Serenil led a covert strike team into the Mistborne Ruins—a long-abandoned fortress that intelligence linked to both assassination attempts. With him were Lyrasia, Nyara, and Reia—his soul-bonded maids—each now attuned to their Soul Gears.
They were not alone. Astarotte came too, draped in enchanted invisibility, and Roanna insisted on joining, despite her recent injuries. Liselotte and Piglette remained in Faeloria, guarding the royal court and serving as bait—by their own insistence.
As the team crept through the ruins, Serenil raised a hand. "They're here."
Black-clad assassins rose from the shadows, their eyes glowing with corrupted soul energy.
"Traitors of the Obsidian Covenant," Serenil said, voice icy. "You should have stayed buried."
The battle exploded.
Lyrasia moved like wind—her Soul Gear twin daggers slicing with grace and fury. Nyara danced through the air, golden bow glowing as she rained soul-tipped arrows from impossible angles. Reia, clad in soul armor, shielded the others with her lance and barrier magic.
Astarotte summoned a wave of shadowy spears, pinning enemies mid-air. Roanna's rapier struck with viper precision, draining blood with each flick.
Serenil moved like lightning—his greatsword Veresoul shattering magic and bone alike.
But the leader of the assassins stepped forth—a Soul Gear wielder wrapped in chains of cursed energy.
"You think marrying little girls and bonding with servants makes you a king?" the assassin spat. "You're a child playing god!"
Serenil's eyes turned silver-blue. "I don't play."
He vanished.
The assassin barely had time to scream as Veresoul cleaved through his chest, dispersing his corrupted soul in a burst of white light.
When it was over, the ruins were silent.
The girls stood breathless—but unharmed. They had fought together like a single being.
As they exited the ruins, moonlight bathed them. Serenil looked back only once.
"They thought we were weak because we love," he whispered. "But love is the sharpest blade of all."