The Luminastra estate was a battlefield, the air heavy with smoke and the stench of blood. Forty assassins had been dispatched to ensure no witnesses remained, and no heir survived. We were to erase their bloodline completely.
Five of my comrades were assigned to eliminate the brother and sister. The sister should have been no issue—a delicate noble with no combat training. The brother, on the other hand, was likely fighting back. Still, five of them should have been enough.
When none of them returned, I adjusted course, heading toward the wing of the estate they’d last been seen in. As I approached, a faint explosion reverberated through the walls, urging me to quicken my pace.
Coming upon the source of the sound, I found a pair of massive double doors blown open. The room beyond was a scene of utter carnage. Blood pooled on the floor, mingling with splintered wood, shattered glass, and broken stone. The bodies of my comrades lay strewn about, mangled by the very materials of the room.
At the center of the chaos, slumped lifelessly on the ground, was one of the targets—the heir himself. His clothes were tattered, his chest still oozing blood.
“Bloody hell,” I muttered, stepping cautiously into the room. “The bastard must’ve taken them all down with him as he died. Now, where’s the sister’s bod—”
Before I could finish the thought, a thin arm looped around my neck like a vice. Panic flared as I struggled against the unexpected grip. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a glint of silver—
I jerked and twisted, trying to dislodge my assailant, but I couldn’t stop the blade from finding its mark. The dagger pierced my side, pain searing through me as it was wrenched free.
I stumbled forward, retching in pain, before spinning around to face the attacker. What I saw chilled me to the core.
The delicate sister stood before me, her noble gown splattered with blood and cut down the side near her right let. Her breathing was labored, and her magma-orange eyes burned with an intensity I hadn’t thought possible.
“How…” I gasped, clutching my side as I backed away. “How are you still alive?”
She said nothing, her expression cold and menacing. The dagger in her hand dripped with my blood, and for a fleeting moment, I could have sworn she smiled.
I barely had time to process the shock of seeing her alive before she lunged at me with the dagger. Her movements were clumsy but fueled by raw desperation, and I had no doubt she intended to kill me.
I sidestepped her initial thrust, the blade grazing my arm as I moved. The sharp sting was immediate, but I couldn’t afford to focus on it. She was on me again, her strikes wild yet relentless. I grabbed her wrist, struggling to wrest the dagger from her grasp.
I gritted my teeth and tightened my grip, twisting her wrist to force her to drop the weapon. She let out a cry of pain but didn’t let go. Instead, she slammed her knee into my stomach, knocking the wind out of me.
I staggered back, releasing her wrist. She capitalized on the opening, slashing at me again. I threw up my arm to block, and the blade bit deep into my forearm. Blood poured from the wound, staining the floor beneath us.
I retaliated with a punch to her jaw, sending her stumbling backward. She hit the wall but didn’t fall. Instead, she rebounded, using the momentum to drive herself forward. This time, I was ready.
I sidestepped her charge and grabbed her by the shoulders, slamming her against the wall. The dagger clattered to the ground, and I moved to pin her arms, but she was faster than I anticipated. She ducked under my grip and delivered a savage headbutt that left me reeling.
Stars danced in my vision as I stumbled, and before I could recover, she retrieved the dagger. She didn’t hesitate, slashing at me with reckless abandon. I dodged as best I could, but she managed to slice across my thigh, sending me to one knee.
She raised the dagger for a final strike, and I knew I couldn’t afford to hold back any longer. I waited until she brought the blade down, then lunged forward, catching her wrist mid-swing. With a surge of strength born of desperation, I twisted her arm and forced her to drop the weapon.
The dagger fell to the floor between us, and we both dove for it. My fingers closed around the hilt first, and I turned it against her.
Her eyes widened as the blade pierced her side, but she didn’t scream. Instead, she clutched my arm, her grip tightening as if to anchor herself.
I expected her to falter, to crumble under the pain. Instead, she did the unthinkable. With her free hand, she drove her thumb into my eye, her nails digging into the soft flesh.
A blinding, searing pain shot through me, and I let out a guttural roar, instinctively jerking back. My vision blurred, my depth perception skewed, but I refused to let go of the dagger still embedded in her side.
She twisted her body, forcing the blade deeper into her own flesh but also loosening my grip. The sheer audacity of her movements left me stunned for a fraction of a second—a fraction too long.
She used the moment to wrench herself free, staggering backward and yanking the dagger out of her side. Blood poured from the wound, staining her torn dress even further.
I clutched my injured eye, blinking furiously to clear the tears and blood that threatened to blind me entirely. My other hand reached for my secondary blade at my belt, but before I could draw it, she was on me again.
This time, her movements were less erratic, more calculated. She slashed low, forcing me to jump back, then lunged forward, aiming for my exposed throat. I barely managed to parry the attack, the sound of steel clashing against steel echoing in the room.
Each of her strikes was relentless, and despite her injuries, she fought with the ferocity of someone with nothing left to lose. I could feel my strength waning, the wounds she had inflicted taking their toll.
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Desperation fueled my next move. I kicked out at her wounded side, and she let out a strangled gasp, her guard dropping for a split second. I seized the opportunity to tackle her, pinning her against the blood-streaked floor.
But even then, she didn’t relent. She drove her knee into my stomach, forcing the air from my lungs, and clawed at my face with her free hand. Her nails raked across my cheek, drawing blood, and I growled in frustration.
However, In a split second everything went black.
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I pulled the dagger from the assassin's head, a sickening squelch accompanying the motion. Blood spattered over my face and dress, but I didn’t flinch. I pushed his body off me and staggered to my feet, clutching my side where the wound still throbbed despite my healing attempts.
Before his intrusion, I had been searching for the gun the man who shot Alain had used. His body lay crumpled near the room’s edge, a trail of blood leading to his final resting place. A short ways away, I spotted the revolver glinting in a pool of crimson.
I picked it up and snapped open the chamber, letting the cartridges fall out before I loaded in a fresh six rounds. This will prove useful in clearing out the house.
During all of this fighting, I suddenly felt that I could access more mana than I could before and I kept healing myself throughout the fight to keep up with the bigger and stronger assassins. If I couldn’t heal myself I would’ve had no chance in one-on-one combat.
Finishing searching for useful gear, I made my way out of the room and into the rest of the estate. I wasn’t going to run from this.
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Moving through the house I found myself in the kitchen of the estate. While I was sneaking around it, I stumbled into a few large bags of four…
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Coming out of the kitchen, I entered the dining hall, revolver gripped tightly in my right hand, short sword ready in my left. The room stretched out before me, dominated by a massive dining table that ran through its center, adorned with fine china, silverware, and an elaborate candelabra. The once-pristine setting was now marred by overturned chairs and shattered plates, evidence of the chaos that had swept through the estate.
I stepped cautiously, my heels clicking faintly against the polished floor. My eyes scanned every corner, but the room appeared empty.
Appearances could be deceiving.
I edged along the table, weaving between chairs and keeping my back to the wall. As I reached the midpoint of the room, I caught the faintest shuffle of movement behind me. Spinning on my heel, I raised the revolver—too late.
An assassin lunged from behind a chair, swiping at me with a curved dagger. I barely twisted in time, the blade grazing my side. Pain flared, but I shoved it aside, firing the revolver point-blank. The shot went wide, the recoil jerking my arm.
Before I could fire again, another figure darted out from behind a curtain, aiming a kick at my hand. The revolver flew from my grasp, clattering across the room.
Two of them.
They moved with coordinated precision, one attacking high while the other swept low. I threw myself backward, grabbing a plate from the table and hurling it at the nearest assassin. It shattered against his face, giving me a precious second to grab a steak knife from the table.
The second assassin closed the distance, swinging a short blade at my neck. I parried with the knife, the clash of metal ringing out as I pushed him back. Grabbing a chair with my free hand, I swung it at his legs, knocking him off balance.
The first assassin recovered, blood streaming down his face, and lunged at me again. I sidestepped, smashing a wine bottle over his head. He staggered, but not before slashing at my shoulder, the blade biting deep.
I gritted my teeth, adrenaline keeping the pain at bay as I pivoted and slammed the short sword into his gut. He let out a strangled gasp, collapsing to his knees.
The second assassin snarled, throwing a chair at me to create distance. I ducked, the chair splintering against the wall behind me. He grabbed a candlestick from the table, swinging it like a club.
We circled each other, the table between us. He feinted left, then darted right, vaulting onto the table and rushing me. I raised the short sword, but he kicked a plate at my face, forcing me to flinch.
He tackled me to the ground, pinning my arms. His hands wrapped around my throat, squeezing, and stars danced in my vision. My fingers scrambled against the floor, searching for anything—anything—to fight back.
My hand brushed against the base of the candelabra that had toppled from the table. With a desperate surge of strength, I gripped its metal stem and swung it upward into the assassin’s temple. He grunted in pain, momentarily stunned, giving me the chance to knee him in the stomach and shove him off.
I rolled away and staggered to my feet, gasping for air. The assassin recovered quickly, blood dripping from his temple as his cold, murderous eyes locked onto me. He grabbed a chair and hurled it across the room, forcing me to dive out of the way.
My dive brought me behind the table, and as I glanced up, I noticed the chandelier hanging above us—a massive, ornate structure with dozens of shimmering crystals. An idea struck me as I reached for a discarded knife on the table.
“Come on,” I hissed, taunting him.
The assassin snarled and leaped onto the table, charging straight for me. I feigned retreat, keeping my eyes on the chandelier’s chain and maneuvering so he’d align with it.
With a sudden burst of speed, I pivoted and threw the knife. It wasn’t aimed at him—it was aimed at the rope holding the chandelier in place.
The blade hit true, slicing through the frayed rope. The chandelier groaned as it detached from the ceiling, plunging downward.
The assassin barely had time to look up before the massive structure crashed onto him with a deafening roar, pinning him beneath its weight.
Shards of crystal and debris scattered everywhere, and I shielded my face as the dust settled. The assassin lay trapped, blood seeping from beneath the chandelier, but his hand twitched toward a dagger at his side.
Before he could grab it, I snatched a carving knife from the table and hurled it at him, the blade sinking into his throat. He gurgled, his body going still.
I leaned against the edge of the table, breathing hard, my body screaming in pain. But I couldn’t afford to rest. My wounds were healing themselves, but with each wound healed, I began to feel more and more tired.
The revolver glinted in the dim light, lying amidst the wreckage. I limped over, retrieved it, and began to move back towards the door on the other side of the dining hall. But as I made my way over a large burly man burst through the doors with four other men behind him. “GET HER!”
I immediately turned on my heel and ran as fast as I could toward the kitchen while hearing the cacophony of footsteps behind me. Right as I was about to get out of sight by passing through the doorway, there was a long bang and then I felt an explosive pain spread through my body from my right scapula (Usually referred to as a shoulder blade by average shmoes, but this is Elysia…). With a tumble, I fell into the kitchen and quickly pried myself off of the floor and towards the other exit, while I was running I prepped my dagger.
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The five assassins burst into the kitchen gung-ho and saw Elysia near the doorway using her dagger to slice open a bag of flour. She swung the large bag hard toward the ceiling. Flour exploded in all directions in the kitchen. “What does that girl think this is going to do? Block out vision?!” The assassins kept making their way toward her.
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I saw that the flour had successfully spread like a cloud of thick dust in the kitchen and that the assassin was walking straight into it. I got behind the door out of the room, took out my revolver, and shot into the smoke of flour. Immediately I closed the door and braced for what was to come next.
The bullet flew into the flour, and from the heat around it the particles of flour floating in the air ignited.
BOOM!
Even though I was standing behind the metal door, the explosion was strong enough to have it blown off of its hinges and flung me and the door backward, and as my head hit the floor, I went under.