight, bones snapping into unnatural positions.

I clicked my tongue in frustration as darkness gathered behind me, forming two massive wings that spread out with a heavy flap, lifting me from the floor to hover above the carnage.

"It had to be wraiths," I muttered, watching the gruesome scene below.

Their fingers had morphed into long, sickle-like claws, sharp enough to carve flesh from bone.

Some of their claws had serrated edges, making their strikes even more lethal. Their skin had taken on an ashen hue, dark veins pulsing through their bodies in intricate patterns like spider webs.

Their eyes were glowing a deep, feral red. Teeth like jagged needles filled their grotesque smiles, which stretched unnervingly far across their faces, their jaws distended beyond the realm of anything human.

A collective unholy scream erupted from the mouths of a hundred and five wraiths, a monstrous blend of their spirit forms and the twisted, suffering hosts.

And all those faces. Faces of young women frozen in agony, warped by the wraiths into something monstrous.

I will have nightmares about this.

Suddenly, as if drawn by some unseen force, all of their glowing eyes snapped to me.

I laughed, but the sound came out hollow. "They’ve really outdone themselves this time."

My brothers had truly lost their bloody minds. This—this was beyond cruelty.

I turned swiftly, facing the barrier at the far end of the room.

Reaching out, I pressed my hand against it, letting a gentle pulse of Ardor course through me. Probing its structure, I sought out its weak points.

The Commander had taught me how to feel the intricacies of barriers, to read the energy flowing through them like threads in a tapestry.

But as I studied the barrier more closely, a frown crept onto my face.

“That’s odd,” I murmured.

Jeko had said this was faulty. But the energy weave here—it was far too precise. Far too well-maintained.

The most surprising part? The control over the barrier was transferred from Minerva to Jeko.

Pieces began to fall into place.

The canister.

The maid.

The barrier.

Then I realized. Jeko Hess.

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“That son of a bitch," I whispered, the anger simmering in my chest. "So he was the spy."

I had suspected one of my brothers had a mole in the Shield—someone feeding them information. But I hadn’t been able to put the pieces together. Not until now.

I could feel the bile rise in my throat as the memories flooded back.

The way the assassins sent after me had known exactly where I would be, striking when I was alone. The way their moves seemed so rehearsed, so deliberate.

It had to be Jeko. I clenched my fists. He knew things only a Deathwalker could know.

Just wait, Jeko. Just wait.

I will rip you to shreds.

Suddenly, an unholy scream echoed from behind me. With a powerful flap of my wings, I dodged to the side just as a wraith collided with the barrier near me, then lunged at me in midair.

Acting swiftly, I extended my hand, gathering darkness into a sharp spike.

{Tenebris: Black Stake}

The stake pierced the wraith's chest, its momentum throwing it off balance and pinning it to the ground below.

Nightmarish cries filled the air as more wraiths ascended from the ground, hurtling toward me.

I skillfully evaded their onslaught, maneuvering through the air as wraiths narrowly missed me, plummeting to the ground below.

Darkness covered my body like smoke as I summoned multiple black spikes and launched them at the wraiths, their black needle-like teeth gnashing up at me from below.

Their red eyes gleamed with feral hunger, their bodies twisted and grotesque. They're faster than usual... and stronger.

Shrieks filled the room as the spikes struck their chests, went through their bodies, and pinned all hundred and five wraiths to the ground.

They screamed at me from the floor, their red eyes burning with the desire to tear me apart.

Hovering above them, I clicked my tongue in annoyance, my wings creating gusts of wind with each powerful flap.

My Spark Gloves, invaluable for this situation, were with Master Lorvar for maintenance.

Only the blue Purity Flames they produced could truly vanquish a wraith.

My black flames wouldn't suffice; the undead creatures would simply regenerate, making this a battle of attrition I wasn’t equipped for.

For now, my best option was to keep them pinned and find reinforcements armed with those blue flames.

But I can't get out because of the barrier.

Damn it. This is going to be a hassle. But things have to be resolved.

I need to find a way to contact Minerva or anyone outside of this room and get help, preferably from A rankers.

Wait. A rankers?

Suddenly, something sliced past me, disintegrating my left wing into shadows.

I plummeted, detecting multiple objects launching from below. Reacting swiftly, I unleashed my black appendages, deflecting them away.

I caught a glimpse of one of the objects and my blood ran cold.

It was a black claw covered in blood.

These feral creeps ripped out their own claws!

Many wraiths were now pulling themselves off the stakes, their horrifying cries mingling with the agonized screams of the recruits as the wraiths tore themselves free.

I gritted my teeth, slamming into the ground.

A shockwave of ardor and darkness erupted from me, scattering and shredding the nearest wraiths.

The rank of a wraith is mainly determined by the person it possesses.

When a wraith possesses an A rank, it has the power of that person.

And there are a lot of A ranks among the recruits.

As I rose to my feet, black tentacles sprouted from my back as I drew my daggers.

A wraith lunged at me, claws aimed at my face, and I deftly severed its head with a flick of my wrist, blood splattering over me.

Moving fluidly, I dispatched wraith after wraith, slicing through them with my daggers and tentacles.

One fell to a decapitating blow, another had its legs severed, and a third found my dagger in its eye socket.

The only thing I could hear was the slicing of flesh, the splatter of blood, and the impact caused by my tentacles.

But none of them were as loud as the horrifying screaming of the wraiths as they attacked me and fell on the wrong side of my blade.

All of them used to be humans, but now they are monsters hell-bent on killing me.

An A ranker can only be defeated by another of the same rank. But I’m different. I stand at the precipice of S rank, beyond A rank.

The strongest wraith here was just an intermediate A ranker; they stood no chance against me.

So far, the only injuries I have are a few scratches.

And so I unleashed a maelstrom of attacks on the advancing wraiths.

My tentacles lashed out in every direction, slashing through the air, while my blades cut through flesh as if it were mere paper.

Blood and entrails lay on the floor and I was bathed in them.

Summoning a multitude of black stakes, I pinned the wraiths to the ground, rendering them immobile.

The entire room was in chaos, the barrier pulsating violently as my aura clashed against it.

But it won't shatter. This barrier was designed to withstand assaults even from an S ranker.

Using a wraith's face as a springboard, I vaulted into the air. My tentacles reached out, crashing into the mass of wraiths below.

As I descended, darkness swirled around me to form numerous black rods, and I hurled them down upon the creatures with deadly precision.

Black vortices surrounded me, and different types of bladed weapons made of solid darkness emerged out of them.

{Tenebris: Bladefall}

I joined the many black weapons as they rained down on the wraiths.

Slamming into the midst of a cluster of wraiths, I unleashed an Ardor pulse and swung my dagger, releasing an arc of black flames.

{Tenebris: Flare Crescent}

The black immolating flames engulfed the creatures and their agonized screams echoed loudly as they burned.

However, just as swiftly as the flames consumed them, they regenerated and lunged at me once more.

Damn it. They’re regenerating too fast. These wraiths are different from the ones I’ve fought before.

I gritted my teeth and let my tentacles deal with them.

That is the major problem I am facing.

Without Purity Flames to vanquish them, my attacks were only temporary solutions.

And it seems like these wraiths are quite special, regenerating almost instantaneously after being damaged.

I'd slice one into ribbons, only for it to return to its full form and attack again moments later.

And with their numbers, it feels like I am fighting an endless horde.

Even when I immobilized them with my stakes and rods, they managed to break free alarmingly quickly.

Don't tell me they're immune to staking...

Fuck!

What did my brothers concoct in that bloody canister?

Continuously attacking them is futile, but I could not stop. The moment I stop, they will overwhelm me.

And if they overwhelm me, it won't be long before the already-worn barrier gives out.

And if that happened, the wraiths would be unleashed, wreaking havoc and indiscriminately slaughtering anyone in their path.

I must not let that happen.

Sparks flew as I parried the slashing claws of a wraith with one dagger and thrust the other into its neck.

With a powerful swing, I hurled the creature like a rag doll toward others advancing on me.

The wraiths had grown more aggressive, exploiting the small openings in the absolute defense provided by my tentacles.

A sudden sharp pain shot through me as a wraith, once a beautiful blonde girl, grazed my arm with its claw.

Grimacing, I swiftly drove a black rod through its face, but the burning sensation from the wound made me stagger.

That's when a wraith sunk its teeth into my flesh.

Well. This is a pickle.