Whistle~
A sharp whistle cut through the air—then another, and another. Three of the boys let out low, leering notes as their eyes settled on Felicity. Her pitch black baseball cap obscured most of her face, but the rain had turned her clothes into a second skin, outlining every curve with a sculptor's precision. She didn't need to pose; the storm had done it for her.
Riven's eyes narrowed, a flicker of raw lust and fascination surfacing in their depths. From his vantage point, hal-seated, half-crouched, he caught more of her features. For a moment, he almost mistook her for a celebrity.
But he knew all the high-profile women in Blue Star City. His father's role as a congressman had brought him into the orbits of elite circles—he had shaken hands, made smirks, even flirted with a few. And yet, he didn't recognize this girl.
Felicity.
She stepped forward, calm and deliberate, her presence chilling enough to silence the jeers. The warmth drained from the air, replaced by a crisp, razor-thin cold that made Riven's cronies lift their makeshift weapons—a baseball bat, and even a broken mop stick.
Her voice, when it came, was laced with frost.
"Let her go."
Riven tilted his head, smirking. "This is my territory. Or haven't you seen? The world order has ended. That means the strong get what they want."
His grin widened. "And that includes you."
Nero and Tevin tensed as they stepped in behind Felicity, unsure whether to support or intervene. Their breaths misted in the rain.
Without a word, Felicity unsheathed her twin short swords. She lowered herself slightly, the blades glinting with menace. One of Riven's cronies lunged, shouting as he stabbed with his mop handle.
Felicity moved.
She took a single, fluid step. Her blade slashed across his thigh, and before he even cried out, she had ducked past him. A second horizontal cut tore through his back, sending him sprawling to the wet ground, screaming.
Before the others could even register what had happened, Felicity vanished.
She reappeared behind another boy, and his body jerked forward. A wide crimson blossom spread from the center of his abdomen before he collapsed.
Nero's eyes widened, stunned. Tevin's mouth tightened. These were high schoolers—barely older than kids.
They hadn't expected this.
A silent thought flitted across Merek's mind when he noticed their hesitation.
'When she was slaughtering zombies, didn't she see their uniforms? Is that what's bothering them now? Is it different because these boys are still… human?'
The irony struck him hard.
Why am I not affected?
He'd never so much as waved a knife in anger back on Earth. He was just a quiet artist, a dreamer with ink-stained fingers and a passion for creating masterpieces. Of course, he created none.
But now… there was no horror. No guilt. Just… calculation.
He stood still, drenched, brows furrowing deeply.
Was this who he truly was beneath the surface—someone who craved blood?
Or was it the echo of something else…
The memories of souls he'd bonded?
The lingering taste from the memory cores of the Vultures?
He didn't have the answer.
And before he could ponder it further, the fifth cronie fell, his scream cut short by a slash to the neck that gurgled more than it cried. He crumpled in the rain like a puppet with cut strings.
Riven rose slowly from Carla, whose tear-streaked face was turned to the asphalt. She no longer fought him; she no longer had the strength. Slaps had drained her fire, but at least, not her dignity.
Riven's smirk faded as he focused on Merek, sensing something strange—an unnatural pressure, hostile and old. It pulsed from the man like a barely-contained storm.
Still, fear never touched him. His class skill gave him confidence.
With a flick of his hand, a dozen crystalline projectiles coalesced in the air, spinning like tiny, glowing icicles. They hovered, unnaturally still for a breathless second, then shot forward in a starburst pattern toward Felicity.
They hissed through the rain.
But Felicity had already activated her skill: [Heightened Perception].
A zone bloomed around her mind—a circle of omniscient calm. She didn't need her eyes to see, didn't need her ears to hear. The bullets entered the zone, and suddenly they were slow. Too slow.
She exhaled once.
And moved.
Teleporting three times in rapid succession, Felicity narrowly evaded the hail of ice bullets. Each blink of her body left behind a wisp of mist, her form vanishing and reappearing in a dance of precision and speed.
But just as she evaded the last wave, a new barrage appeared—twice as many ice bullets, gleaming white-blue in the rain, hovering in the air like silent predators ready to strike
Whoosh!
She blinked again—this time appearing against the damp side of a nearby building. Her back touched the cold concrete for a breathless instant, then she launched herself forward like a coiled spring released. She vanished mid-air, teleported once, then again.
By the time Felicity landed, her boots struck solid ground—Carla lay directly between her feet.
The air tensed. The other two cronies fled.
Riven reacted swiftly. With a snap of his hand, he conjured a thick ice wall behind himself, the largest yet—an impenetrable slab of glistening white.
He lunged forward at the same moment, and just in time—Felicity's blade struck but could only sink a couple of inches into the dense frost before being halted.
Riven spun, eyes burning with fury, and pointed toward Nero.
Six ice bullets burst forth, streaking through the rain, spinning with deadly intent.
Nero's eyes widened. Panic surged in his veins, he braced to dodge—
But then Felicity's hand moved.
With a whip of her wrist, she hurled one of her twin short swords at Nero.
At the same time, she drove the second blade directly through Riven's torso. The force of the strike made his body jerk back.
Then—she vanished.
She had hurled the blade, not at Nero, but at the bullets streaking toward him. Now, mid-spin, she reappeared beside it, snatching it from the air and slashing.
Slice—slice—slice—
One by one, she cleaved the bullets apart mid-flight. Shards of ice exploded harmlessly to the ground.
Riven stood frozen, his mouth slightly open. He looked down.
The other short sword was embedded deep in his chest, crimson beginning to blossom around it, darkening the fabric.
He fell to his knees, trembling, lips quivering with disbelief. His pupils dilated in horror.
"I—I'm the son of Jeffery Taleth," he stammered, voice shaky and slurred. "My father is a congressman… Heal me and you'll be spared. Otherwise—there will be no place for you in this world—ack!"
A gout of blood spilled from his mouth, staining his chin.
Felicity approached with deliberate steps, each one as quiet as snowfall. She crouched before him, her eyes unreadable, her presence calm and unwavering.
Even in his final moments, Riven couldn't comprehend how someone with such a delicate, disarming beauty could be capable of such ruthless precision. Her face, beneath the brim of her cap, looked almost too serene, too gentle for a battlefield.
"Taleth," she said softly.
Then she smiled, radiant and untouchable, like the first warm light of morning after a long storm.
"I'm Felicity Heart."
Riven's breath caught.
Ah—now he understood.
A faint memory stirred. A face on a picture. A photograph in an old briefing folder.
This wasn't just any girl.
She was the daughter of the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff—the second most powerful man in all of Blue Star.
Felicity walked past his crumpled form without a second glance and bent down to help Carla to her feet. Her expression softened, the harsh ice in her eyes melting into warmth.
"It's okay," she whispered, her voice steady as she steadied Carla.
Then she turned.
Her gaze swept over the others—Merek, Nero, and Tevin.
Ice Cold.
There was no malice in her eyes, only disappointment. A quiet, cutting judgment that said more than words ever could.
She hadn't expected gratitude. She hadn't even expected praise.
But she had expected them to stand up to the crime they all witnessed. Instead, they stood there.
And that… that hurt more than any blade.
She said nothing, just moved past them, accepting the silence as her answer.
Nero's eyes remained on the bodies—the fallen boys, their youthful faces now frozen in pain and disbelief. His throat was tight, his breath shallow.
He didn't know what to say. What could he?
And yet…
Even with blood on her hands, even with the brutal efficiency of her movements, his feelings toward Felicity hadn't wavered.
Not even slightly.
As Felicity was about to walk past Merek, he shot her a glance. "I'll go get the school bus. You did well."
With that, he turned to the left and slowly vanished into the downpour with his armoured servants or whatever they were.
Felicity froze. She wanted to scoff, glare at him like looks could kill yet even with his hostile energy and unacceptable selfishness, she had to admit.
He was a bit reliable in the end.
Unfortunately, Felicity had no idea Merek was threatened by her strength. He had deducted that his level might be equal or a bit lower than hers.
And so, it was time to level up.