Imina's fingers tightened around the hilts of her twin daggers, her palms slick with sweat. Her normally sharp and confident expression was replaced by something unfamiliar—a deep, quiet solemnity.
The air grew heavy, almost suffocating.
"Are you sure you want to take on four opponents at once?"
Sakeer's calm voice came from behind her.
"If you're not planning to run, then fine," Imina muttered. Her eyelids twitched—if the situation weren't so dire, she'd have a few choice words for him.
Though she had sensed a dangerous presence from Sakeer the last time they first met, she had never believed that someone so gifted in alchemy would waste his energy on combat.
She was not a close-combat fighter, and Sakeer? A Magic Caster, of all things. He was even worse suited for a direct battle.
This situation was bad.
Yet, surprisingly, Imina hadn't fled.
Sakeer glanced at her, a hint of surprise in his expression. Their relationship was nothing more than a verbal contract—an employer-mercenary arrangement.
And yet, faced with this crisis, Imina hadn't abandoned him.
That was… unexpected.
"Use all the buff magic you have on me."
Imina's voice was low, controlled.
Her left dagger was raised horizontally before her chest, while her right dagger hovered near her waist—her stance lowering, body coiled tight like a predator preparing to strike.
A half-elf.
Neither fully accepted by humans nor truly belonging among elves.
Even though the Baharuth Empire wasn't particularly hostile toward demi-humans, the disgusted stares were ever-present.
And she hated them for it.
But… the man behind her had never looked at her that way.
Not even once.
"I'm sorry," Sakeer said, spreading his hands. "I don't have that kind of magic."
"..."
Imina's eyes twitched.
"Hey, hey, are you two done talking?"
A voice rang out from not far away.
Among the three masked intruders, the one at the front spoke with amusement, his tone lighthearted.
A short silver sword rested in his grip, its blade gleaming coldly beneath the moonlight.
"We don't mean any harm," he said, arms spread wide as if to reassure them. "We just want Your Excellency, the Alchemist, to come with us."
According to their employer's intel, the only real obstacles were the half-elf woman and the small Barghest.
Behind him, another intruder—a man with a chain slung around his neck—snorted. His eyes flicked toward Imina, brimming with mockery.
"Tch. A mutt like you should stop being an eyesore," he sneered. "Flat as a board, no curves, and still acting all tough—what, do you think you're a man?"
Imina's jaw clenched. The veins on her pale neck bulged slightly, but her expression remained unreadable.
She held her stance.
She did not react.
The short-sword wielder turned, addressing the silent figure by the gate—the one wrapped in a gray robe, who had yet to speak.
"This prey is ours," he said coldly. "So kindly leave."
For the first time, the gray-robed figure moved.
A soft, pleasant voice rang out, lighthearted yet teasing.
"Looks like you're in a bit of trouble."
"Need help?" The tone was almost playful.
"No payment required."
The word "payment" was spoken with an unmistakable smile.
A woman?
Imina blinked.
Then, her expression darkened.
That last comment—it was directed at her.
"Bastard!" the chain-wielding intruder snarled, voice rough with anger.
It was clear—the gray-robed woman didn't even consider them worth acknowledging.
"You're asking for death!"
The short-sword wielder raised his weapon.
"You two, deal with the half-elf," he ordered. "I'll take care of her."
The moment the words left his mouth—
"Acceleration!"
His body flashed forward, vanishing in an instant—
And then—
Before the short-sword wielder could even register what had happened,
The gray-robed woman was already in front of him.
Her fist drove straight into his chest.
CRACK!
The sickening sound of shattering ribs echoed through the courtyard.
The swordsman choked, his body folding inward from the sheer force.
Before he could even scream—
Snap!
The woman's arms crossed, and with a single, merciless motion, she twisted his neck.
The scream died instantly.
A lifeless corpse crumpled at her feet.
"Big Brother—!"
"Big Brother—!!"
The other two intruders froze, eyes wide with disbelief.
Just as they moved to react—
The gray-robed woman grabbed the dead man's body with one hand and—
HURLED IT at the chain-wielding man.
At the same time—
She lunged.
Fast. Too fast.
The moment the chain-wielding intruder shoved the corpse away, his eyes darted up—
Only to see his remaining companion already clutched in her grasp.
"You… You…"
The chain-wielding man trembled violently, fear evident in his every movement.
With a desperate swing, he lashed out with his iron chain, aiming straight for the gray-robed woman.
"Fortress."
The gray-robed woman effortlessly hurled the corpse she had been holding aside.
In the same motion, she plucked the long knife from the dead man's body, raising it with ease.
A flicker of green light pulsed along the blade.
The incoming chain collided against it midair—
And was instantly repelled.
Sou!
The gray-robed woman flicked her wrist.
The long knife whistled as it cut through the air—
And pierced straight into the chest of the chain-wielding man.
The entire battle had lasted less than thirty seconds—
A brutal and overwhelming display of power.
"Too Strong…"
Imina watched in stunned silence, sweat breaking out along her forehead.
This gray-robed woman…
Her movements were precise, ruthless, efficient.
The kind of skill that could only be honed through years of real combat.
Imina's grip on her daggers loosened slightly.
"One Breath Left."
The gray-robed woman lifted the dying man, holding him up effortlessly.
Then, she turned toward Sakeer and Imina, her voice calm, almost playful.
"Do you need me to ask who sent these three men?"
Imina's eyes flickered toward the mysterious figure cloaked in gray.
Her daggers lowered slightly.
The man she was holding—the one who had insulted her earlier—
Was she doing this as a gesture of goodwill?
An unspoken message that she wasn't an enemy?
Imina remained silent but turned her head slightly, glancing at Sakeer.
"No," Sakeer said, his tone indifferent. "I don't."
The gray-robed woman paused for a beat.
Then—
Crack!
With a single, fluid motion, she snapped the man's neck and tossed the corpse aside.
As the gray-robed woman stepped closer, a rich, lingering scent filled the air.
The aroma was so overpowering that even the Barghest, with its keen sense of smell, shook its head in discomfort.
Sakeer studied the woman, his gaze sharpening—not at her appearance, but at the scent she was using to mask something.
Whoosh!
The gray hood was pulled back.
A young woman stood before them.
Her long, pale blonde hair cascaded down her back, partially covering one side of her face.
Her green eyes shimmered under the moonlight, her lips soft, her complexion fair and composed.
She looked to be around twenty years old, but her presence felt far older.
As the gray robe fell open slightly, the scent she carried grew even stronger, causing Imina to instinctively wrinkle her nose.
"Sorry for the late visit."
The blonde-haired woman gave a slight bow, her voice respectful.
"My name is Leinas. I have something to discuss with His Excellency, the Alchemist."
As she spoke, her gaze flickered toward Imina—
Sakeer had been waiting for this woman for some time.
But now that she stood before him, he felt no rush, no excitement.
Only calm expectation.
"Thank you, Miss Leinas, for your assistance," he said smoothly.
Then, shifting his focus, he addressed Imina.
"Imina, handle the bodies first."
…Huh?
Imina blinked.
Her guard remained up, but Sakeer's order made her hesitate.
Dispose of the bodies?
That was a clear attempt to separate her from the conversation.
Her gaze flickered toward Leinas again.
This woman… Who exactly was she?
But in the end, Imina nodded.
"Fine."
After a brief pause, she sheathed her twin daggers, stepped forward, and dragged the corpse away—
Leaving Sakeer and Leinas alone in the courtyard.