The two remaining guards exchanged pale, terrified glances, like cornered animals. One, without thinking twice and overcome by panic, stumbled over his own feet and ran in the opposite direction like a deer desperately fleeing a lethal predator. But before he could get far enough, the familiar dry sound of a gunshot echoed in the silent night, shattering the stillness like cracked glass against the ground.
The man fell to the ground like a tree felled by lightning, a round hole piercing his brain, a completely incurable wound. The same cruel fate struck the other who ran desperately beside him. No human, not even with powerful ogre blood, could survive that; with the brain completely destroyed, not even an ogre could regenerate from such damage.
—How pathetic and cowardly… Fleeing from an enemy —came a voice laden with absolute disdain and contempt.
Looking up toward the heights, a young woman appeared whose long, wavy hair, tied in a ponytail, fell in cascades of intense red, as if the flames of a fiery sunset had spilled over her shoulders, each strand gleaming with a brightness that evoked the glow of a distant lighthouse. It was Alice, a specialized mage.
A thin wisp of white smoke dissipated gently in the night breeze, rising from her extended index finger. I recognized the spell she had invoked at once: magic missile. It was a transmutation spell that exemplified the advanced application of magical projectiles, allowing the creation of compressed missiles and the precise modification of arrow tips with notable skill.
—Though, who wouldn't have done so in those circumstances? —commented another present, with a slightly compassionate tone.
This was Aurore, a young woman who appeared about sixteen years old and stood with unshakeable firmness on the intricate web of threads, alongside her companions, who, like me, had observed every detail of the battle from a secluded corner.
Her hair, as deep and vibrant a blue as a polished sapphire, fell in untamed cascades, each strand undulating with the natural grace of a serpentine river that resisted being tamed by any force. Some strands were carefully braided, like small threads of an ancient tapestry, while others rose freely, defying gravity with an energy that evoked the spirit of a dancing hurricane.
A bright orange handkerchief, the exact color of autumn leaves when the sun embraces them for the last time before winter, crowned her head like a diadem, tied with a simple yet firm knot, like a beacon of warmth that contrasted beautifully with the freshness of her blue locks. Tiny red beads hung delicately from the braids, shining like drops of liquid ruby that captured the light with a playful and seductive sparkle.
Her attire was a living testament to rustic elegance, a perfect fusion of delicacy and strength that spoke clearly of an adventurous soul with a refined heart. The white blouse she wore had long, puffed sleeves that swelled like the sails of a ship at sea, capturing the air with an ethereal softness that seemed to float. The fabric, light and translucent at the edges, revealed the smoothness of her skin, which seemed to have been molded with the same softness as the purest alabaster.
Over the blouse, a brown leather corset, the warm tone of earth after a spring rain, cinched her torso with enviable artisanal precision. The black laces crisscrossing the front were like the taut strings of a tuned lute, while the carved wooden buttons, each with a unique intricate design, seemed like small relics from an enchanted forest. The corset, fitted but not oppressive, enhanced her figure with the grace of a Renaissance sculpture, outlining curves that were both powerful and delicate.
—Are you wondering if the rookie might have died? —asked Alice suddenly, referring to me, as her gaze scanned the surroundings with the attention of a hunter.
—I don't think it will be a serious problem —replied Aurore calmly, her voice laden with a serene confidence that reassured me.
—It's strange that you assess someone with so much confidence, Aurore —pointed out Alice, raising a finger to indicate a guard attempting to slip away stealthily in the shadows, believing himself completely invisible.
—After all, he fought valiantly against a Necrophage and survived —explained Aurore, raising a finger to emphasize her solid argument, while her eyes met Alice's in an exchange of complicity.
—I suppose that's true —conceded Alice with a slight approving nod. At that precise moment, the deafening bang of a gunshot tore through the night air, and in the distance, the guard's body fell to the ground with a dull thud, his desperate escape thwarted by lethal precision.
In a matter of dizzying seconds, all the present bodyguards were annihilated with absolutely terrifying efficiency. They were truly an intimidating elite team, that I couldn't deny. It was the first time I had seen them in real action, and the cold, ruthless way they eliminated people—radically different from how they had treated me—made it abundantly clear that none of them were remotely good people. I clenched my teeth tightly as I ran desperately down the hallway; I had to find Daphne as soon as possible and check if she was still alive.
—Guh… Help…! Please, I have a little daughter! —I heard someone plead desperately as I ran.
In one of the side rooms, I immediately recognized the pitiful pleas of Daphne's father. I hesitated for a moment, making a brief pause that could cost me dearly. It seemed they were strangling him slowly, with sadistic intent.
—Oh, I didn't expect a filthy Necrophage to beg for his dear daughter —mocked another voice with a sweet yet venomous tone—. Don't worry. She'll join you wherever you're going after this.
«Necrophage?» I blinked, completely bewildered by the revelation. The attacker's voice sounded surprisingly familiar, an echo I knew well. There was no absolute doubt: it was Mica's distinctive voice. My heart raced violently upon hearing her cold response. Was Daphne's father really a Necrophage? Was Daphne also involved in this? Or was she already…?
—My daughter too… Don't you have a shred of mercy? —the man pleaded with his last desperate breath.