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The night was calm, with a chilling breeze sweeping through the quiet streets of Goda. A few townfolk lingered outside, chatting idly under the moonlight, their laughter carrying through the empty streets.

Two men stood just outside Betty’s mansion, engrossed in conversation.

“…And then I said, ‘You’re crazy if you think I’d do that!’”

“Haha, that’s funny—”

BOOM!

The sound of an explosion shattered the air, and the front of the mansion was torn open with a violent force. Velle was flung through the hole, crashing to the ground several feet away, tumbling across the pavement. Shards of wood and debris flew in all directions.

The two men froze, eyes wide in shock. Slowly, Velle pushed herself up, shaking off the dust and debris as she glared at them with an intensity that could burn through steel. Her goggles, once neatly perched on her head, were slightly askew but otherwise unharmed.

“Run. Now.” Her voice was cold and commanding.

It took a moment for the men to register what was happening, but once they did, they bolted, screaming as they disappeared into the night.

Meanwhile, Betty appeared unfazed. With an almost casual grace, she descended the mansion’s stairs, her movements smooth and deliberate, as if she were enjoying a stroll. Her butler opened the door on cue, and she stepped outside, her presence framed by the moonlight. Behind her, the remnants of broken furniture floated in the air, pink threads of Mana glowing softly as they connected each item to her outstretched fingers.

Among them—Velle’s daggers.

“The moon’s so bright tonight,” Betty mused, looking up. “It’s as if it knows we need the light.”

Velle pushed herself to her feet, grimacing as she surveyed her injuries—scratches and bruises on her arms and legs. “You planning to renovate the place or something?”

Betty glanced back at the hole she’d made in the wall with a nonchalant shrug. “Oh, well, no matter how this turns out, I’m moving soon anyway. So, why not make a mess of things while I still can?”

To the few bystanders watching the scene unfold, Betty appeared as a psychic—levitating objects with ease, her every movement smooth and effortless.

Velle stood motionless, but her eyes were scanning the air around Betty. She was focusing, trying to sense the connection between Betty and her daggers, which hung suspended in the air, tethered to Betty’s fingers by glowing pink threads—threads visible only to them.

“I can feel that, you know,” Betty smirked. “Want them back? Here, catch!”

Without warning, both of Velle’s daggers shot forward with a deadly speed, streaking past Betty and aimed directly at Velle.

Velle reacted instantly, focusing Mana into her muscles to enhance her speed. She darted to the side, narrowly evading the deadly blades as they sliced through the air where she’d been just moments before.

But Betty wasn’t done. Her fingers twitched, and the daggers changed course, coming back at Velle again, this time with even more precision. The pink threads moved like tendrils, twisting and turning, controlling the daggers with a fluid, almost predatory grace.

Velle dodged again, but as she did, she noticed something—Betty’s control wasn’t perfect. The daggers were not as sharp or as fluid as when Velle wielded them herself. It was clear Betty wasn’t accustomed to controlling weapons of this type.

But that didn’t mean Velle had an advantage. She hadn’t trained much in the past few months, and it showed. Her movements were still rusty, unrefined, and soon the daggers found their mark. A deep gash tore through her arm, then another across her leg.

Velle staggered back, biting her lip to stifle a groan of pain. The daggers hovered in front of her, their blades glinting menacingly as Betty walked toward her, slow and deliberate.

“Theodore told me your weapons are more dangerous than you are in a fight,” Betty remarked, almost thoughtfully, as she extended her hands, pulling more objects toward her with the same eerie precision. “I guess he was right.”

Breathing heavily, Velle struggled to get back on her feet. Her body screamed in protest, but she steeled herself, ignoring the fresh wounds. She lowered the goggles over her eyes, prepared to push through the pain.

Betty chuckled, her voice dripping with amusement. “I didn’t say anything about it before, but those goggles… they look ridiculous on you.”

“Thanks for the feedback.” Velle replied, her voice laced with determination as she launched herself toward Betty, her enhanced speed making her a blur in the moonlight.

Betty’s eyes widened in surprise, not expecting such speed after their previous exchange. The sudden onslaught made it clear that Velle had been holding back. Instinctively, Betty swung her arm, sending nearby objects flying between her and Velle to block her advance.

But Velle had anticipated this. With the clarity from her goggles and the precision they offered, she darted between the objects effortlessly. The glowing pink threads controlling the tableware were a threat, but most of them were harmless—a few forks, spoons, and small knives. The rest, she could easily deflect with her enhanced skin and agility.

She didn’t dodge everything, though. Some of the projectiles pierced her skin, but she barely flinched. With one last leap, she slammed into Betty, tackling her to the ground with enough force to crack the stone beneath them.

Betty gasped, her concentration faltering as the glowing pink threads that controlled her floating objects began to fade, causing them to drop to the ground with a clatter.

“Miss Betty!” The butler’s panicked voice called out from the entrance of the mansion.

Betty groaned, looking up at Velle, her face flushed with a mix of surprise and... amusement? A smile spread across her lips, despite the pain. “You... hurt me?!”

Velle was taken aback. She paused, narrowing her eyes, unsure of how to react to Betty’s odd response. She remained silent, though, keeping her gaze fixed on Betty. Her daggers, freed from Betty’s control, floated back to her, now in her command.

Betty slowly stood up, summoning the pink threads again. She reattached them to the objects and pulled them up from the ground, her expression one of curious delight. “I’ve never been hurt before, you know? It’s... actually not that bad!”

Her words were oddly light-hearted as she launched the objects at Velle again, this time more violently and erratically. Velle was forced to dodge back, grabbing her daggers and creating some distance between them.

As long as her daggers weren’t controlled by Betty’s strings, Velle knew she had the upper hand. But just as she hurled one of the daggers toward Betty, something went wrong. The dagger refused to respond, and before she could react, it shot back at her. Velle barely managed to block it with the second dagger in her hand, the force of the collision sending a jolt through her arm.

Frustration flared within her. What just happened?

Then she saw it: a faint, almost imperceptible string attached to her dagger. Betty was using Helena’s powers in ways Velle hadn’t anticipated.

Betty laughed aloud, her voice rich with amusement. “Ahahaha! You think you can see all of my strings? Theodore’s the one who taught me this trick, actually…”

The barrels sitting near a closed shop suddenly began to float, but Velle couldn’t see any threads. There were no pink strings visible, no glow to alert her. Betty continued with a wicked smile, “As long as I keep the Mana input low, the strings become invisible to anyone but me.”

Before Velle could process the new threat, Betty launched another wave of attacks—this time using larger objects from the nearby buildings. The objects came at Velle like projectiles, and Betty steadily advanced, making sure to keep her eyes fixed on her target.

Velle clicked her tongue in frustration. This was bad. Now she had no idea when one of her daggers might get caught in one of Betty’s invisible strings. She couldn’t just keep her daggers enhanced—Betty would use them against her. And as much as she wanted to take the offensive, the overwhelming barrage of objects was forcing her onto the defensive.

She danced between the incoming attacks, dodging as best she could, but soon she found herself surrounded. The objects kept coming, relentless and unpredictable, slamming into her from all angles. The force of each hit took its toll, wearing her down.

Though the enhancement didn’t strain her muscles the way it would with a mana weapon, maintaining the state of her body’s physical prowess wasn’t effortless. She couldn’t keep dodging forever. Each time she deflected an object or dodged a blow, her muscles screamed for rest, and her focus wavered.

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The frustration in Velle’s chest grew. She had to think of something, or she’d be worn down completely. I can’t let her keep controlling everything around us. I can’t... The thought of it gnawed at her, feeding the anger that was slowly building inside. The battle wasn’t just with Betty. It was with her own limitations, and the more she fought, the more she realized she had to push herself beyond what she thought she was capable of.

She couldn’t afford to lose control. Not now.

But just as she was searching for a way out, a hard flower vase came crashing into Velle’s head, knocking her off balance. The impact rang through her skull, and for a moment, everything went blurry. Her thoughts scattered, the pain a ringing echo in her mind.

Through the dizziness, her eyes locked onto Betty, who was grinning widely. The look on her face wasn’t just satisfaction—it was pure, unadulterated delight. She was enjoying watching Velle falter. No, more than that. Betty was loving it.

That was the moment Velle had been waiting for.

In the midst of her fall, with her body struggling to regain control, she summoned every ounce of strength and hurled her dagger with all her enhanced might. The blade shot through the air, its edge cutting deeply into Betty’s right arm, before embedding itself into the stone wall surrounding the mansion.

Betty staggered back with a sharp gasp, her expression twisted in shock and pain. Her hand flew to her wounded arm, but she couldn’t hold back a wide grin from spreading across her face as she felt the deep cut. The strings she controlled vanished, and the levitating objects fell to the ground with a deafening clatter.

“O-ow... ow...” Betty muttered, the words a strange mix of surprise and something else, something darker. She cradled her arm in her shaking hands, her left hand trembling as it touched the bleeding wound. It was her first time seeing her own blood.

Velle stayed on the ground, struggling to regain her footing. Her head still throbbed from the impact, but her eyes never left Betty. She had struck her—not a fatal blow, but considering Betty had never been in a real fight before, it should have shaken her. It should have scared her.

But instead, Betty’s eyes gleamed brighter, her cheeks flushed with a feverish delight. She looked at the blood, at her own injury, and her grin only widened.

“It felt so goooood!!” Betty shrieked, her laughter ringing out, echoing down the empty street. The sound sent a chill down Velle’s spine, and her heart skipped a beat. The bystanders, who had been watching from the edges, flinched at the manic energy radiating from Betty.

“M-Miss Betty?” Even the butler seemed unsettled, his voice trailing off as he took a cautious step back.

Velle blinked, her jaw tightening in confusion. She had been expecting anger, fear, or even frustration from Betty—but this? This was something else. Betty’s delight was unnerving.

Wait... don’t tell me...

Her thoughts hit her with the force of a punch. Is she... a masochist?

Betty, oblivious to Velle’s internal realization, threw her head back and laughed again, a wild, almost unhinged sound. “It felt so good, Velle!” she yelled, her voice high-pitched with exhilaration. “I didn’t know fighting could be this thrilling! Those hunters were nothing compared to us, but this? This is amazing!”

Velle’s stomach twisted. This is bad. She’s not just twisted—she’s... unstable.

Betty extended her arms outward, fingers splayed wide. With a manic flourish, she released several pink glowing threads from her fingertips, each one shooting out toward the bystanders like invisible whips. They didn’t scream—they couldn’t. The threads were invisible to anyone but Betty and Velle.

But the people who were struck by the strings didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late. Their bodies jerked involuntarily, moving of their own accord.

“W-what the...?“ one man gasped, his eyes wide with fear as his body was forced to move.

“My... my body’s moving on its own! Whoa!” someone else shouted, their voice full of panic.

Then the screams started. The panic spread like wildfire as those caught in Betty’s invisible web were pulled into a frenzied, forced march toward Velle.

“Come on, get up! I’m not done yet! You haven’t seen everything I’ve got!” Betty taunted, her voice dripping with mad delight. She waved her hands again, controlling the crowd as they charged toward Velle.

Velle’s eyes widened. This was no longer just about Betty and her daggers. Now, she was fighting the very people she was trying to protect.

She gritted her teeth, her mind racing. She had to think fast, but every move she made was countered by Betty’s invisible threads. The crowd was coming at her, and she could barely keep up with the onslaught of bodies.

She struggled to push herself to her feet, but before she could even react, one of the people in the crowd reached her and struck her across the face. The force of the blow sent her reeling backward. Another punch landed, then another. Each hit came faster than she could block.

She didn’t retaliate. She didn’t fight back. She only focused on using her enhanced strength to endure, to survive, to outlast the assault.

But it was a losing battle.

The blows kept coming, relentless, and Velle’s body—no matter how enhanced—was starting to feel the toll. She tried to enhance herself further, but it wasn’t enough to break free from the frenzy. She could barely see straight, the dizziness from the vase impact still lingering.

In the background, Betty laughed maniacally, her amusement growing with every hit Velle took. Her right shoulder—still aching from the earlier blow—didn’t seem to faze her. She was too intoxicated by the sight of Velle’s struggle, too addicted to the thrill of hurting someone. She didn’t even care about the blood on her arm anymore. All that mattered was this rush, this power she had over others.

It was sickening.

The forced assault abruptly came to a halt. The crowd—once driven to violence—now stood around Velle’s battered form, wide-eyed and horrified at what they had just done. The screams and gasps filled the air as they realized the extent of their actions.

Betty, her grin still stretching across her face, stepped forward, her presence cutting through the air like a knife. She waved her hand lazily, parting the crowd to make way for her. She approached Velle, who lay on the ground, bloodied and bruised, her body barely able to move. But her eyes—those sharp, defiant eyes—still glimmered with life despite the pain.

“Did it feel good for you too?” Betty taunted, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. “You should smile a bit, you know?”

Velle could barely bring herself to lift her head, let alone smile. Her body ached with every breath, every movement. But her eyes stayed locked on Betty. She wasn’t defeated—not yet.

Betty’s smile faltered at Velle’s lack of reaction. The girl wasn’t broken enough for her taste. But then, an idea seemed to cross her mind. Her grin returned, wider than before.

“Oh, wait, I know!” Betty exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with twisted glee. She pointed her finger at Velle’s chest, and with a flick of her wrist, a glowing pink thread shot out and pierced through Velle’s heart.

Velle’s breath caught in her throat as the foreign sensation of someone else’s Mana flooded into her body. It was like a cold, oppressive weight pushing down on her. She had always been in control of her own Mana, but this—this was something else. Something terrifying.

She tried to enhance her body, tried to break free, but it was useless. The thread tightened, and her body rose against her will. She felt every jolt of movement, every pang of pain, but could do nothing to stop it. She was a puppet, her strings pulled by Betty’s will.

Betty’s voice came again, low and gleeful. “I could just control you directly, right?” she said, as if this was all a game.

Velle’s fingers twitched, and she felt her hand reaching out, grabbing the dagger Betty had controlled earlier. Slowly, as if some invisible force was guiding her, Velle raised the blade to her throat.

“S-stop it, Betty!” someone in the crowd yelled, his voice shaky with fear. “What happened to you? You were always so polite, so gentle!”

Betty turned to him with a look of disgust. “Shut up,” she snapped, her voice cold and sharp. In an instant, the man fell silent, his expression going blank as Betty’s Mana strings tapped into his consciousness. He stood there, motionless, like a marionette on a string.

The crowd’s fear was palpable, but Betty didn’t care. Her attention was on the scene before her, savoring every moment of the twisted thrill. “You know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” she said, her tone dreamy, as if relishing the act itself. “Toys and stuffed animals don’t even come close to something like this. This—”

But she never finished her sentence.

Suddenly, with a violent crash, Velle fell back onto the ground, her dagger slipping from her hand and bouncing off the stone streets. The crowd gasped in confusion.

“Aw, look at what you’ve done,” Betty complained, pouting like a spoiled child. “I lost focus on her because of you!”

She snapped her fingers, shooting another glowing string toward Velle, trying to pull her back up. But when the thread connected, something was wrong.

Betty’s brow furrowed as she tugged again, but this time, the string didn’t move Velle. “What the…?” she muttered, staring in disbelief.

It wasn’t just that Velle wasn’t moving. Betty could feel it now—the subtle, draining sensation she hadn’t noticed before. Her strength was ebbing away, slipping through her fingers like sand.

“My body…” someone in the crowd murmured, looking down at their own hands in shock. “I can control it again!”

One by one, others began to regain control over their own bodies, shaking their heads in confusion as they snapped out of the trance. Some even started backing away, fear creeping into their expressions.

“What is this?” Betty hissed, her voice rising in panic. She looked around, eyes wild, but the scene around her was changing. The crowd was no longer under her control. The strings that once connected them to her faded, one by one, slipping away from her grasp.

Her gaze flicked down to her own hands, trembling now as she saw something she hadn’t noticed before: a faint orange line, stretching across her midsection and extending into the distance. Her eyes widened in realization.

This is—

Before she could finish the thought, her body buckled. Her legs gave out beneath her, and she collapsed onto the ground, her strength completely drained. She tried to push herself up, but the effort was futile. Her arms shook as they barely supported her weight.

Then, through the growing panic and confusion, a figure stepped into her line of sight. Velle. She was standing, bloodied and broken, but still standing.

Betty’s breath caught in her throat as her eyes locked on Velle. And then she saw it—on Velle’s body, connected to her own by that same faint orange line, was the source of her own dwindling strength.

“You…” Betty’s voice cracked, her words barely a whisper. “What did you do?!”

Velle didn’t respond. She simply stood there, watching Betty with quiet determination. The last of the crowd had scattered, leaving the two of them alone in the eerie silence of the deserted street.

Betty’s mind spun in confusion as she struggled to comprehend the situation. According to Theodore, Velle’s power should have been nothing more than a simple enhancement—boosting herself and those around her, harmless as long as Velle was unarmed and alone. But this—this was something entirely different. The line connecting their bodies, the strange drain on her strength, it wasn’t enhancement. It was the exact opposite of what Delphine’s power should have done.

Could it be?

Before Betty could process more of the shocking realization, she felt a cold, sharp pressure under her chin. Velle’s dagger was lifting her head, forcing her to meet those cold, steely eyes. Despite the pain and exhaustion, Velle was still standing, her presence unwavering, her gaze as sharp as ever.

“Welcome to the team,” Velle’s voice cut through the silence, a quiet declaration that signaled the end of the fight. Her battered body, her broken form—none of it mattered in that moment. She was victorious, and Betty knew it.

For a moment, Betty just stared up at her. Her eyes were wide, but there was no anger, no frustration. Instead, there was something deeper, something far more dangerous. Admiration.

No—it was love.

The way Velle stood over her, the cold, calculating way she lifted Betty’s chin with the dagger—the weapon that had killed monsters, that had torn through enemies. And those eyes, so sharp, so unrelenting, gazing down at her from behind the goggles. It wasn’t just humiliation that washed over Betty; it was pleasure.

No one had ever brought her to this state of defeat before. She had been untouchable, an untamed force of nature, and now, for the first time, she was completely helpless, at the mercy of someone else.

And that, she realized with a shiver, thrilled her to her core.

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