Mr. Razach opened the glass case and carefully extracted the crimson scythe, stepping back a short distance from us to test its balance with a few effortless, fluid maneuvers.
Whoosh.
The air seemed to fracture as he swung the weapon, generating a deadly, whistling arc. The sudden displacement of air blew my semi-long black hair back against my forehead. I could see Chloe's eyes shining with profound anticipation; judging by the tight clenching of her hands, she could barely wait to claim the scythe for herself.
He finally handed the weapon over to her. The moment it touched her fingers, she blurred and completely vanished from sight. I scanned the room for a moment, realizing she was no longer anywhere inside.
"She's outside," I murmured aloud, having focused on her magical signature for half a second. I had recently realized that I could pinpoint her precise location by using her bloodmark on me as a psychic pathway for my Willpower. It only required a minor expenditure of Will to instantly track her exact coordinates.
Mr. Razach and I stepped outside into the sunlit clearing and found her moving in a breathtaking, lethal blur—shifting and spinning as though caught in a deadly, rhythmic dance. The blood-red scythe trailed through the air like a streak of fire.
Mr. Razach and I sat down on nearby boulders to watch her spectacle.
"So, you managed to win over the princess of the blood clan, huh?" Mr. Razach began, glancing sidelong at me.
"It seems you're good for her. That's the first time I've ever seen her display such genuine emotion in public; she's usually so cold and distant." There was a heavy undertone of melancholy in his gaze, as though he were reminiscing about a bygone era.
Listening to him speak once more reminded me of Chloe's monumental standing. Even when we first crossed paths, she was exactly as he described—guarded, distant, and aloof. She was, after all, viewed by the elder statesmen of the vampire council as the living messiah destined to usher their entire race into a golden age.
As I was musing, a sudden spike of sharp bloodlust pricked my senses. Mr. Razach instantly sprang to his feet, a thunderous, hardened expression locking onto his face. I knew immediately that we had uninvited guests. Chloe had already come to a halt, closing her eyes as though tuning into the ambient noise of the woods.
"I am truly sorry, Mr. Razach. It seems we've brought trouble right to your doorstep," she said, looking genuinely apologetic.
He stared at her with steely eyes before letting out a slow, heavy sigh.
"It can't be helped. I suppose because I've kept a low profile and stayed out of the public eye for so long, people assume it's safe to mess with me," he smiled savagely.
Reaching behind his back, he summoned a massive, brutal smithing hammer into his grip.
He turned to look at me. "Samsara, do you need a weapon?"
"No, thank you. I prefer to fight bare-handed." He looked intrigued by my response, though he clearly filed the thought away for later.
"Five minutes," Chloe announced abruptly. We knew instantly she was counting down the arrival of our assailants.
"Four."
"Three."
"Two."
"One."
"They're here."
The exact second the word left her lips, a wave of combatants surged out from the surrounding tree line. A gigantic wolf, standing at least two meters tall with bared fangs, lunged straight at me. I transitioned smoothly from a seated posture to a defensive stance. Before it could close the distance, I flipped my palm upward, unleashing a violent gale of wind that hurled the beast backward faster than it had approached, sending it crashing deep into the dense forest.
Simultaneously, I felt a sharp, freezing breeze graze my neck and ducked instinctively. A cold blade cleaved the empty air precisely where my head had been a heartbeat prior.
I spun on my heel and lashed out with a swift, powerful roundhouse kick. A muted thud echoed through the clearing as my assailant was sent hurtling away. Straightening up, I glanced over and saw Chloe effortlessly slicing through anything that entered the lethal radius of her scythe. Mr. Razach, meanwhile, was a terrifying machine of war; despite his colossal frame, he moved with supernatural grace, each hammer strike falling with calculated, bone-shattering precision. The sickening sound of snapping bones and tearing muscle filled the air.
Suddenly, a fireball the size of a basketball hurtled toward me, scorching the surrounding atmosphere. I made a sharp grabbing motion with my hand, and the projectile abruptly froze in mid-air. The mage who had cast it stared at me in absolute shock, looking as though he had just witnessed the most impossible scene in existence. I clenched my fist tightly. The compressed fireball imploded violently like a string of fireworks. The mage grunted heavily, vomiting a mouthful of blood. Before he could regain his balance, I accelerated, my legs blurring with speed. In a fraction of a second, I materialized in front of him and delivered a devastating punch; a loud crack echoed as his cranium shattered, and he collapsed heavily onto the grass, completely motionless.
Scanning the chaotic battlefield for remaining threats, my eyes landed on a man dressed in immaculate, pristine white robes. He held a traditional katana in his right hand, walking forward with a carefree, utterly peaceful expression. From his delicate, refined facial features, I knew instantly that he hailed from the Aso continent. He took a soft, measured breath. Amidst the roaring chaos of the ongoing battle, I shouldn't have been able to hear him over the din, yet his intake of breath sounded as though he were standing directly behind me.
And then, he was.
I hadn't felt, seen, or even psychically sensed his movement. He was moving like a phantom. His katana drove forward, puncturing my right lung and causing me to choke up a mix of blood from my mouth and nose. Dizziness washed over me, and a swift push from his foot sent me flying off his blade, crashing violently into the trunk of a large tree.
Crack.
The tree splintered under the force of the impact, and I tumbled heavily to the ground alongside the broken wood. Pushing myself back to my feet with immense difficulty, I glared at the infuriatingly peaceful man. My internal injuries were knitting back together, but the healing process felt agonizingly sluggish—as though an alien, hostile energy was actively resisting my usually instantaneous regeneration. I grunted against the pain. What the hell was that? What sort of supernatural is he? One thing is crystal clear: he is insanely strong. Hands down, the most powerful adversary I've ever faced.
I grabbed my dislocated left arm and yanked it sharply; it snapped back into place with a loud pop.
"You're good," the swordsman remarked evenly. "I was aiming straight for your heart, but you managed to shift a few centimeters away despite never sensing my approach."
"Who the hell are you?" I demanded coldly.
"That's for me to know and for you to wonder," he replied with a serene smile, speaking as though he were imparting a profound universal truth. My right eye twitched violently.
"Is that so?"
He nodded gently and took another light breath. My eyes narrowed, and I instantly raised my hands. Just as I anticipated, he vanished and reappeared right beside me in a blink, slashing horizontally with the katana. This time, however, the blade struck an invisible barrier before it could reach my flesh, generating a shower of bright sparks and a sharp metallic ring.
"A barrier?" he mused aloud, sounding genuinely curious.
"Don't think I'll fall for the exact same trick twice," I fired back.
"Ho..." he murmured, looking amused. He dissolved into the air once more and reappeared twenty meters away.
"We'll see about that."