There is a difference between killing someone close to you and killing someone you don't know.
Kill a stranger is impersonal. Detached. Hunting. The act simply resembles a sport, nothing more than cutting down a living thing that means nothing to you. Hunting has always been justified as entertainment, a simple past time. But those who kill those they know--their family, their companions--carry something different in their blood. Only those who are truly deranged spill the blood of those whom they love, their familiar, the intimate, and still manage to smile afterwards.
Her brunette hair came down to her shoulders, unkempt but striking against the burning sunlight, the strands glinted a faint red hue where the sunlight hit. Her eyes wide but unbothered, filled with an expression of boredom. She slouched as she walked, her pale skin glistening faintly with perspiration. The day was unbearably hot and the glare of the sun burned away at her skin.
She muttered to herself, her voice flat.
"Why should I? Such minor tasks". Her tone carried no weight of complaint, only fatigue. It felt as if her body was fighting back against her soul. Sleep clung stubbornly to her and hunger gnawed at her gut. Beneath her eyes were faint smudges of purple.
"I really need better control of this body. Rogue witches….. their mana could help me".
She stopped before an abandoned building, its shadow blotting out the light behind her. The place was decrepit, an old warehouse swallowed by mildew and rot. The wooden roof sagged dangerously inward like it hadn't been used in years, beams cracked and splintered. Even from the entrance, the air reeked of mildew, smoke, and something faintly metallic, like rust and dried blood.
The warehouse was enormous. Once, perhaps, it had been a factory that bustled with workers, machines grinding away at production. Now it was nothing but a hollow carcass of itself, an empty shell of what it once was.
Sarah stood at the entrance, her arms crossed, hey eyes narrowed as if the very sight offended her.
"Why in the world is this place a rotting dump? He must be messing with me, He should've at least pick a hideout that doesn't smell like wet socks".
Her voice carried into the hollow chamber, bouncing back faintly as though the building itself resented her presence.
Her footsteps echoed loud as she entered, her boots striking hard against the cracked concrete floor. The deeper she went, the more the building revealed its decay, empty steel shelves were scattered around her, their metal frames rusted orange, the paint on the brick walls were peeled in wide strips and the steel frames of the building were rusting as if they were about to collapse any second.
The aura of mana clung to the air, faint but restless like an invisible mist crawling across her skin.
She had her hands in her pockets, letting her eyes wander across the emptiness. "Come out", she said, the steel shrieked as it flew across the floor and smashed into the wall. The crash echoed in long metallic waves, filling the silence with a loud screech.
"I don't want to be here longer than I should have to," she said, her tone sharp with a warning. "I don't have any patience".
From the shadows, two figures emerged. Their clothes were threadbare, dusty, and stank of days without washing. Their faces hollowed with exhaustion, eyes sunken, and their bodies trembled with a kind of weakness that came not from fear alone, but hunger.
The first was tall, remarkably so, towering at least 5 inches above Sarah. Her hair, a snow white that seemed to be dirtied by the dust. But her eyes betrayed her, hollow, red rimmed, panting heavily as though her heart might beat out of her chest.
"Are you here? Are you part of the backup that the gang sent"? Her voice cracked with desperation, hope laced with fear.
"The gang"?
Sarah tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowed, her pupils gave off a slight glow.
The tall witch straightened a little, searching her face for recognition
"Didn't the boss send you"?
The second witch, younger, clutching her arm like it still hurt from some old wound, whispered, "We just wanted to survive. We're not hurting anyone."
"What gang are you from"?
Sarah stared at them blankly.
[I guess the rogues have finally banded together, are they planning to take down the government like this?]
The small one spoke up, his voice quiet and shaking.
"We're from th-".
Before the word could finish, the tall witch snapped her hand out, covering the boy's mouth. The younger froze, silenced instantly.
"Don't, say anything". She looked towards Sarah with a fake smile on her face. "If you aren't from the gang then what do you want with us here"?
The false smile didn't reach her eyes. And there, in her palm, crimson sparks began to flicker—unstable, faint flames barely contained.
"Don't underestimate me, believe it or not, I'm part of the Smiths".
"Is that supposed to impress me"?
Sarah had one hand in her pocket as she looked up at the tall girl, her face unapologetic and unshaken.
"Come to think of it, my neck hurts from looking up at you". A grin spread across her face as she rubbed the back of her neck, her words dropped like iron.
"Thou bare thy pate quite high".
That tall witch blinked in confusion.
It struck instantly--she felt an excruciating pain in her shin yet she couldn't scream, she felt like her bone was being pushed in from all sides, no blood spilled, yet her limbs twisted grotesquely as if something had chewed through her bone. She collapsed to the ground hard, groaning as agony radiated through her frame.
Sarah stared down at the small girl, she collapsed to the ground as well, but not from pain but from fear, tears dripped onto her cheeks, her hands shook, she couldn't even make out a single word.
"P-p-p"..
Sarah's eyes slid to her, expression still empty, disinterested. Her presence alone silenced the girl more than force ever could.
The tall witch, panting heavily, pointed a trembling finger upward. Her face twisted with pain, veins bulging along her temple, pupils blown wide.
"Who the hell are you"!?
The tall girl pointed her finger at Sarah, her brows furrowed and her pupils dilated.
Sarah's gaze flickered lazily towards the finger. "Don't point at me".
The tall witch's arm shattered. Not from a external blow, but from within--every bone crushed to powder, blood vessels bursting, yet the skin sealed tight like a bag preventing its contents from spilling.
The tall witch's scream tore through the hollow warehouse, bouncing off the walls like a wounded animal's death cry. Dust shook loose from the rafters above, raining down in pale motes that caught the sunlight. Her voice cracked under the weight of agony, echoing until it became a rasp, then a sob.
Sarah didn't flinch. She only blinked slowly.
The younger witch shrank back, her thin body trembling violently. She pressed herself against one of the rusting steel shelves, her nails clawing at the metal. The sound was shrill, desperate, like metal being scratched with glass. Her nails bent backward, some tearing, leaving streaks of blood smeared across the iron surface.
"P-please," she stuttered. Her words stumbled over each other, broken by sobs. "Please—don't kill me, I don't want to die! I don't—I don't—"
Her pleading disintegrated into incoherent whimpers.
The tall witch, clutching her ruined arm, snarled through the tears and spit. She raised her remaining hand, crimson sparks flaring with more desperation than skill. Rage burned in her bloodshot eyes, wide and trembling with fury.
"DIE"! Her other hand sparked with a flame, trying to reach out towards Sarah's face.
Sarah didn't step back. She titled her head, expression blank as her eyes pulsed with mana. "What are you trying to do"?
The tall witch's body convulsed, her limbs twitching in random spasms. Her head started to expand from the inside out, the brain was pushed up against the inside of her skull. From the center of head, her entire head was being pushed apart. The air itself seemed to warp around the tall witch's head. Her eyes bulged, her teeth clenched so tight they cracked. Then, with an audible crunch, her skull began to split from within.
Red
A crimson red splattered all over Sarah's face.
Sarah blinked as the spray of blood hit her cheek. Warm. Sticky. It dripped down her chin and stained her pale lips crimson. She wiped the blood off with her arm.
The tall witch's body collapsed with a hollow thud, twitching once before going still. Her skull was nothing but scattered fragments across the damp concrete floor. The younger witch's scream cracked the silence — high-pitched, desperate, raw.
"P-please—don't, don't kill me, I don't—I don't want to die!" she cried, backing into one of the rusted shelves. Her nails scraped against the steel, her nails broke, the dry blood trailed across the floor, as if clawing for an escape that didn't exist.
"Go".
Sarah kicked the girl, as she fell over onto the cold steel floor.
"Don't show your face".
The small girl ran away as fast as she could, slightly stumbling but still running as quickly as her legs could carry her.
[This must be lady Bleu's luck, thank her!!]
Her tears blew in the wind.
[My head hurts, this must be because of the adrenaline wearing off]
The younger witch's head convulsed mid-run. She dropped to her knees, clutching at her skull as though trying to keep it together. Her eyes widened, then glazed. A sick crack split the silence as her skull collapsed inward, bone shattering, brain bursting. It was as though invisible hands had crushed her like a delicate glass sphere.
Her body dropped to the cold floor with a loud thud, twitching before going still. A gaping void remained where the top of her head had been.
"I changed my mind".
Sarah walked up to the small body.
With one hand, she dragged the corpse back, blood trailing from the body, she tossed it onto the tall witch's body like discarded trash.
The silence that followed lasted only seconds before slow, deliberate clapping filled the air.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Dominic walked up directly to her, slowly clapping his hands.
"How impressive lady Rouge," he said smoothly, bowing his head slightly.
His eyes slightly glowing a potent blue.
"I can't believe that you were just watching".
Sarah wiped the last streaks of the blood off her lips with her thumb, staring down at Dominic.
"I was observing." Dominic's voice carried reverence, but beneath it lingered a flicker of unease. He clasped his hands behind his back. "You hardly needed assistance after all."
"Really"? Sarah rolled her eyes.
"I really didn't need to get their blood onto me, anyways, start the spell".
"Of course my lady".
He bowed before her, basking in her presence for a split second. He pulled out a thin dagger, its blade gleaming faintly with etched runes. Without hesitation, he began to carve lines on the floor, dragging blood from the fallen witches into a widening circle. His movements were precise, practiced, almost ritualistic.
Sarah kicked away an empty can, her eyes fixed on the growing circle.
She closed her eyes and sighed.
"I can't believe I'm being forced to use a spell made by Lyra, I can't believe that this body is this weak".
"My lady, mind if I ask but, who is this Lyra that you are referring to"?
"She was a prominent witch around a millennia ago, we had a teensy bit of history together ". She stared at the magic circle as she stretched out her hand towards it.
"She's dead now, so it doesn't matter now".
The fallen bodies were laid down in the center as the blood started to glow a burning white.
Her eyes unwavering and eerily calm like she had done this hundreds of times before.
"Vita Nova".
The bodies disintegrated into hundreds of beams of light, like sparkles that shone like a rainbow.
Mana, the very essence of the soul flowed into her.
The last fragments seeped into her skin, sinking beneath her pale flesh like molten threads weaving into her veins. For a moment, her chest rose sharply, her entire body trembling as if she had just swallowed fire. Then it steadied.
"Are you kidding me"? She said flatly.
Dominic stood, his glowing eyes meeting hers. There was admiration there, yes, but also something else — the slightest flicker of unease.
"I followed your commands to a tee".
"Whatever".
He bowed his head again, though his jaw tightened.
"Lady Rouge, this is only the beginning, the ones that you have absorbed are only level 5s, there are more, stronger ones, witches who've hidden from the government for decades".
Sarah said nothing. She only stared at the fading circle, her expression unreadable. The blood had vanished, but the air still thrummed with mana. Her hands flexed once, then stilled.
Outside, the wind howled through broken glass. Dust swirled around them. The silence that followed was thick, heavy with things unspoken.