15 | A Bullet That Never Miss
INSIDE THE ARAMDALE’S GRAND mansion, Isabella fought against a group of rebels alongside civil guards. But she was getting exhausted, sweating profusely, losing a grip on her blade.
She and the guards had also run out of bullets a long time ago, but thankfully, so did the rebels.
A young man with wild hair and a manic grin then pointed his finger at her and cast a bolt of aether.
“Lady Isabella!” Oscar, one of the guards, protected her from the bolt which slammed into his chest, sending him flying across the room. He landed in a heap – his body smoking.
“Oscar!” Isabella called out and tried to check on him when Clara, another member of the guards, pulled her back.
“He’s dead,” Clara said and raised her hands. The air around her crackled with aether. Then she hurled a ball of aether toward the rebel with a manic grin.
The rebel laughed and dodged, but a group of rebels were hit instead, knocked off their feet as the ball exploded in a shower of sparks.
“James, take Lady Isabella away,” said Clara as she parried a rebel’s sword before stabbing her blade into the rebel’s chest, killing him instantly.
James nodded his head.
But then, a bald man with tattoos summoned a swarm of ghostly insects that descended upon Clara, James, Isabella, and the rest of the guards. The insects bit and stung, causing the guards to cry in pain and confusion. “No one’s going anywhere,” said the bald man.
Clara clicked her tongue before engaging the bald man in a duel of swords.
But Isabella saw a tall woman with a scar across her cheek, who appeared from behind Clara and sliced her blade across Clara’s stomach.
“Clara!” Isabella yelled as she saw her and the guards around her die. But she kept fighting and lunged at the tall, scarred woman in vengeance for her fallen friend.
The tall woman was too slow to parry, so Isabella drove her sword into her chest. Blood sprayed across the floor as both of them collapsed.
When more guards showed up, a man with a hooked nose leapt onto a table and kicked a chandelier, sending it crashing down onto the group. They scattered, but the hooked nose man awaited them, his twin blades flashing in the candlelight. He danced among them, cutting down anyone who came too close.
Meanwhile, a young woman with a shock of bright green hair darted through the hall, her knives glinting. She moved behind a guard and slit his throat.
James stumbled into her path, and she grabbed his arm and flipped him over her shoulder, sending him crashing to the ground before stabbing his chest.
Finally, it was only Isabella who remained. The rebels gathered around her, their weapons at the ready.
The man with a manic grin spoke first. "Where is he?" he demanded. He must be the leader. A second realmer.
Isabella coughed up blood. "Who?"
"Don't play games with me," the man said. "Your son. Cassius Aramdale."
Isabella snarled and laughed. "Fuck off."
The man shrugged. "Suit yourself." He then raised his blade to behead Isabella, when suddenly, he let out a choking gasp before falling dead on the floor.
He was shot dead right in his head.
Soon, the sound of another bullet rang, and the bald man also died.
The man with a hooked nose moved like a blur toward the mansion’s entrance to escape, but even he soon fell dead – his head blown by a bullet.
Isabella looked toward the source of the sound and saw a young man.
He wore an impeccably tailored suit, the rich fabric hugging his lean frame. But there was something about him that sent shivers down her spine.
The young man's eyes flickered toward her, and she could see a glint of danger. His lips quirked into a light smile, and she quickly averted her gaze, feeling as if she'd been caught in the crosshairs of a predator.
But the young man soon moved his lips and looked away, “Trying to escape?”
Then he shot his revolver, shooting at the rebel with bright green hair from earlier, who tried to escape. He did not miss, and the rebel died. Isabella was confused. How could he not miss?
The young man then looked at the other rebels around him, and they gave him a wide berth as if they knew he was someone to be feared. He shot his revolver at one of the rebels, but no bullet came out.
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“I’m out? I should still have one more bullet,” said the young man as he flipped open the chamber of his revolver. “Oh, it misfired.” With that, the young man tossed aside his weapon before unsheathing his sword.
“Kill him!” the rebels, around a dozen remaining, yelled and charged him from all directions.
He only smiled and moved with effortless grace. His movements were fluid and precise as he blocked and parried the rebels' attacks.
He moved with a speed and agility that seemed almost supernatural, dodging and weaving between their blows with ease. While first and second realmers were physically stronger and more agile compared to non-sorcerers, the young man's abilities were above theirs. As if he was a...
'High Sorcerer? But I've never seen him before,' thought Isabella. Not even martial artists of the first and second realms could move with such precision – even with a temporary body enhancement spell. Only High Sorcerers with Tier III buff spells could do that.
As the young man fought, his face remained calm and composed, his blue eyes focused on the task at hand. He didn't speak, didn't show any emotion other than a quiet confidence that was also so loud.
Despite the odds against him, the young man never seemed in danger. His sword flashed as its razor-sharp edge sliced through the air with deadly accuracy, spraying blood everywhere. The rebels fell one by one, their weapons clattering to the ground.
In the end, the young man stood alone, his sword still held easily in his hand, surrounded by corpses. No blood stained his suit.
For a moment, he stood there, then he sheathed his sword and walked toward Isabella. His steps were light and unhurried. It was as if the fight had never happened – as if he hadn't just defeated a group of armed rebels and several sorcerers all by himself.
“Who are you?” asked Isabella as she tried to get back up.
⁂
Theodore's heart was pounding in his chest as he sprinted through the crowded, chaotic streets, rushing back to his estate. Behind him were civil guards. He'd already given orders and dispatched his forces to contain the rebel forces in the city.
Even Lucas was busy somewhere.
Thus, he needed to return to his estate, for the thought of his wife and son in danger was too much to bear.
People were running in every direction, and buildings were burning in the distance. But he didn't stop, his feet moving faster and faster as he pushed himself to keep going.
Every second felt like an eternity, the fear and uncertainty gnawing at his gut. But he refused to let it slow him down. He had to go back, no matter what.
“Cassius… Isabella… Please be safe,” he muttered.
Turning a corner, he saw a group of rebels ahead, shouting as they fought a group of civil guards. He didn't slow down. Instead, he ran straight toward them and drew his sword.
The men turned to face him, their faces twisted in anger and hatred. But Theodore didn't flinch as he dodged a bolt of aether.
He pushed through them and easily beheaded them all, including a pair of Sorcerers.
Theodore ran on and finally saw the estate. There were many corpses outside, of both rebels and civil guards.
His heart sank upon realizing he might have already been too late. Then, he commanded guards, “Find any survivors. And you two, come with me.”
Upon entering the mansion, he saw more corpses, but relief flooded him when he saw his wife huddled in a corner. Isabella looked weak and wounded but alive and unharmed.
A young man was standing over her, and when he used Aether Sense, he saw the young man emanate an aura of white.
'A disguise. It’s not his real appearance,' thought Theodore. “Who are you? Get away from her.”
The young man glanced at him, lifting an eyebrow. “You must be the Governor General.”
He saw Isabella’s eyes light up when she saw him.
“Theo! You’re okay!” said Isabella and tried to stand up. But she could not. Then she looked at the young man and said, “It’s okay. He saved me.”
Theodore looked at the young man in confusion before deactivating his Aether Sense. He did not sense a soul core. But it is easy for any sorcerers to hide their soul cores.
"Isa, I'm glad you're okay too," he muttered when something else dawned on him. "Wait. Where's Cassius?"
"He's somewhere safe," said the young man.
Theodore eyed him suspiciously. “Forgive me, might I ask who you might be? That way, I could thank you properly,” asked Theodore, but he did not let his guard down.
“Vincent De Luca. A pleasure, Your Excellency,” said the young man and offered Theodore a light bow.
⁂
Vincent kept a calm facade, despite being alarmed.
'Can he see the real me?' he thought as he looked at Theodore. He recalled that Grand Sorcerers could see through disguises, including his magical artifact.
“A pleasure, Vincent. As you may know, the city is in chaos. Would you care to tell me of your affiliation?” asked Theodore after commanding his guards to search the mansion for lurkers.
“I'm with the Aetheric International Council,” said Vincent. For some reason, the excuse escaped his lips in a rush to find a reliable excuse. If he spoke confidently, his lie would also be more effective. “Lucas can verify my identity.”
But he did not expect to see such a reaction from Theodore.
“Forgive my discourtesy, Your Excellency!” said Theodore as he cast a fist over his chest and offered Vincent a bow.
'Wait… What?' Vincent thought. 'Oh no. Did I mess up?'