Chapter 42: The Count’s Wrath

I stood over the fallen beast, its deep violet flesh now still, the silver seams that once pulsed with life dulled to a lifeless sheen. The boss creature’s brighter silver eyes, once aglow with commanding intent, stared blankly into the void, its jagged claws limp against the blood-streaked floor. The psychic pulse that had staggered us moments ago had faded, leaving only the crackling of the laboratory’s flames and the heavy scent of burning chemicals in its wake. My black cloak settled around me, its tattered edges brushing the debris, my white mask gleaming with a quiet menace as I surveyed the aftermath. The sword in my hand, still warm from the kill, dripped with blackened blood, a testament to the decisive strike that had severed its strings.


Around me, the forty humanoids—once a coordinated horde under the beast’s control—had devolved into mindless husks. Their glowing green eyes flickered erratically, their stitched limbs flailing without purpose, their growls reduced to incoherent snarls. The mercenaries, rallied by Thalos’s shaky command, struck with renewed vigor, their blades hacking through the disorganized mass. The red-haired girl slashed with her curved dagger, her bright locks flaring as she felled one with a precise thrust to its chest. The silver-haired girl wove her longsword in a shimmering arc, severing limbs with graceful efficiency, while the amber-haired girl drove her short blade into another’s skull, her golden-orange hair catching the firelight. The sapphire-haired girl danced with her rapier, piercing throats with fluid strikes, her deep blue braids whipping, and the ivory-haired girl stabbed with her jagged knife, her pale hair glowing faintly amidst the chaos. Together, we carved through the remnants, their bodies collapsing into a heap of twitching flesh, the last of their threat extinguished.


I tilted my head, the curved smile of my mask catching the flickering light, my voice a low, velvety purr laced with detached amusement. “A conductor falls, and the orchestra dissolves,” I murmured, my tone theatrical, as if narrating the end of a poorly scripted play. Thalos, his deep green robes tattered and his brown hair matted with sweat, wiped blood from his sword, his pale face a mix of relief and exhaustion. “Is it over?” he asked, his voice trembling with hope.


“Not yet,” I replied, my gaze sweeping the smoky chamber, my amusement tinged with anticipation. “The stage holds more actors.” The mercenaries nodded, their breaths heavy but their spirits lifted, while the girls paused, their eyes darting toward the wreckage.


The stench of chemicals and burning flesh hung thick in the air as I moved through the wreckage, the crunch of shattered glass from broken experiment chambers echoing beneath my boots. The lab’s sickly green glow cast eerie shadows across the walls, the flames licking higher, melting metal and charring stone. My eyes, sharp behind the mask, scanned the dimly lit room, searching for signs of life amidst the destruction. The glass cells, some still intact, housed grotesque experiments—twisted limbs and warped faces frozen in silent agony, their greenish liquid leaking onto the floor. Most were still, their life extinguished by the fire or the collapse, but a faint movement caught my attention.


There, in a separate glass cell at the chamber’s far end, another subject floated suspended in an eerie green liquid. Black hair splayed like a dark, silken veil, her pale face partially obscured by the thick fluid, her chest rising and falling in shallow, labored breaths—alive, but barely. Her features, delicate yet marked by the ordeal.Her face hidden by the liquid’s murkiness, her breathing equally faint, suggesting another survivor plucked from the Count’s experiments. The cell’s reinforced glass, though cracked and webbed with fractures, held firm, a fragile barrier between them and the chaos.


A sharp intake of breath came from behind me. The amber-haired girl stepped forward, her golden-orange locks glinting as she peered through the smoke, her voice trembling with a mix of hope . “She’s alive,” she whispered, her eyes locking onto the violet-haired woman, her comrade, a tear tracing a path through the soot on her cheek.


My gaze lingered on the violet-haired figure, and as the glass began to crack under the girls’ efforts, her eyelids fluttered weakly. For a fleeting, electric moment, her violet eyes met mine through the liquid’s haze—deep, luminous, and filled with a flicker of recognition, a silent acknowledgment that pierced the mask’s barrier. The connection was brief, her gaze softening before her eyelids closed again, leaving an imprint of intrigue beneath my composed exterior. The black-haired woman remained still, her presence a mystery yet to unfold.


The red-haired girl and silver-haired girl moved swiftly, striking the glass with their curved dagger and longsword, the cracks widening until it shattered with a muted crash. The green liquid spilled onto the floor in a viscous wave, and the girls caught both women—the violet-haired comrade and the unknown black-haired woman—lifting them gently. The amber-haired girl cradled the violet-haired figure, her arms trembling with emotion, while the sapphire-haired girl and ivory-haired girl supported the black-haired woman, their movements careful but resolute, ensuring both were secure.


A flicker of movement in the distance snapped my focus. A shadow shifted through the smoke, accompanied by the faint clink of armored boots. Someone was coming—someone with purpose. My hand tightened on my sword, the runes along the blade glowing faintly red, ready for the next act.


“Take them and leave,” I ordered, keeping my voice low but firm, my tone brooking no dissent. The amber-haired girl hesitated, her gaze lingering on the violet-haired woman’s pale face. “But—” she began, her voice faltering.


“Go.” My tone sharpened, a razor’s edge cutting through her doubt. “Do it quietly.” The girls nodded, retreating into the shadows with their burdens, the violet-haired woman’s limp form cradled by the amber-haired girl, the black-haired woman supported by the sapphire-haired and ivory-haired girls. My sharp eyes caught another glimpse of the violet-haired girl as they vanished—her head tilted slightly, a faint breath escaping her lips, a silent testament to her fragile hold on life.


The moment they slipped away, a furious voice shattered the silence. “How dare you step into my lab?!” The words boomed through the chamber, laced with rage and mana, the air pulsing with a suffocating intensity. I turned to see him—Count Vareon Faulmont—emerging from the smoke, his crimson robes torn and singed, his silver hair wild, his expression twisted with a fury that bordered on madness. His hands crackled with energy, the mana around him swirling like a storm, his dark eyes locking onto mine with burning hatred.


“You… you dare destroy my work?” he snarled, his voice a venomous hiss, his gaze sweeping the wreckage—shattered cells, fallen humanoids, the dead boss creature.


I let out a short, mocking laugh, tilting my head, the mask’s smile gleaming. “Work?” I repeated, my tone dripping with sarcasm, as if tasting the word and finding it bitter. “Kidnapping and experimenting on people—hardly something to be proud of, Count.”


Faulmont’s lips curled into a sneer, his disdain palpable. “You ignorant brat,” he spat, his voice dripping with contempt. “You have no idea what you’ve just interfered with.” His hand lifted, mana coiling violently around it, a swirling vortex of crimson and gold. “And for that, I’ll make you suffer.”


A wave of fire roared toward me, a blazing torrent that illuminated the smoke in hues of orange and red. I leaped back, rolling as the heat grazed my cloak, the fabric singeing at the edges. The flames licked the floor where I had stood, melting glass and charring debris. I glanced toward the shadows where the girls had vanished, confirming their escape with both women, then turned my focus back to Faulmont.


A sudden gust of wind tore through the lab as he unleashed another spell. Razor-sharp wind blades screamed through the air, slicing through metal and shattering debris with a high-pitched whine. I twisted to the side, narrowly avoiding a blade that embedded itself in the wall behind me, sparks flying as it struck stone. “Tch… persistent bastard,” I muttered, my voice a low growl, assessing the Count’s mana reserves.


Faulmont smirked, his eyes glinting with malice. “Scared?” he taunted, his voice a mocking lilt, the mana around him flaring brighter.


I exhaled slowly, my mind shifting gears. Stage 4. This wasn’t going to be easy. “Fire won’t work, wind won’t work…” I murmured, raising my hand, electric sparks dancing between my fingers. The air sizzled as I launched a bolt of lightning toward him, the streak illuminating the smoke in a brilliant flash—only for Faulmont to raise a shimmering mana barrier. The attack fizzled out on impact, the energy dissipating in a shower of sparks.


I frowned, my amusement fading into irritation. “That’s annoying.”


“Is that all?” Faulmont mocked, his laughter echoing through the chamber. “A mere child like you thinks you can challenge me?”I didn’t respond, my mind racing for a counter. This fight would drag on if I didn’t adapt. Then, an idea struck—a tactic to turn his arrogance against him. Fine. Let’s see how good your vision is in smoke.


I conjured a burst of water into the air with a flick of my wrist, the liquid shimmering briefly before I unleashed a controlled flame from my other hand. The reaction was immediate—thick steam exploded into the room, shrouding everything in a dense, blinding mist that swallowed the lab in gray. The heat intensified, the steam hissing as it met the cooler air, creating a disorienting haze.


Faulmont’s voice rang out, distorted by the fog. “You think hiding will save you?!”


I smirked, fading into the smoke, my movements silent as a shadow. No. But it will buy me time. The steam cloaked my approach, my mask’s eye slits narrowing as I circled, my sword at the ready. Faulmont’s mana pulsed, a beacon in the mist, and I waited, plotting my next move.


Then, his voice cut through again, closer now, laced with a grudging respect. “You are not bad,” he said, his tone shifting, “seeing you defeated my failed experiments,Korvax and Ravok.It was meant to control multiple, but thereafter it was still strong, and you defeated it.” His words carried a hint of surprise, a crack in his arrogance. “Impressive, but it changes nothing.”


I remained silent, my amusement deepening. A failed experiment, elevated to a puppet master—his admission fueled my resolve. The steam thickened, and I moved, a shadow weaving through the chaos, ready to turn his own stage against him.


To be continued...