Swords clashed inside the broken chapel.
Cassian moved fast, his blades spinning. He stabbed one assassin, then turned to block another. Blood ran down his arms, but he kept fighting.
“Left side’s falling!” Leila shouted from the upper window. She fired another bolt, then ducked as a dagger slammed into the wall beside her.
Kael stood near the altar, blocking attacks with heavy swings. He shoved one attacker back over a pew.
Lucien fought beside him, breath short, sword slick with blood. His arms ached, but he didn’t stop.
“Behind you!” Rook shouted.
Garron spun just in time. He blocked the blow with his broadsword and punched the assassin hard in the face, cracking his mask.
Still, the Crimson Crows kept coming.
There was no time to breathe. No time to think.
Grey moved again, his dagger slicing silently through enemies.
Leila kept shooting from above.
Rook’s traps distracted the attackers just enough for the team to finish them off.
They fought for every inch.
And finally—15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPQNAvVghyb
Silence.
The last assassin dropped to the floor.
Lucien stood still, chest heaving. The chapel was a mess—bodies everywhere, broken wood, and blood on stone.
“We made it,” he whispered.
But then—Cassian dropped to one knee.
“Cassian!” Lucien ran to him.
Cassian looked up, pale. “Just a cut... on my leg. I’m fine.”
But he clearly wasn’t.
Garron let his sword fall and leaned against the wall. “Same here... just a scratch. But it burns.”
Kael’s heart sank. “Damn it. Must be poison on their blades.”
Lucien turned to Garron, then back to Cassian again. Both were sweating, shaking.
“No. This can't be happening.” Lucien clenched his fists.
Upstairs, Leila looked out toward the trees. “Where are you, Mira? We’re running out of time.”
Then—from the back of the chapel—15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡA1UmXRvpTk
A sound.
Applause.
Slow. Cold. Mocking.
It echoed through the ruins like glass shattering in a quiet room.
Lucien spun around, sword raised. The others froze.
Then—15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8drMscaOj9
CRACK.
The rear wall split with a groan. Stone crumbled and collapsed in a blast of dust and rubble.
Through the haze, three figures emerged.
They wore bone-white masks etched with thin red veins. Their steps were slow. Precise.
The air grew heavier just from their presence—like the moment before a storm breaks.
The first tilted his head, twin curved blades strapped across his back. His voice was cool, amused.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOStvpcTOur
“Not bad... for a bunch of amateurs.”
The second—tall and broad—dragged a spear behind him, its tip scratching lines into the floor.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsghxJahFSu
“Or maybe our recruits were just pathetic.”
The third strolled forward, hands bare, black talismans swaying at his waist. His mask had no eyes—just a hollow, smiling face.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSKyXNPiO7O
“Let’s end this. It shouldn’t take long.”
Lucien stepped forward, swallowing hard. “Who are you?”
The first gave a lazy, mocking bow.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjolCq8xkFa
“Your worst nightmare.”
Kael stepped between them and the others, blade raised. “They’re not like the others. Be ready.”
Leila murmured from above. “But we’re in no shape for round two.”
Cassian tried to push himself up but dropped to one knee, face pale and slick with sweat. Garron leaned against the wall, hand pressed to his poisoned side.
Kael didn’t look back.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnR7bSpk6B3
“We stay alive. No matter what.”
The spearman laughed.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwd8EDFfZ8b
“I’d love to see you try.” He spun his weapon once, then lunged forward in a blur of motion.
Kael didn’t flinch.
He met the charge head-on, sword raised.
Steel clashed in a burst of sparks. The spear danced like a serpent—spinning, sweeping, stabbing from angles Kael barely saw coming.
He blocked high. Parried low. Sidestepped—barely.
The assassin was fast. Too fast.
Each blow forced Kael back, step by step across the ruined floor.
He gritted his teeth, searching for an opening—but there was none.
The spear struck like lightning, relentless and precise. His arm numbed from the impact. His stance broke.
A sweep caught his leg.
Kael fell hard onto the stone, his sword skidding across the floor.
The spearman advanced silently.
One hand gripped the spear. The other pressed it forward, aiming straight at Kael’s chest.
Kael rolled—too slow.
The tip of the spear flashed in the light—
“Kael!”
Lucien moved before he even thought.
He crossed the space between them in a blur, sword raised.
With a cry, he threw his whole weight behind the blade.
CLANG.
Steel slammed into the spear’s shaft, knocking it just inches off course.
The assassin stumbled back, surprised.
Lucien stood over Kael, chest heaving, sword locked against the enemy’s weapon.
Kael coughed, blood in his mouth. “That was... close.”
Lucien didn’t look down. His eyes never left the assassin.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡb4ztIMgz3w
“We’re not done yet.”
The spearman tilted his head.
Then he grinned behind the mask.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0xExuVRiji
“Two for one, then.”
He lunged again.
Lucien parried, but the blow knocked him sideways. His shoulder slammed into a broken pillar. Pain shot down his arm, but he held on.
Kael forced himself up, staggering. Blood ran from a cut over his brow. He picked up his sword and charged—but the spearman met him with brutal ease.
CRACK.
The butt of the spear slammed into Kael’s ribs. He flew back and hit the ground hard, coughing blood.
“Kael!” Lucien shouted.
Before he could move, the assassin was on him again.
Lucien swung wildly.
Blocked.
He swung again.
Too slow.
The spear slashed across his chest—not deep, but enough to steal his breath. He fell to one knee, vision blurring.
The twin-blade assassin joined the fray, flashing into the center of the chapel like a shadow.
Cassian was there, somehow still standing.
He met the strike, blades spinning. His movements were sharp, even through the pain. But the enemy was faster. Stronger.
A curved blade slashed his shoulder. Another cut deep into his thigh.
He collapsed beside a shattered pew, gasping.
Garron roared and charged, broadsword raised—but the assassin slipped past like smoke. A blade drove deep into Garron’s side.
He grunted and dropped to one knee, bleeding heavily.
“Rook—now!” Kael rasped.
Rook hurled a vial.
BOOM.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzqwlO9P5ku
Flame and smoke erupted through the room.
But when the air cleared—15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡq0qMDGQHJ8
The assassins were still standing.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPM5wDXdr9O
Barely scratched.
The third one—the eyeless one with the smiling mask—strode through the haze, talismans glowing with dark light.
He raised a hand.
A pulse of force blasted Rook and Grey across the room. They hit the far wall with a sickening crunch.
Leila fired again from above—one bolt, two, three.
All were blocked by a mana shield.
The assassin looked up and flicked his fingers.
CRACK.
The wooden beam beneath her shattered. Leila fell hard, crying out as she hit the floor.
Lucien tried to rise—sword trembling in his grip.
Every part of his body ached.
Everyone was down.
And the assassins—15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡypYSePtlne
They didn’t even break a sweat.
Lucien looked around. Kael slumped near the altar. Cassian and Garron lay still. Grey didn’t move. Leila groaned but didn’t rise.
Rook leaned against the wall, blood streaming down his arm.
“Is this it?” Lucien whispered. He had never felt so hopeless.
The spearman raised his weapon again.
The twin-blade assassin stepped forward.
The masked one began to chant.
The end was coming.
There was no winning this.
Lucien braced himself, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths.
The assassins closed in.
The chanting deepened.
Darkness pressed against the walls.
Then, out of nowhere—15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5n6pM08IUj
A shriek.
High. Piercing.
A single bat dove through a crack in the ceiling, flitting madly through the chapel’s dusty air.
The masked assassin paused mid-chant.
Another shriek followed.
Then another.
Dozens of bats burst through the hole in the broken wall.
Hundreds followed—through the shattered windows, the collapsed rear, and the half-splintered front doors.
Wings beat furiously. The air roared with sound.
The assassins faltered, turning in confusion.
The bats circled overhead, forming a vortex of shadow and screeching wings.
They spun faster and faster, swirling like a storm contained in the chapel.
The wind kicked up. Dust and blood lifted from the ground.
And then—
The swarm dropped.
It fell toward the center of the chapel like a crashing wave—then stopped midair.
Twisting. Folding. Changing.
A shape began to form.
Arms. Shoulders. A cloak of black mist and wings.
And then—15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfKVnRvUdBh
A man.
He stepped forward from the swirling dark as the last few bats melted into his body, like smoke returning to a fire.
Tall. Pale. Crimson eyes glowing with quiet fury.
Veylar.
He stood still, a faint smile curling at the edge of his lips.
Cold. Regal. Beautiful.
And deadly.
Everyone in the chapel froze.
The spearman recovered first, sneering behind his mask.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUDTGETNCz9
“A vampire in broad daylight?”
The twin-blade assassin added, “Who the hell are you?”
Veylar didn’t answer.
He didn’t even look at them.
Instead, he turned to the battered group huddled inside the chapel.
“Greetings, gentlemen,” he said at last, his voice smooth and composed—almost playful, utterly unfazed by the carnage around him.
Then his glowing eyes shifted upward. He spotted Leila, still lying near the base of the collapsed balcony.
He gave a slight bow.
“And lady.”15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡktYNCwSeQQ
He placed a hand over his chest. “Count Veylar Thorne, at your service.”
He spoke with the ease of someone untouched by urgency, as if the chaos around him meant nothing.
Leila stared up at him, eyes wide with awe.
Then, slowly, the vampire turned back to the three assassins.
His expression shifted—darkening like a sky before a storm.
“As for you filthy crows…” His voice dropped to a blade’s edge. “…I believe you owe me a house.”
The assassin with the smiling mask curled his lips beneath the bone-white porcelain.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3VwzaaByDl
“Crimson Crow fears no one. Vampire or not.”
Veylar’s smile returned—but it wasn’t kind.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtpShm2bJ7s
It was made of fangs.
“Oh… but you will.”
ns216.73.216.82da2
