[On that day, Felt made the first executive decision of her life to surrender without a fight. She knew the reality of the situation: in the face of the massive, area-of-effect ice magic Emilia was manifesting, Old Man Rom was nothing more than a giant, immobile target. He couldn't run, and he couldn't hide.]
[Hachiman spent the next fifteen minutes meticulously breaking down the Bowel Hunter's psychological profile for them. He didn't use flowery language; he used cold, sharp facts about her thirst for blood and her obsession with viscera. Under this verbal onslaught, Felt became remarkably cooperative, nodding like a frantic bird. Her only condition: she would keep the insignia until the assassin was dead, as her only insurance policy for survival.]
[Emilia, ever the soft-hearted soul, gave her word.]
[As evening approached, the sky turned a bruised purple and gold. Inside the loot cellar, the four of them waited in a tense, manufactured silence. They were the hunters now, weaving a web for Elsa Granhiert.]
Thump... Thump... Thump...
In the real world, Elsa's eyes widened, her expression a mask of frustrated disbelief. She had spent her entire career as the predator, the one lurking in the dark. To see herself being systematically dismantled by "Return by Death"—a power that exploited her own movements before she even made them—was a humiliation she could barely stomach.
"In a fair fight, three-on-one, they couldn't have held me," Elsa hissed, her nails digging into her palms. "The spirit cat disappears at sunset. If it were a war of attrition, I would have won. But a pre-meditated ambush based on a future that hasn't happened yet? It's cheating."
[Step. Step.]
[The footsteps were rhythmic and elegant. Just by the sound alone, one could tell a lethal beauty was approaching. It was the gait of an assassin who knew she was the apex predator. To Hachiman, each click of her heels sounded like a hammer hitting a nail into his coffin. Cold sweat soaked his collar, and his grim intensity forced the others to sharpen their focus to a razor's edge.]
[Creak.]
[The cellar door swung open. The heavy, stagnant air of the room immediately triggered Elsa's survival instincts. She didn't pause to investigate; she lunged backward instantly. But she wasn't fast enough to escape Puck's pre-cast 'Shamak' spell.]
[In a heartbeat, Elsa's world vanished. Her sight, hearing, and smell were sealed behind a wall of magical darkness. The sensory feedback she relied on to dance through a battlefield was gone, leaving her blind in a forest of enemies.]
[Yet, as a top-tier killer, she relied on more than just her eyes. She relied on a primal, animalistic instinct for danger. As she darted through the void, her instincts screamed at her...]
["Everywhere! The air is filled with death! There is no gap to dodge!"]
[Whoosh—!]
[A barrage of crystalline ice spears tore through the cellar, shredding Elsa's cloak and skin. Within seconds, she was transformed into a red specter, her own blood painting her from head to toe.]
[Clang!]
[Old Man Rom's giant club smashed into the floor, cratering the stone. Elsa leaped away with the grace of a wounded cat, her movements still impossibly fluid despite the gore. She tilted her head by a fraction of an inch, the wind of Felt's kukri whistling past her ear.]
["My, my... that was truly dangerous."]
["Wait!" Emilia cried out, her voice filled with sudden alarm. She gestured for Felt and Rom to fall back.]
[Elsa slowly raised her head. Her eyes were no longer clouded by magic; they were clear, burning with a mix of murderous intent and dark curiosity. The Shamak effect had worn off. A predator of her caliber wouldn't be caught by the same trick twice.]
[Puck's expression soured. "The girl has talent. Direct magic has a short shelf life against a body that's been tempered like hers. We won't get another free shot with the darkness."]
["Be careful, Lia! She's too fast. Felt is quick, but she lacks the technique to survive a prolonged exchange. You have to end this the moment you see an opening."]
[From the deepest shadows, Hachiman watched the battle like a ghost. He was recording every movement, every spark of steel, analyzing the power ceiling of this world. He was learning exactly where he stood in this food chain: at the very bottom, unless he used his mind as a weapon.]
["Hmph. You think you're the only one who's fast?" Felt hissed. Fueled by pure adrenaline, the girl from the slums pushed her Wind Blessing to its absolute limit, her body becoming a blur.]
[She could have betrayed them then. She could have sided with Elsa. But Hachiman had already accounted for that flaw in the plan. He had convinced Emilia to offer a bribe that was better than any contract: twenty Holy Dragon Gold pieces and a full legal pardon. For a girl like Felt, that wasn't just money—it was a new life.]
[The battle roared. Ice exploded against the walls, and Rom's club shattered the floorboards. Elsa was struggling. She couldn't find the momentum to kill Felt, and she was constantly being clipped by the combined bombardment of Puck and Emilia. The tide was turning, and she knew it.]
["How did it come to this?" Elsa whispered, her gaze lingering on Emilia with a terrifying promise. "I'll remember you, little girl. You'll live the rest of your short life in my shadow."]
[She prepared to vanish into the night, her retreat calculated and swift. But the nightmare Hachiman had orchestrated wasn't over.]
["I'm afraid I must ask you to stay. The Capital doesn't take kindly to such blatant displays of unsanctioned violence."]
[The voice was like a sunbeam breaking through a storm. It was a man who looked like a god walking among mortals—Reinhard van Astrea.]
[With a casual, effortless motion, he gathered the ambient mana of the room into a single strike of his sword.]
[BOOM—!!!]
[The shockwave alone was more violent than the entire twenty-minute struggle that preceded it. Elsa, already weakened, had no defense against a force of this magnitude. She was caught in the blast, her body thrown back as she lost consciousness instantly.]
["Reinhard!" Emilia cried out, her face lighting up with pure, unadulterated relief.]