Blood gushed out like water from a fountain. Sounds of gurgling were all the man managed as he grasped his neck in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. His sabre fell and his lifeless body followed soon after.

With a bayonet like dagger in each hand, the woman responsible stood staring at the assassins, indifferent and without remorse. Her cold expression and the contours of her face combined with her lithe figure exuded great charm. Her long black hair and clear blue eyes only added to her beauty.

There was no mourning for the Crusader. To the hitmen, their comrade’s death signified the strength of their newest opponent. A single glance was all it took. They knew they were outmatched against this picturesque beauty before them; their mission now doomed to failure.

Gaze shifting, the woman looked at Max, her indifference immediately replaced by a surge of indescribable warmth. While appearing to have taken a single step forward, she instantly covered a distance of tens of meters to arrive by Max’s side, her eyes flickering with tears as she smiled and gently caressed his face.

A sudden sense of security gripped Max’s heart, giving him a moment of clarity. His eyes widened in surprise as he was jolted awake. His mouth repeatedly opened and closed, unable to voice his words. That expression. That gentle smile. He could recognize it all too well. That face that belonged to his mother.

A day hadn’t gone by when he didn’t yearn to see her again.

Since the time of his birth, Max’s mother had remained hospitalized, the continued tests and examinations failing to explain her deteriorating health. Eventually, complications during Max’s birth were decided as the reasons behind her condition. The prevalent hypothesis was never confirmed, but the doctors continued to work in an attempt to ease her pain and postpone the inevitable

The constant smile on his mother’s face and the false hope given by the sympathetic only brought Max greater grief on the seemingly unanticipated day. On that fateful night, for the first time, sorrow flooded that sickly pale face. The last of her breaths were spent concerned about Max’s well being and reminiscing about her time with his father, her grief engraving itself in Max’s heart. Lacking an outlet for his anger, the little child from back had directed the rage towards his father - blaming the missing man for the misfortune dealt to them.

‘This can’t be her.’ He thought, trying to focus on the woman. Minute as they were, there were still differences between the woman before him and the one he knew as his mother. This dissimilitude helped barely keep his feelings in check.

Not missing out on this once in a lifetime opportunity, the leader silently began to recite another spell, the woman’s distraction becoming the perfect opportunity. Meanwhile, bearing similar thoughts, the only hidden assassin jumped from a tree, knife in hand.

The woman didn’t seem to care. Her attention on Max, she felt her fury grow as he continued to assess the extent of his injuries.

Panic set in as Max noticed the attempt to skewer them both, his attempt to warn his benefactor cut off, however, by a silent arrow. It quietly lodged itself in the man’s head, leaving him dead and freefalling.

“Damn it! Where is the archer?!” The mage frowned, ready with a diversion spell. It was time to cut losses and withdraw.

Coldly watching the group, a woman stood at a distance, painting an odd picture. Adorned in a maid’s outfit, she hid from plain sight, the bow in her arms stretched taut, ready to fire at a moment’s notice. Apparent signs of a spell’s activation triggered her movement. Arrows shot forth with speeds surpassing bullets. Cutting through the air, they went on to tear through their target.

Head separated from body as the mage felt his consciousness fade. An instant and painless death – the maid’s version of mercy for the assassins.

Though now dead, the mage was still a Master. His spell actuated, its might released. The ground beneath Max and the woman crumbled and vanished. Sensing the changes, the woman frowned and hurriedly lifted Max. She seemed to teleport, covering tens of meters before gently placing Max against a tree trunk.

Max let out a groan, the sudden movement putting a strain on his ribs. His eyes, however, widened with shock as he witnessed the ground split and swallow the recently deceased assassin.

Having found a target, the spell activated in its entirety and sealed the ground shut. A muffled explosion sounded out. Numerous spikes emerged from the earth, all of them dyed red.

Max felt a chill run down his spine. He thankfully glanced at the woman, breathing a sigh of relief. Death by impalement. Being able to avoid such a horrifying fate was a blessing in its own right.

“Rest...” The woman resembling his mother said, “We will take care of them.” With her back to Max, the woman’s expression immediately hardened. There was no bloodlust, no hatred, no anger, just annoyance. But that simple frown was enough to leave the weak-hearted among the group shivering in fear. Though unafraid of death, none of these men wished for the afterlife. Dying for the sake of a successful mission was the only acceptable form of death to them.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

Victor’s face paled as he remembered an old story. Years had passed since the last war between the Empire and the Dominion. During the gruesome battle, two women had distinguished themselves - one a close combat expert who used knives, the other a bow and arrow to strike enemies from a distance. Over time, their fame earned them monikers, names that were a reflection of their ability. The knife specialist, constantly bathed in her enemy's blood, became known as the crimson fairy. The other, having never wasted an arrow, was soon called as the shadow sniper.

Fighting together, the two women were inseparable, each always backing the other. But after the flames of war were quelled, the Walker family gained a new Duchess. Under her new title, the crimson fairy became the talk of the town, but the shadow sniper, true to her name, mysteriously disappeared. Only much later did people learn the truth, that the inconspicuous maid constantly serving by the Duchess’s side was the Empire’s feared archer.

“Dis - Disperse!!” Victor yelled before dashing for the forest. “It’s Sarah Walker and Kate Bennet!”

Even before the Walker household’s tragedy, the Duchess had seldom interacted with people. These past eight years had transformed her into even more of a recluse. It was no wonder that the assassins couldn’t instantly recognize her.

The loud warning jolted the men into action. Decisively giving up on their mission, they began a speedy retreat towards the forest. Each headed for a different direction, hoping to maximize the chances of survival.

Sarah snorted, her grip tightening over her daggers. “Kate, take care of the ones on your side.”

Acknowledging the command, Kate emerged from the bushes with a slight smile. Her hand on the quiver, she smoothly drew her bow and began to shoot.

Flabbergasted, Max silently watched as the women wordlessly reaped lives. His pride wounded, he bowed his head in defeat, watching the Duchess move at seemingly impossible speeds. Sarah was exceedingly fast, leaving only afterimages as she moved from one kill to the next - a single strike to the throat to snuff out the enemy’s life.

Together with Kate, in mere seconds, Sarah culled the group down to their last. The one that remained was lying pinned to the ground with an arrow in each leg. Sarah stood over him, her foot on his chest. She ordered, “Talk!”

Out of options, the man grit his teeth and resolved himself. Death made itself known in the form of poison in his mouth. Writhing in pain, froth on his lips, he died under the Duchess’s foot.

Max sighed, reminded again of the sort of world he had been summoned to. His thoughts wandered as he stared at the Duchess. The uncanny resemblance continued to throw him off. Slowly standing up, a hand over his chest, he winced as the pain brought him back to his senses.

Daggers sheathed, Sarah pensively looked at Max. Now that the danger had passed, Sarah’s state of mind once again edged towards discomposure. Her legs turned to lead while her hands trembled. Fear crept into her palpitating and excited heart as she nervously began to approach Max.

Eight years ago, the news of her missing and presumably dead son had left Sarah distraught. As the years passed, she slowly began to come to terms with the fact, giving up on the any slivers of hope. However, news of Max’s existence had served to reignite those sparks.

“Duchess Walker and, uh, Miss Bennet, thank you for your help. For saving my life.” Max awkwardly said, the estranged manner of his address causing Sarah to freeze.

Sighing, Kate wondered if she had done the right thing. She remembered how her judicious explanations of her findings, at the castle, had birthed a scintillating light in Sarah’s usually deadpan eyes. Suddenly, she felt regret for granting her friend a false sense of hope. Perhaps she was wrong. Perhaps Max wasn’t the key to breaking her best friend’s shackles of depression.

Unable to handle any more of the awkwardness, Kate wryly smiled and gently nudged the Duchess. ‘He has amnesia.’ Sarah quickly recollected herself, remembering what she had heard. ‘Of course it’s natural for him to not remember me.’ She thought.

Heart racing, she tried to rid herself of the discomfort. The inexplicable parental love she had felt from the moment she had laid eyes on Max couldn’t be wrong. That’s what she told herself, refusing to believe that the boy before her was simply a look-alike.

Despite her convictions, Sarah still felt anxious. Eight years was a long time. She was afraid that a direct approach would simply frighten Max away. Trembling, she hesitantly responded to Max, being careful with her words. “The - There’s no need for thanks. How – How’s your condition?”

“Uh, yes, not too bad.” Max stiffly answered. He was still in terrible shape, but that was still better than being left for dead. He failed to notice that Sarah’s nervousness had already long surpassed his own.

“Oh... I - I see.”

Irked by their timidity, Kate’s brows finally twitched. With a refreshing smile, she broke the prevailing silence and asked, “Max, the Duchess would like to invite you to the Walker castle. Are you willing?”

Sarah's eyes flickered with momentary panic. She secretly complained, glaring at her friend in an admonishing manner. What are you doing? How can you ask that so abruptly? What if he refuses?

Kate rolled her eyes in response. I couldn't bear to watch you two any longer. Besides, wasn’t the purpose of setting out to invite him back? What's with all the dallying?

Max hesitated at the sudden invitation. He was injured and at his limits. Though thankful to the Duchess and her maid, he was in no mood to accompany her. Courtesy dictated that he accept the proposal, but he still wanted to find a way to decline.

“Don’t be so quick to decide.” Kate tried to convince him. “There’s the matter of the assassination and your injury. We can quickly get you treated at the castle and then you can tell us more about what happened. Impersonating a member of a Duke’s house is a serious offence. We have every intention of getting to the bottom of this. So, your account of the events would be of great assistance to our inquiry.”

Max nodded, unable to refute Kate’s reasoning. Glancing at the fidgety Duchess, he agreed. “Alright then, I’ll do what I can to help.”

Max had verbal proof of the identity of the man behind this attack. But he had a strong feeling that taking the Minister’s name would do more harm than good. Remaining silent, he wondered what he could do, oblivious to Kate’s real motives.

Kate’s smile widened at his response. Winking at the Duchess, she took note of their carriage approaching from a distance. “Wonderful!” She laughed. “Then we can set off immediately.”