The night sky was still burning from the previous clash, the acrid scent of smoke and scorched earth lingering in the cold air. Shattered stone and molten craters spread across the once-grand mansion grounds, evidence of the battle that had pushed both men to their limits.
Aron stood amidst the ruin, his breath calm but his gaze razor sharp. His violet eyes gleamed dangerously beneath the moonlight. He gripped his Shen Blades in an 'X' formation, their black-and-purple glow pulsing like a living heart.
A soft hum resonated from the blades. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, yet Aron felt it deep within his bones. The hidden function of the Shen Blades was finally activated.
[Shen Blade: Hidden Function Activated]
[Energy Absorption: Limited to 3 uses | Max storage: 5000 Energy per use]
The moment the system notification appeared, the twin blades drank in the surrounding residual energy. Wisps of power, remnants of Cornwell's devastating attacks, streamed toward them like moths to a flame. Aron smirked, his mind steady despite the overwhelming surge.
"You thought you were the only one playing with fire," he muttered under his breath.
Then, with precise control, he condensed the stored energy into three impossibly dense spheres. They were so small they appeared particle-sized, nearly invisible to the naked eye, hanging just before his crossed blades. Their presence was betrayed only by the faintest ripple in the surrounding space.
Aron didn't swing his blades this time. Instead, he simply held them in place, like a predator waiting for the perfect strike.
Across the battlefield, Cornwell panted heavily, his body trembling from the extreme energy expenditure of his last attack. His crimson coat was singed, his once-perfect posture faltering. When the light from their clash faded, he narrowed his eyes, scanning for signs of Aron's next move.
He couldn't see the particle-sized spheres. But his instincts screamed at him.
"That bastard is up to something again," he hissed, his voice hoarse. His gaze darted to Aron's twin blades—only for them to vanish into thin air.
Cornwell's pupils dilated. What?! Where did his weapons go? What kind of trick is this?!
Panic clawed at his mind. He immediately formed a defensive stance, drawing what little energy remained in his exhausted body.
On the other side, Aron was calm, almost eerily so. He stored away his Shen Blades for two reasons: their durability had dropped dangerously low, and without the blades drawing Cornwell's attention, his plan would have a higher chance of success.
The three invisible energy spheres remained exactly where they were, floating silently between him and Cornwell. With the blades gone, Cornwell wouldn't focus on the subtle energy fluctuations they emitted.
Aron's lips curled into a predatory grin. Well, now let's hope he takes the bait... Heh, and I remember his energy reserves are completely drained. This is going to be fun.
He began walking forward, each step deliberate. The spheres moved with his will, gliding through the air like ghosts.
Cornwell instinctively stepped back, his chest rising and falling as primal fear gnawed at his mind. "Stay back," he warned, his voice breaking. "I don't know what you're doing, but—"
Aron tilted his head slightly, his grin widening. "Well," he said softly, his voice low and mocking, "it's my turn to attack, right? Let's see how you survive this."
The words were like a dagger to Cornwell's gut. His instincts screamed louder than ever. He stumbled back another step, sweat beading on his brow.
Aron's voice dropped to a whisper. "Shoot."
The first energy sphere fired forward.
It was so fast, even Aron's enhanced senses barely tracked it. Cornwell didn't even see it—he only felt a sudden, burning sensation in his abdomen. He looked down in shock to find a minuscule, perfectly round hole in his stomach.
A heartbeat later, the pain hit.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Cornwell's scream tore through the ruins, raw and guttural. He clutched at his belly, collapsing to his knees as blood spilled through his trembling fingers.
Aron's expression didn't change. His life, shaped by countless battles and betrayals, had long since hardened his heart. Torture or killing—it no longer fazed him.
"Shoot," he murmured again.
The second sphere launched, striking Cornwell's shoulder joint. A sickening CRACK echoed through the courtyard. Cornwell's right arm went limp, dangling uselessly as he howled.
"UGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!" His scream was weaker this time, his body giving out as he toppled fully to the ground, convulsing from the pain. His breathing turned ragged, each gasp a struggle.
Aron approached slowly, like a judge about to deliver a final sentence. He crouched beside Cornwell, his gaze sharp and unyielding.
"I'm just confirming this," Aron said evenly, "but is Nigoshin hiding on the fifth floor's Azrokel Lake?"
Cornwell's eyes widened. He tried to lift his head, but his broken shoulder sent a white-hot spike of agony through him. His neck refused to move.
Through clenched teeth, he hissed, "I don't know how you know about that place... or who you really are..." His lips twisted into a bloody, pained grin. "But our boss... he's stronger than you can possibly imagine. You'll die the moment you meet him... hahaha!"
Aron's expression darkened. He shook his head slowly. "You really don't know who you're talking to, huh?" His voice dropped to a chilling whisper. "Well, I want to see what ace he has up his sleeve."
He stood, his shadow falling over Cornwell's trembling form. "Shoot."
The final sphere pierced Cornwell's heart cleanly.
Cornwell jerked once, his mouth opening in a silent scream. Then he went still.
Aron exhaled slowly, not allowing himself to relax. His instincts were still on high alert—someone had been watching the battle in secret. And Akresman still needed to die.
Without warning, Aron's form blurred. In a flash, he appeared deep within the underground passages beneath the mansion, directly behind Akresman.
The Duke was clutching something tightly in his hands as he fled, desperation etched across his face. When Aron saw the object, his eyes widened briefly—but his expression quickly returned to cold focus.
With a single, fluid motion, Aron summoned his Shen Blades and swung.
Akresman's head separated from his body, rolling across the stone floor. His lifeless form collapsed a moment later.
Aron knelt and picked up the mysterious object. He studied it for a heartbeat before storing it in his inventory.
'Why is this thing here on such a low floor?' he wondered.'Is someone from the higher floors interfering? ...I'll think about it later. For now, it's mine.'
Reappearing in the courtyard, Aron surveyed the battlefield. Only debris and smoldering craters remained.
Then, without turning, he spoke aloud. "Why don't you come out now? The fight is over... and if you want to live, you should show yourself."
A ripple passed through the air as a figure materialized from the shadows. It was a young man dressed in crimson, a distinctive crest gleaming on his collar.
He bowed respectfully. "I apologize for my rudeness, but I was following my lady's orders."
Aron's eyes narrowed. System, he commanded silently, show me his status.
[Name: Iresom Benzoras]
[Title: Butler of Queen Lasandra]
[LVL: 35 (Real LVL: 79) - Suppressed by Floor System]
Stats: STR: 245 {Real STR: 956}
AGL: 236 {Real AGL: 897}
VIT: 540 {Real VIT: 1408}
STM: 298 {Real STM: 995}
INT: 300 {Real INT: 1032}
LCK: 180 {Real LCK: 704}
[Warning! Higher Floor Being Detected. Do NOT engage in combat.]
Aron's breath caught slightly. It wasn't the stats that unnerved him—it was the title.
'Lasandra?!' His mind raced back to his first encounters with her in the game. Back then, she'd seemed like nothing more than a powerful NPC.
But now... in reality... she was far more dangerous than he'd ever imagined.
'Damn it!' he cursed inwardly. Why is she here?! If she's involved, this just got a whole lot more complicated...'
His thoughts were interrupted as Iresom straightened and spoke. "Young sir, my lady has requested your presence. If you do not come willingly..." His tone remained polite, but there was a sharp edge beneath it. "Then I will be forced to use other means."
Aron stared at him for a long moment, cursing silently.'I'm screwed. If I fight him here, I'll die...but I don't want to go to her...she will...ughhh!'
Finally, he exhaled sharply. "Fine," he said aloud, his tone resigned. "Lead the way."
Iresom's expression remained neutral. "Yes, sir. Please follow me."
Without another word, he took off running. His speed was incredible, a blur of motion. Aron followed close behind, his body straining but keeping pace. When Iresom noticed, a faint smile crossed his face, and he increased his speed even further.
The two raced through the darkened city streets, the ruins of battle fading into the distance. After ten relentless minutes, they reached the very heart of Sotten City.
There, bathed in silver moonlight, stood a grand mansion—towering, majestic, and ominous.
Aron stared at it, his gut twisting with unease. Whatever awaited him inside, he knew one thing for certain.
This was only the beginning.