Agni's vision cleared.
Sharpened.
Every particle.
Every movement.
Every possibility.
He could see it all.
The forest around him became a map of trajectories and angles.
In that crystalline moment of hyper-awareness, Walton made his move.
Three bullets fired in quick succession—but something was wrong with their trajectory. Agni's enhanced sight tracked each projectile's path, and none of them were aimed directly at him.
They were aimed at Philip.
"What the—" Agni started to say, then understood with horrible clarity what was happening.
Philip raised his curved sword with practiced precision, using the flat of the blade like a mirror to redirect each bullet toward Agni's position. It was a technique that required incredible skill and perfect timing—these weren't just random assassins, they were professionals with years of combat experience.
The first bullet came screaming toward him after bouncing off Philip's blade. Agni threw himself to the side just in time, but the redirected projectile slammed into the rock he'd been using as cover. The stone exploded in a shower of sharp fragments, leaving him completely exposed.
The second bullet was already incoming.
"I need to call out the spell name," Agni realized, remembering his magic theory lessons. "Named spells are always stronger than silent casting!"
"Void Burst!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, thrusting both hands forward.
It tore through the forest like an invisible hurricane. Trees splintered and toppled, undergrowth was ripped from the ground, and even the air itself seemed to ripple with distorted energy. The redirected bullet disintegrated completely, along with a good portion of the forest around them.
BANG.
The third shot.
Agni saw it coming—another ricochet, another redirected bullet aimed at his center mass. He twisted, letting it graze past his ribs, the heat of its passage searing his skin.
But that dodge cost him.
Philip was on top of him.
"Flame Burst!" Agni shouted, trying to replicate the attack that had killed Sasha.
he'd seen that technique already and was ready for it. The assassin twisted away from the expanding fireball with fluid grace, letting the flames burst harmlessly in the air beside him.
Then his blade came down.
The curved sword bit deep into Agni's right wrist, slicing through bone and tendon with sickening ease. Before the prince could even scream, Philip followed up with a horizontal slash that severed his entire arm at the elbow, then completed the combination with an upward cut that took off most of his right shoulder.
Blood sprayed in all directions as Agni's severed limb hit the forest floor with a wet thud.
This is what it feels like.
Being cut apart.
Bone by bone.
Piece by piece.
I should remember this.
"Definitely easier when it's a sword instead of magic"
Philip grinned,"You can really feel it cut through bone by bone."
BANG.
Walton's fourth shot came from the side.
No ricochet this time. No fancy deflection. Just a straight shot to Agni's chest, punching through his ribs and tearing into his left lung.
Blood fountained from the exit wound.
Air bubbled and wheezed through the hole
"Recognize this sensation," he muttered through blood-frothed lips, his voice barely audible. "Remember how it feels to be cut apart bone by bone."
Agni gripped the air with his remaining hand, focusing not on creating something, but on removing it. Instead of generating fire or force, he reached out with his mana and simply... deleted a line of air molecules.
The effect was a blade made of absolute nothingness—a cut in reality itself.
"Slash," he whispered.
Philip sneered in disgust at what looked like empty posturing. "Is he trying to swing an invisible sword? This kid's lost too much blood—he's hallucinating."
But Philip's expression suddenly changed from arrogant confidence to confused shock. He coughed once, then again, and a thin line of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
"What—" he started to say, then looked down at his chest.
A perfectly straight line had appeared across his torso, like someone had drawn on him with a red marker. For a moment, nothing happened. Then blood began gushing out in a steady stream as the wound opened wider.
"Dual casting?" Philip gasped, falling to his knees. "Or was that spell too quick to see?"
Walton realized the danger immediately and raised his mana-gun toward Agni's head.
"He's too dangerous to leave alive!"
But Agni was already moving, his enhanced perception tracking the gun's targeting trajectory with mathematical precision.
"More fluidly this time," he groaned, his voice becoming clearer and more focused despite his injuries. "Sharper."
"Void Slash".
He swung his left arm in a horizontal arc, and another Void Slash cut through the air.
This one was perfect.
The black line of nothingness sliced through Walton's bullet first, splitting the projectile in half harmlessly. But it didn't stop there—the void cut continued its path, passing through the mana-gun, Walton's hands, and finally his neck in one clean motion.
For a heartbeat, Walton stood there with a confused expression, as if trying to figure out why his gun had stopped working. Then his head slid sideways off his shoulders and hit the ground with a dull thump.
Philip , still on his knees and bleeding heavily, stared at his partner's headless corpse in horror. He grabbed for his fallen sword with shaking hands, but his strength was fading fast.
Agni looked down at the dying assassin.
"This is for Death Walker of the Crimson Prince," he said quietly, then flicked his finger toward Philip's forehead.
"Flame Burst."
At point-blank range, there was no dodging this time.
"Impossib—" Philip started to say, but the word was cut short as his head exploded in a shower of superheated blood and bone.
Death Walker of the Crimson Prince.
Big B….
I'm sorry I didn't get to call you by your real name more.
But I avenged you.
So... rest easy, buddy.
His vision blurred.
Blood loss.
Shock.
The delayed reality of what his body had endured finally catching up to him.
Agni's legs gave out.
He touched his chest with his remaining hand, feeling the wet heat of the bullet wound, the collapsed ruin of his lung.
I should... probably do something about this.
Heal. Or... something.
But I'm so...
...tired.
The ground rushed up to meet him.
Darkness followed.