Third-Person POV...
In the opulent, sprawling deluxe Conference Suite, situated at the pinnacle of the majestic BlackMoon Hotel, a sea of elegantly attired individuals found themselves ensnared in a colossal, shimmering Mana barrier, expertly crafted by a masterful magical artifact.
The barrier pulsed with an eerie, translucent blue glow, its surface rippling like water yet solid as steel, trapping nearly fifty hostages within its confines.
The air was heavy with the weight of desperation as the captives, clad in designer finery—business moguls, socialites, wealthy merchants, and influential guild members—thrashed about in a frenzy of distress, their faces etched with the deep lines of terror and panic.
Women sobbed quietly, clutching their expensive handbags as if they were lifelines. Men in tailored suits pounded futilely against the barrier, their fists meeting unyielding resistance. Children cried in their parents' arms, too young to understand the danger but old enough to feel the overwhelming fear permeating the room.
The very fabric of their privileged existence seemed to be unraveling before their eyes, as they realized they had been taken hostage in a daring, high-stakes operation that had turned their celebration into a nightmare.
Outside the glittering, ethereal barrier, two imposing figures stood sentinel, their piercing gazes scanning the room with unnerving intensity, as if daring anyone to attempt escape or resistance.
Their imposing physiques, honed to perfection through years of brutal training and combat, exuded an aura of danger that made even the bravest among the hostages shrink back in fear.
One was a towering man with a scarred face, his arms crossed over his massive chest, a cruel smirk playing at his lips as he watched the captives squirm. The other was leaner but no less dangerous, his hand resting casually on the hilt of a wicked-looking blade, his cold eyes promising swift death to anyone foolish enough to cause trouble.
Meanwhile, a third figure, seemingly the mastermind behind this daring operation, stood apart from the others near the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Cinber City's glittering skyline.
His silhouette was framed against the night lights, his posture radiating confidence and authority. Unlike his subordinates, he wore an expression of calculated calm, though tension simmered just beneath the surface.
This was the leader of the betrayal—the one who had orchestrated the entire scheme to sell advanced weapons to the Nexus Organization while holding Cinber City's elite for ransom.
...
As he stood there, lost in thought, staring out at the city that had no idea of the drama unfolding in this hotel, he muttered to himself in a low, gravelly tone, "Call, Sly Knightess..."
The words hung in the air like a challenge, a summoning of the mysterious broker who had facilitated this entire operation.
The earpiece on his left ear, a sleek and futuristic device that blended seamlessly with his appearance, glimmered with a soft, pulsing green light as it sprang to life, establishing connection with precision and speed.
The line connected in mere seconds, and a deep, distinctly feminine voice spoke on the other end—smooth as silk, dripping with amusement, its sly tone a stark contrast to the man's growing unease.
Before he could speak, she beat him to it with characteristic playfulness: "My, my~ Calling so soon? Missing me already?"
The man's jaw tightened, his patience already wearing thin. "Knightess, we have a situation," he said, his words dripping with gravity, ignoring her teasing tone. "The hostages have been secured, and we've already transmitted our demands to the Hunter's Association. Everything is proceeding according to plan. Contact Nexus Organization immediately—we need confirmation on the weapons exchange timeline."
His grip on the communication device tightened, knuckles white with tension, as he waited for confirmation.
But instead of the professional response he expected, what came back made his blood run cold.
A voice like silk and smoke whispered in his ear, equal parts slyness and playfulness, with an undercurrent of something darker—amusement at his expense.
"Hmmm~ About that..." she drawled, drawing out the words in a way that immediately set off alarm bells. "I'm afraid I can't do that."
The man's eyes narrowed dangerously, his anger simmering just below the surface. His voice dropped to a threatening growl. "What do you mean you 'can't do that'? We had an agreement, Knightess. You brokered this deal. Your compensation was already paid."
The voice on the other end chuckled—a low, throaty sound that sent shivers down the man's spine, not from attraction but from the predatory quality it carried.
"Oh, the deal is quite finished, I assure you," she said, her words dripping with barely concealed amusement. "It's just that... well, how do I put this delicately? Someone has had the... ahem... *misfortune* of killing your comrades on the lower floors."
She paused, letting the words sink in, before continuing with mock sympathy that was clearly insincere.
"All eight of them, actually. And from what my sources tell me, he's making quite the bloody path upward. I'd estimate... oh, about ten minutes before he reaches your location?"
The man's face darkened like a thundercloud, his eyes blazing with fury as the implications crashed down on him. His voice rose to a roar that made even his subordinates flinch.
"WHAT?! Who?!" he demanded, his composure shattering completely. "Who is behind this? Give me a name, Knightess! NOW!"
The voice on the other end laughed again—a genuine, delighted sound that was completely at odds with the severity of the situation. It was the laugh of someone watching chaos unfold from a safe distance and thoroughly enjoying the show.
"Oh my~ Such temper!" she teased, clearly savoring his distress. "You know I'm just a humble information broker, darling. How would I possibly know such sensitive details?"
The sarcasm was so thick it was practically dripping through the connection.
The man's anger boiled over, his face flushing red with rage. "You DO know! I can hear it in your voice, you manipulative witch! Tell me WHO!"
But instead of an answer, he heard only the soft, mocking sound of her voice one last time:
"Good luck~ You're going to need it."
*Click.*
The line went dead.
Silence crashed down like a physical weight.
The man stood frozen for a heartbeat, the implications of what he'd just heard warring with disbelief in his mind. Eight trained operatives, dead? In less than an hour? Impossible. And yet...
His face contorted with fury, veins bulging at his temples. With a roar of pure rage, he ripped the earpiece from his ear, his movements violent and jerky, and smashed it to the ground with a vicious curse.
"THAT SLY BITCH!" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the suite and causing several hostages to cry out in renewed fear. "She knows! She knows EXACTLY who it is, but she won't tell me!"
The earpiece lay in pieces at his feet, a symbol of his frustration and the realization that he'd been played—that whatever information broker had facilitated this deal had known it would fail and had simply watched to see what would happen.
His two subordinates exchanged worried glances. The scarred one spoke up hesitantly: "Boss... should we prepare for—"
"SHUT UP!" the leader snapped, his mind racing. "Let me think!"
But even as he tried to formulate a plan, a cold certainty settled in his gut.
Someone was coming.
Someone dangerous enough to kill eight trained hunters in under an hour.
And that someone was heading straight for them.
...
Meanwhile, thousands of miles away...
In the southern part of the Sera Continent, nestled within the Fers Domain in Svar City, stood a luxurious villa that exuded opulence from every angle—a monument to wealth and technological sophistication that would make even the richest merchants green with envy.
This particular villa boasted grandeur with its sweeping modern architecture, crystalline windows that seemed to capture and refract light in impossible ways, and meticulously manicured gardens that looked like they'd been transplanted from an emperor's palace.
Inside one of the many lavishly adorned rooms—specifically, a personal operations center that would make military command stations jealous—the walls were not mere walls but canvases for information dominance.
They were covered from floor to ceiling with an array of futuristic holographic screens, each displaying intricate data streams, surveillance feeds from across multiple cities, stock market fluctuations, hunter guild communications, and countless other information channels.
The room itself was a symphony of advanced technology far beyond what was commercially available. Consoles with interfaces that responded to gesture and thought, holographic projections that shifted and reorganized data with fluid grace, quantum-encrypted communication arrays, and various other devices that hummed softly with barely contained computational power.
It was the nerve center of an information empire—the workspace of someone who dealt in the most valuable currency in the world: knowledge.
Amidst this symphony of technology sat a mature and strikingly beautiful young woman who seemed almost incongruous with her surroundings. She appeared to be in her mid-twenties, though something about her eyes suggested she might be older—or simply far more experienced with the darker sides of the world than her youthful appearance suggested.
Her hair, a unique and eye-catching shade of greyish silver that seemed to shimmer with its own internal light, cascaded down her shoulders in elegant waves that framed a face of remarkable beauty—sharp, intelligent features softened by an almost catlike quality of playful mischief.
Her piercing black eyes, framed by long lashes that gave her an almost doll-like appearance, gleamed with intelligence and barely contained amusement as they flickered across multiple data streams simultaneously.
Most surprisingly, she wore cute, comfortable pajamas—soft pink with little cartoon characters—that contrasted sharply with the deadly seriousness of her surroundings and the nature of her work. It was a deliberate choice, a reminder that even information brokers who dealt in life and death could have their whimsical side.
She had just ended the call with the now-panicking leader, and a playful, almost mischievous expression was evident on her beautiful face as she removed the communication earpiece and tossed it aside with casual grace.
"Men are so *predictable* when they're afraid," she murmured to herself with a small, satisfied smile. "Anger, bluster, threats... never stops to think that maybe, just maybe, he's already lost."
Turning her attention to one of the larger central screens with a gesture, her expression shifted subtly from playful amusement to something more complex—intrigue mixed with genuine interest and perhaps a hint of something deeper, more personal.
The screen flickered to life with crystal-clear footage from internal hotel security cameras she'd hacked into hours ago. It showed a handsome figure, his form adorned with a magnificent crimson-bladed spear still dripping with fresh blood, navigating through the smoke-filled corridors of the BlackMoon Hotel's third floor with the confidence of someone who owned every space he walked through.
It was Riyan Descartes.
Even through the surveillance feed, his presence was commanding—the way he moved, the cold determination in his eyes, the absolute lack of hesitation in his actions. This was not a boy playing at being dangerous. This was a predator in his element.
A sly, appreciative smile played on her lips, betraying a hint of playful amusement mixed with calculated curiosity and something that might have been admiration.
"Ooooh~, Young Master Riyan," she murmured softly, her voice taking on a tone of genuine interest that was rare for someone in her profession. "Look at you, all grown up and so *deliciously* dangerous now."
She leaned forward slightly, her black eyes tracking his every movement on screen with laser focus, watching as he effortlessly dispatched his enemies with a combination of raw power and refined technique that was honestly quite impressive.
"That spear work... those techniques..." she whispered, her analytical mind cataloging every detail. "Raging Fire Spear Art, executed with precision that shouldn't be possible for someone his age. And that darkness affinity... fascinating."
Her fingers danced across a holographic interface, pulling up additional feeds, cross-referencing data, building a more complete picture of what was unfolding.
"Let's see how you finish this little performance, shall we?" she said, settling back into her chair with the air of someone about to watch their favorite show.
But then, as she reviewed another data stream—this one tracking approaching Hunter teams—her eyes suddenly widened slightly. A spark of realization flickered across her features, causing her to sit up straighter with renewed focus and something that looked almost like concern.
"Oh my..." she breathed, her playful expression shifting into something more serious. "Oh, this just got *much* more interesting."
Her fingers flew across interfaces with practiced speed, pulling up a specific file—one marked with high-priority classification codes and multiple security locks that she bypassed with ease.
A profile materialized before her, showing information on someone else who would soon be at the BlackMoon Hotel.
Someone who knew Riyan.
Someone who might complicate things considerably.
"*She* will also be there," she whispered to herself, the implications of this revelation causing her mind to race with possibilities and potential complications. A slow, almost predatory smile spread across her beautiful face. "Oh, this is going to be absolutely *delicious* to watch."
In that moment, the room seemed to hum with anticipation, the screens casting an ethereal blue-white glow on her determined, intrigued expression.
With calculated precision born from years of practice, she began to manipulate the devices and interfaces around her with fluid gestures, each tap and command a step towards positioning herself to observe—and perhaps influence—the chaos that was about to unfold.
She pulled up additional surveillance feeds, tracking not just Riyan but also the approaching Hunter teams, the panicking hijackers on the fourth floor, and one other figure whose approach she monitored with particular interest.
"Young Master Riyan," she said softly, addressing the image on screen as if he could hear her, her voice carrying notes of amusement, curiosity, and something almost like affection. "You've grown so much more interesting since I last saw you. I wonder... will you remember me when we finally meet again?"
She zoomed in on his face, studying those cold, determined eyes, and her smile widened.
"No... probably not. You were so young then, and I was just another face in the shadows." She leaned back, crossing her legs elegantly. "But I've been watching you, Young Master. Watching you transform from that pathetic 'King of Dog Lickers' into... this."
Her eyes gleamed with genuine appreciation.
"And now you're about to come face to face with *her*..." She chuckled softly. "This reunion is going to be absolutely perfect. I almost wish I could be there in person to see it."
Almost.
But she was safer here, in her fortress of information and technology, watching the pieces move across her board.
After all, that's what information brokers did best—observe, calculate, and occasionally nudge things in more entertaining directions.
And Riyan Descartes's story was proving to be the most entertaining thing she'd watched in years.
*To Be Continued...*
...
**Q&A CORNER**
**Questions for Readers:**
1. **Who is this mysterious "Sly Knightess" information broker?** What's her connection to Riyan? Why does she seem to know him personally?
2. **Who is the "she" that will also be at the hotel?** Someone from Riyan's past? Someone who knows him well enough to complicate things?
3. **Why is the information broker so interested in Riyan specifically?** Is it just professional curiosity, or something more personal?
4. **The three remaining hijackers on the fourth floor now know someone is coming—how will this change the confrontation?**
5. **What do you think will happen when Riyan encounters this mysterious "she"?** Friend? Enemy? Someone from his past life or current life?
Drop your theories and predictions! I love reading your thoughts!
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Riyan reaches the fourth floor where the strongest three hijackers await, now warned and prepared. But they're not the only surprise waiting for him. The mysterious "she" approaches. The final confrontation begins!