The older man who had been pinning Miranda to the ground suddenly collapsed to the side, his body going completely limp.

Nyx, with his customary elegance, descended gracefully onto the fallen man.

Miranda, initially perplexed by the abrupt change in her attacker’s behavior, quickly regained her composure as her instincts took over. The younger man, who had been holding onto her calves, was too shocked by his accomplice’s sudden fall to notice Miranda flexing her body backward.

With precise, fluid movements, she reached behind herself and disoriented him by clapping her hands against his ears. The younger man grunted, the sudden pain forcing him to release his grip on her and clutch at his ears.

Not wasting a moment, Miranda swiftly regained her footing. She had a single-minded focus as she delivered a swift and brutal kick to the man's groin. Nyx mused ''Well, she definitely has a favorite zone… quite fitting for the situation.''

Though still in pain from the bite she had inflicted on her tongue earlier, she remained fiercely concentrated on her task. Nyx observed her every movement, a look of subtle admiration in his eyes.

He knew that had he not intervened, Miranda would have continued to do whatever was necessary, even going as far as to bite off her tongue completely, to maintain her dignity in the dire circumstances she found herself in. After all, many would say that death was preferable to living with this experience.

Meanwhile, the older man whom Nyx had incapacitated was fading quickly. His breath was growing shallower by the second, the single talon strike from Nyx having left him horribly disfigured.

The man was beyond recognition, almost flayed across the length of his face, his life slipping away with each passing moment.

Miranda, her fury not yet abated, grabbed the Icklium bar that had been used to strike her earlier. Her grip on the metal was tight as she lunged at the younger attacker with deadly intent.

But just before she could bring the bar down on him, her gaze was drawn to the older man’s prone form. Her eyes locked onto the strange crow, who stared back at her with an eerie atmosphere. For a split second, it seemed as if the crow let out a deep, human-like chuckle.

Miranda quickly shook off the odd sensation. She recognized that the crow, having aided her in this violent struggle, posed no threat for the time being.

The momentary distraction faded, and she redirected her attention to the younger man, who was still reeling from the kick to his groin. Her eyes were filled with a fierce determination and disgust as she raised the bar high above her head, ready to deliver a crescendo of blows.

Nyx, still watching the scene unfold, felt a slight twinge of embarrassment at the sound he had made… and in his true form no less.

Despite this, he couldn't help but feel a surge of savage satisfaction as he watched Miranda take control of the situation. He thought to himself, "Such a shame I’ll need to keep this quick. They take priority... but perhaps I’ll find some time for this lovely specimen."

Miranda’s dress, now torn and disheveled from the struggle, only seemed to enhance her allure. The fabric clung to her figure, accentuating her curves even in the midst of the violent confrontation. Her high cheekbones were flushed with exertion and anger as she swung the Icklium bar down on the younger man’s head with all the strength she could muster. The sound of metal meeting bone reverberated through the boutique, a sickening crack that echoed off the walls.

The young man's eyes rolled back into his head as he crumpled to the floor, his body collapsing in a heap near his fallen accomplice.

Miranda stood over the two men for a moment, her mighty chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Her grip on the bar was tight, her knuckles white as she stared down at the men who had dared to attack her.

Nyx hopped closer to Miranda, his dark eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and something darker. He could see the fire in her eyes, the fierce resolve that had driven her to fight back with such ferocity. It was a quality he admired, one that drew him to her even more. Despite the violence of the situation, there was something undeniably captivating about the way she moved, the way she held herself even in the face of danger.

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Miranda didn’t look at Nyx as he approached. Her focus was still on the men at her feet, her breath coming in heavy, ragged gasps.

She knew she had already finished this, but she had to make sure her tab with these two barbarians was clean. Without hesitation, she raised the bar once more, her muscles tensing as she prepared to strike once more to deliver some additional tenderizing.

Nyx observed with keen interest, his gaze never leaving her as she delivered blow after blow to the men at her feet.

He could see the raw power in her movements, the controlled fury that fueled each strike. It was a sight to behold, one that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from. The scene was both brutal and mesmerizing, a perfect display of strength and cruelty.

As Miranda stood over the lifeless bodies, her passionate breath gradually steadied. The initial rush of adrenaline began to fade, leaving her with a cold, hard resolve. She had done what needed to be done, and there was no room for regret. These men had tried to do something unforgivable to her, to steal away something precious, and she had fought back with everything she had. There was no pity in her heart, no second-guessing her actions. They had made their choice, and now they had paid the price.

Nyx, still watching her with that same dark amusement, couldn’t help but appreciate her even more. She was a rare find, a human filled with such brutality was like a drug for Nyx's peculiar tastes. It was a quality he found endlessly intriguing, one that only heightened his interest in her.

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"Where's Nyx?" Zinnia asked, her voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of impatience.

Silas glanced up from his work, his fingers deftly arranging various glassware on the table. "He's out acquiring some missing ingredients," he replied. "I need them to make a draught of [Headstart]. Usually it's used to aid young children with learning basic skills faster, but in this case, I want to use it to expedite Selen's re-learning of the Empire's language."

Selen had just exited the bath, her hair damp and her skin flushed from the heat. She was now seated at a small table, looking over the alphabet Silas had drawn for her. Her eyes flicked between the letters and Silas, a mixture of concentration, confusion and exasperation upon on her face.

Zinnia leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "Will this new situation with her affect our plans for the capital?~" she asked, her tone skeptical.

Silas shook his head. "It won't. This will only save me some time down the line after I get my hands on all the items I need."

Zinnia rolled her eyes. "And once you're done? Will you let me go?"

Silas's lips curled into a faint smile. "You may be the one that refuses to go."

Concern flickered across Zinnia's face at his words. Meanwhile, Selen waved towards Silas, drawing his attention back to her.

Silas moved closer and began to articulate each letter slowly and clearly. Selen repeated after him, her pronunciation improving with each attempt.

After spending some time answering Selen's questions, Silas returned to his conversation with Zinnia. "Early in the morning," he said, "I'll pay the imprisoned inquisitor a visit. Once Nyx comes back, I'll brew the draught for Selen and have her focus on learning to communicate normally."

Zinnia nodded slowly. "And what do you want me to do?"

"Nothing has changed," Silas replied. "You and Nyx will investigate the oddity he found within the town." He reached into his satchel and pulled out a small tin containing several wads of cotton-like material colored in strange hues of dull pink around the edge and vibrant green in the middle. "If you run into trouble," he instructed, "use the piece of flint inside to light a spark onto the exterior of these. Once you do, run—and close your eyes and mouth. Pinch your nose shut if you want to avoid problems."

Zinnia looked intrigued but confused. "What do they do?"

"They bloom." Silas answered cryptically.

Zinnia raised an eyebrow but didn't press further.

Silas then took another of his disguise pills to maintain his appearance before shifting the topic. "How long have you been cultivating Illusionist arts?"

Zinnia cracked a joke about him wanting to get to know her more intimately but it didn't land, so she said simply "Just because you have my life in your hands doesn't mean I'll reveal and do absolutely everything you want..."

Silas sat down on the bed with a crack of his neck. "You'd be surprised how many claim similar bravado but often end up not being able to carry it out." Before she could retort, he continued, "I'm asking for your sake as I'm in a good mood." He revealed a bloody pendant hidden inside one of his satchel pockets.

Zinnia's eyes grew wide as she recognized it as an Illusionist manual.

Silas waved it around before hiding it again. He laughed softly. "This manual has a bone age requirement to access its basic contents, but to open its secrets requires an Illusionist's matured Energy."

Zinnia gulped and answered through gritted teeth at the dangled prize. "Close to four decades of bone age and slightly over two for how long I've been practicing."

Silas raised an eyebrow and said ''Lie''.

She hesitated but admitted, "My bone age is closer to three decades, and I've been cultivating for a decade and a half."

"You have no reason to guess an appropriate age," Silas said as he threw the pendant at her.

She caught it quickly.

"I have no need of it," he continued. "Consider it an advanced treat from me."

Excitedly, Zinnia let some of her energy flow into the pendant.

Silas chuckled darkly. "The requirement to open it is five hundred years of both bone age and energy maturity."

Immediately, her fingers started to grow numb as she stopped her attempt to pry into the manual.

Zinnia deadpanned at him. "You're cruel for getting my hopes up.~"

At that moment, Selen walked over with a piece of paper in hand—a drawing of a tree atop a river on it—and written in Korr'av-el above it: ''Recognize?''

For once, after a long while, Silas found himself stumped by such a strange question; after all, plants within rivers were not an uncommon sight.