I watched Oksana's head roll a few inches away, her pale, dirt-streaked face and tangled purple hair illuminated by the dying, flickering glow of the shattered lantern.
Searching my person, I realized I hadn't brought a standard burlap bounty bag to carry the prize. I didn't let the minor setback slow me down. Reaching up, I unbuttoned one of the thick, heavy canvas tunics Oksana's guard had given me earlier, stripping off the outer layer of my merchant disguise. I spread the durable fabric on the dirt, rolled her severed head into the center, and tightly bound the corners together, creating a makeshift bundle that completely masked the silhouette and kept the blood from seeping through.
As I tied the knot, the lingering, superficial aches from the carriage explosion throbbed slightly under my skin. I glanced down at the other half of her corpse, the headless torso slumped against the desert rock. To an ordinary person, it was a gruesome scene, but to a predatory phantom, it was an immense reservoir of pure, high-tier elven mana and vital essence left entirely to waste.
With the battle still raging furiously out in the mountain pass, I had no time to waste.
I leaned down into the shadows of the boulder and let my jaw unhinge, deploying my sharp, predatory fangs. I drove them deep into the exposed neck of the decapitated body. The rush of pure, potent elven blood and raw magical energy flooded my system, instantly mending every minor scrape, burn, and bruise on my current Zenni form. I didn't stop at the blood. Driven by the cold, monstrous instincts of my true nature, I drained and consumed the remaining flesh and bone, drawing every single ounce of her latent power into my own core until the dirt was left completely immaculate. Not a single crumb or trace of the Drug Lord's physical body remained.
[Drain Activated Extraction Completed consumed two liters of blood]
[DNA copied, you can shapeshift into Oksana Petrivna]
I stared down at the system notification blinking softly in the periphery of my vision, its mechanical words a jarring contrast to the heavy, plush shadows of the carriage interior.
A cold, bitter amusement flared deep within my chest, almost forcing a dark chuckle past my carefully maintained Zenni mask.
"Useless. Absolutely, utterly useless." I thought
The system delivered the notification with the clinical pride of a machine handing over a legendary prize, completely blind to the reality of the underworld. What was I supposed to do with the identity of the continent's most notorious drug kingpin? Shape my flesh into her elegant, violet-eyed elven form and walk into a bakery? The woman's face was the blueprint for a multi-million gold bounty list. She was actively hunted by independent bounty hunters, watched by the higher echelons of the underbelly, and the moment she stepped out of her heavily protected Sisiphon plaza, she was walking on a tightrope over a meat grinder.
If I shifted into Oksana outside of this fortress, I wouldn't be inheriting an empire, I would be inheriting a giant crimson bullseye. Every corrupt guard she hadn't paid off would want my head for the reward. Every rival syndicate from the Eastern District to the Capital would see a lone queen separated from her four S-rank shields and move in for the execution.
The system thought it had handed me the ultimate master key to her drug empire. In reality, it had just given me a cosmetic suit made of pure, high-profile contraband.
I rested my hand back on the cold, crimson-pulsing barrel of the Death Chant Shotgun resting across my lap, my lone eye tracking the shifting silhouettes of the S-rank guards sitting opposite us. I didn't need to steal her face to dismantle her kingdom. I didn't need to wear her skin to claim her throne.
When the countdown hit zero and the mountain passes ran red with the blood of her cartel, I wouldn't be stepping into her shoes. I would be the one putting a bullet straight through her real forehead.
"Anyway, this DNA sucks." I thought
"Literal mindfuck, huh?" Plasma banters
"Shut up."
Wiping a stray drop of crimson from my lower lip, I stood back up and slung the heavy cloth bundle containing her head over my shoulder. Outside our hiding spot, the sounds of clashing steel and screaming syndicates were beginning to wane as the two surviving S-rank guards ruthlessly thinned out my clan pawns.
It was time for Zenni to vanish from the battlefield, and for the Crimson Phantom to deliver the final proof of the ledger.
I took a deep breath, preparing to release the Zenni persona and let my true, broken form emerge from the shadows of the boulder. But before the magic could surge through my veins, heavy, blood-soaked footsteps crunched against the dirt right outside our alcove.
"Zenni!"
One of the surviving S-rank bodyguards barked, his voice ragged and breathless as he stepped into the gloom, his enchanted blade dripping with the blood of my clan pawns.
"Are you still here? Where is the Boss?"
I froze, instantly locking myself back into character. I kept my back to the darkness where Oksana's body used to be, letting out a perfectly timed, shaky sigh of relief.
"I'm here! I'm fine! I'm still protecting her, she's deep in the crevice of the rocks!"
The bodyguard didn't suspect a thing, too blinded by the chaos of the battlefield. He spat a mouthful of blood onto the sand and slammed his fist against the boulder.
"We need to initiate a full retreat. We have to flee the desert with Oksana right now! The main caravan is entirely lost."
He thought they were winning the immediate skirmish because his raw, S-rank power was utterly devastating the frontline attackers. But as he spoke, a distant horn echoed through the mountain peaks. I looked up into the darkness of the high cliffs. The Archivist's words flashed through my mind, she had vowed to send an overwhelming force to ensure Oksana's head was claimed tonight. A massive, second wave of Eastern District Clan reinforcements was currently cascading down the mountain slopes, completely outnumbering the remaining syndicate forces.
The bodyguard cursed loudly, turning his back to me to face the incoming storm.
"Get her ready to move, kid! I'll buy you a window!"
But their war didn't matter to me anymore. The syndicate was burning, the clan was doing its job as a distraction, and I had already secured the prize. I didn't care who survived the desert tonight; I only came here for the bounty.
As the guard rushed back into the fray, I stepped into the deepest, pitch-black recess of the cavernous rocks and deactivated the illusion spell for the final time.
The horrific transformation tore through me with familiar, agonizing violence. The pristine flesh of the fourteen-year-old boy dissolved into ash. Inside my mouth, my regenerated tongue vaporized, locking me back into absolute, freezing silence. My left eye shriveled away into a hollow, charred socket, and the jagged ridges of my permanent Glasgow smile ripped violently back open across my cheeks. My left arm dissipated into nothingness, leaving my sleeve pinned limply against my side. And then, with a wet, thunderous CRACK, my massive, crimson blood wings violently sprouted from my shoulder blades, shredding the layered merchant garments to pieces.
[DNA trace depleted. Shapeshift deactivated.]
Eirene Rynd had returned.
Without a single moment of hesitation, I gripped the heavy canvas bundle containing Oksana's severed head tightly with my lone right hand. I crouched low, launched myself out of the rocky crevice, and snapped my massive blood wings forward.
With a powerful, concussive burst of wind, I rocketed straight up into the midnight sky, leaving the roaring fires, the clashing steel, and the dying screams of the mountain pass far below me. The cool air rushed against my scarred face, washing away the suffocating stench of cartel perfume and blood.
Fixing my lone right eye on the distant, glittering horizon, I flew at a breakneck speed directly toward the central library of Caria City. The contract was closed, the ledger was stained in blood, and the mission was officially done.