Part 2
The mist had ceased to be mere weather.
Now, it was a presence.
Seiryu and Eliza moved forward without speaking.
They didn't need to.
They knew their orders, their targets, and exactly what had to be done.
Their communication transcended words—it was instinct, honed through centuries of extermination.
A sharp burst of static crackled in their earpieces before Seraphina's voice, smooth as velvet, guided them.
"Generals. Targets are 200 meters ahead."
"Remember: only the Hero is of value. The others are expendable. No additional life signs detected in the vicinity."
"Understood, Sera," Seiryu replied, his tone steady and unshaken.
"Leave the little girls to me," Eliza whispered, her smile sharpening like a blade. "Virgin blood… always has the most exquisite taste."
She licked her lips with elegance, like someone savoring sin before the first bite.
"Breaking blind faith… is a pleasure I refuse to miss."
Seiryu nodded silently. A subtle tilt of the head was enough.
Then, his figure dissolved into the folds of space, as if he had never been there at all.
The mist closed in behind him. The hunt had begun.
In a clearing dimly bathed in shadow, Junya Mori kicked the dismembered corpse of a goblin.
"See? Told you this was a walk in the park. No decent bosses, not even a halfway charismatic enemy. This is all level ten junk—beginner dungeon stuff."
Aira moved forward with her shield raised. Judith followed behind, silent.
Both were Rank A veterans from the same squad before being assigned to Junya. They could read each other with a glance.
But it was Aira who noticed it first.
The mist wasn't moving.
The mist was watching.
"Watch out!"
It wasn't a warning. It was reflex.
Her shield appeared just in time to block what descended from above.
It wasn't a creature.
It was a woman.
A black dress that flowed like smoke. Crimson eyes glowing with sickly sweetness.
A smile that promised pain.
Eliza.
"Hello, little paladin… hello, frustrated saint," she said warmly, like wine on a winter night.
"You know, there's something beautiful about watching hope fade. Let me have the honor."
Their faces froze in pure terror as the floating figure hovered with her wings fully spread, like a fallen angel.
She wasn't a warrior.
She was a living execution.
"No… it can't be… the vampires were eradicated… the Church wiped them out centuries ago…" Judith murmured, trembling, barely standing.
Eliza vanished in the blink of an eye. A moment later, she was behind the cleric, her cold breath brushing Judith's neck.
"Sorry to disappoint you, bunny. I'm more real than your faith."
Judith collapsed to her knees. Fear shattered her from within. Her fingers clutched desperately at her sacred cross, as if the symbol might repel the inevitable.
"Judith!" Junya shouted, drawing his bow.
But his heroic moment ended as soon as it began.
Seiryu appeared without warning, lifted him like he weighed nothing, and hurled him backwards with an invisible force. His body vanished among the trees.
"Our dance is elsewhere, Hero. You're not invited to Eliza's feast."
Aira stood before Judith, a living shield. Her knees shook, but her eyes stayed steady.
"I don't care what kind of monster you are… I won't let you lay a finger on our saint!"
"Holy Shield!"
A radiant barrier surged forth from her shield—solid, gleaming, seemingly impenetrable.
"I wonder…" Eliza mused with a sick delight. "What face will you make when your faith shatters?"
The vampire narrowed her eyes. A subtle, crushing energy gathered around her. The barrier cracked and shattered like brittle glass.
"Oh… sweetheart," she said playfully. "This isn't a fight. This is an execution."
Aira turned to Judith with a bittersweet smile.
"I'm sorry, Judith… looks like I won't be able to keep our promise after all."
Her head fell with a hollow thud, rolling to rest in her friend's lap.
"Airaaaaaaa!"
Judith threw herself to the ground, reaching out for her.
Her hands trembled. Her legs wouldn't respond.
Tears blurred her vision, but they couldn't erase the scene.
They couldn't silence the sickening sound of that fall.
A warm wetness spread down her thigh, an involuntary betrayal of her body, as if even her fear had overflowed into something physical.
But she didn't care.
There was no shame left. Only grief.
She crawled through the damp earth, with no dignity, no direction—only pain driving her forward.
The promise they had once made echoed in her mind, back when they first joined Junya's unit:
"We'll go home together. Always together."
But now…
She hit something.
She looked up.
Eliza.
Standing over her with a calm delight and eyes that held darkness far deeper than their crimson hue.
"Easy now, little one. You're not going to die here. Not yet."
She crouched slowly, with monstrous elegance, and cupped Judith's face in her gloved fingers—
as if holding a delicate porcelain doll. Fragile. Beautiful. Defenseless.
"Your purity… is precious. And your blood, exquisite. It would be such a waste to end you so soon."
She leaned in closer, eyes locked.
It wasn't seduction.
It was possession.
"I'll take you to Mist Valley. And there, you'll learn what it means to serve the Void… from within."
Judith tried to scream.
But the sound died in the mist.
As if the forest itself had decided she wasn't worth hearing.
With a single graceful motion, Eliza vanished—taking her new dark treasure with her.
Only her chilling, twisted laughter lingered behind.
Elsewhere…
Junya slammed into the ground with a harsh crack. He rolled across broken roots and rotting leaves until he came to a stop, gasping. His bow trembled in his hands, as if it too knew what was coming.
"Damn it…!" he growled, pushing himself up. "Who the hell are you!? Some demon general!?"
His eyes darted through the fog—tense, not with strategy, but instinct. Like an animal sensing a predator.
"Come out already! I'm not hiding from anyone!"
And then… he saw him.
Seiryu.
He wasn't walking.
He was floating.
"Junya Mori. Level 75. Summoned Hero. Rank S. Class: Archer. Stats: high mobility, critical damage. Weak magical defense. Evaluated."
"What the hell…?" Junya scowled. "What are you doing?"
"Just an old habit."
Junya didn't wait.
He fired—flames, ice, lightning. Arrows rained down in chaos, slicing through the trees, tearing the mist, burning the forest.
Comet Rain.
His strongest technique.
But Seiryu didn't move.
The arrows passed through him without even tearing his form.
An echo.
An illusion.
The real Seiryu was behind him.
"What!?"
He tried to turn and draw again but didn't get the chance.
With a flick, Seiryu shattered his wrist.
The pressure didn't come from the outside.
It came from within, as if Junya's body had decided to collapse on its own.
"Threat level: low."
Junya screamed, struggling to activate his regeneration passive. His last defense.
Nothing.
Seiryu raised a hand.
A sphere of distortion enveloped the area.
Mana froze as if time itself had died.
"You can't use your power. Not here. Not with me."
"No…! I'm a Hero! I'm above all of you!"
"You're a cockroach. Beneath all of us," Seiryu replied, voice devoid of anger or pride.
The forest branches began to move. Obedient. Acknowledging their commander's will.
They coiled around Junya with twisted gentleness.
Not crushing—restraining.
Exposing.
"What is this…!?"
"Natural containment. Scaled to your level."
Junya rose into the air without contact, like a puppet without strings. Suspended before the embodiment of the Void.
"Yamato wants you alive. So… sleep."
A wave of hypnotic magic fell over his mind.
It didn't hurt.
It simply darkened.
His consciousness slipped away.
Seiryu descended calmly, like a shadow returning to its origin.
He picked up Junya's bow from the ground with the delicate precision of a surgeon choosing a favorite tool.
"Sera. Target secured. The Hero and his weapon are in custody. Notify Lord Yamato I'm on my way back."
"Oki doki, Sei-chan~. The throne awaits," Seraphina replied in a teasing, almost mocking tone.
Without another word, Seiryu ascended into the mist, the unconscious Hero floating behind him.
All that remained… was to deliver him to his Lord.
For judgment.
Or punishment.