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Marshal stood frozen for a heartbeat, his dark cloak fluttering in the broken wind that had been stirred by Asher's arrival. The mansion's air seemed heavier, like the pressure of reality itself had shifted. Before him stood a man cloaked in nothing but black dust and raw dominance—Asher. Or as many feared him , the Gravity Demon King.
"Impossible," Marshal muttered under his breath. "He's just a naive noble who recently rose to power… He couldn't have this kind of power."
He didn't inform the rest of the guild about their former failure to take out the territory's defenses weeks ago. They thought this would be simple. A slaughter. But now… this was something else entirely.
Tony stepped forward, a venomous grin on his lips. "Why not strike the princess now? They're distracted. If we can't win, let's at least win something."
Marshal turned sharply. His voice was no longer that of a leader—but a warning made flesh.
"Do you want to die?"
Tony blinked. The glint in Marshal's shadow-covered eyes wasn't fury. It was certainty. A man who had already tasted the abyss and knew that another step forward meant getting swallowed by it.
"…No," Tony answered, voice low.
"Then fall back," Marshal commanded. "All of you retreat I will hold him off."
The surviving assassins immediately began dashing toward the shattered windows, leaping into the moonlit garden outside. Their escape was brief.
Slash.
"Argh!"
One of them stumbled as a red line bloomed across his chest coloring the garden with blood that made the flowers looked like rose. Another tried to leap a bush—only to be carved from midair, his body flung aside like a doll.
"What—who's hitting us!?"
The attackers panicked. No shadows in sight. No swords. Just pain and blood from nowhere.
"They're invisible! Something's lashing us!"
Whispers in the dark. Panic. And then paralysis.
With each stab and slice, some of them stiffened mid-run, collapsing as if strings had been cut. Their bodies twitched violently before going completely still.
In the tree tops, Lyria's eyes glowed green with fury.
"Hmph."
She jumped and slammed her hand against the soil.
"Vine Ensnare."
From the depths of the garden, glowing emerald vines erupted and coiled around the fleeing assassins like serpents with an appetite. The air itself began to shimmer with her magic, and she poured every ounce of her energy into the spell.
Several were caught instantly—thrown to the ground and pinned with bone-cracking force. One assassin resisted, slashing at the vines with twin daggers.
He roared, breaking free the others—only to feel a burning pressure in his chest. He blinked.
Another slash. Another invisible force. Blood exploded from his shoulder.
"What is this!?"
The answer came with a whisper.
"Your Nightmare."
An unseen blade pierced his thigh, and he dropped. Gasping. Shaking.
Tony, meanwhile, turned to the youngest assassin, Fin, "This is important I have something to give you "he shoved a large, redish brown glowing egg —almost the size of a human head—into his chest.
"Run. Take this and get out. I stole it from the previous queen chamber and it will fetch a lot of money to help our mum."
"What?" Fin gasped. "But we can still—"
"Shut up!" Tony barked. "You're the fastest. The quietest. The stealthiest. If anyone can vanish with this, it's you. We've failed. Go warn the Guild. Tell them what happened."
Fin's breath trembled. "But what if there's—?"
"No questions. Go!"
And with that, Fin darted off, vanishing into the moonlight with the egg wrapped tightly in cloth.
Selena reappeared as she sensed the presence of someone escaping.
"Lyria."
Lyria snapped her gaze over.
"Don't let him escape."
Lyria nodded. "Leave it to me. Can you handle the rest?"
Selena didn't flinch. Her voice was calm. Cold.
"I'll try try not to let any of them ."
Lyria launched forward, weaving between trees and branches, her magic keeping her light-footed and swift. She chased Fin with relentless speed. She summoned branches to block his path, roots to trip him up—but Fin dodged with remarkable agility, sliding, flipping, and running in sharp zigzags.
Eventually, she loosed a massive spell.
"Spinewood Spear!"
A thick tree morphed beside her and launched a massive wooden spike straight at Fin. The projectile tore through air with a shriek. Fin barely turned, raising the egg instinctively.
The spear cracked and shattered on the egg's surface—but the force knocked Fin sideways. The egg rolled into the stream nearby, out of reach.
He turned to run after it—but something in him hesitated. His instincts screamed. He clenched his teeth.
He ran the opposite direction, disappearing into the forest.
Lyria, breathless, approached the stream and knelt. She retrieved the egg, frowning at its smooth texture and unusual warmth.
"This isn't magic," she murmured. "It's… alive?"
Before she could study it further, a soft explosion rang behind her.
Back at the battlefield, Selena stood in the garden alone—surrounded by the unconscious and defeated assassins. Her dress was torn. Her arms were scratched. Her hair blew like wildfire.
The ground was littered with bodies.
One by one.
Torn down.
"Selena… how did you…?" Lyria asked, breath caught.
Selena blinked at her own hands, the veins glowing faintly purple.
"I don't know," she whispered. "But lately… I've felt stronger. Like something is waking up inside me."
Inside the mansion—where the real storm raged—Asher and Marshal clashed in a room shrouded with battle scars.
"Shadow Surge!" Marshal roared, slamming his ringed hand into the ground. Black tendrils of shadow erupted like a living abyss, devouring the floor and crawling toward Asher at full speed.
But Asher didn't move. Instead, he raised a single hand.
"Gravity: Collapse."
BOOM.
The air shifted. A dome of compressed gravity imploded downward, slamming the shadow into the floor, crushing and squeezing it like paper.
Even Marshal stumbled backward, coughing blood.
"Not… possible…" he thought to himself.
"How....how can he compress an intangible shadow his powers does not obey the laws of gravity" Marshall said aloud
Asher then answered "WHY SHOULD I OBEY THE LAWS OF GRAVITY... WHEN GRAVITY OBEYS ME"
Asher walked forward, his boots dragging craters in the marble from sheer pressure. Every step was a quake.
"YOUR SHADOWS ARE NOTHING BUT ...WEIGHTLESS DARKNESS."
He raised a finger.
"AND I. AM .WEIGHT"
A tremor cracked the walls. Marshal panicked, dashing forward with a roar, blades of darkness surrounding his fists.
Asher didn't flinch.
As Marshal struck, Asher bent the gravity behind him, vanishing from the path. In a blur, he appeared above and slammed his heel into Marshal's back, sending him crashing into the floor like a comet.
Marshal coughed violently, blood spurting from his lips.
"Physical, then," he growled, body vibrating with dark power.
He tore off his cloak and charged—spinning, flipping, his fists dancing like claws.
But Asher caught each punch. Effortlessly.
Then—he grabbed Marshal's arm, squeezed, and bones popped like twigs.
"AAAARGH!"
Marshal cried out as his entire limb crumpled in on itself.
"Why… are you this strong?" he screamed.
Asher's voice was cold.
"BECUSE YOU ARE WEAK.!!!!"
He stretched out a hand—and the room bent.
The ceiling cracked. The chandelier melted downward. All around Marshal, the very weight of existence surged in.
He screamed, body crushed under an invisible force as walls shook and floor buckled.
"YOU'RE NOT EVEN WORTH KILLING PROPERLY," Asher said, his voice distorted like the pressure of a black hole. " BUT I'LL MAKE IT HURT."
He clenched his hand.
CRACK.
Every joint in Marshal's body snapped. His ribs imploded. His arms twisted.
Marshal shrieked in agony.
Then, with blood pouring from his mouth, he bit down.
Hard.
SNAP.
His tongue severed.
He choked. Twitched.
His head collapsed.
And he dead.
Meanwhile, on the hill overlooking the mansion, Whisper, the vice leader of the assassin guild, watched in horror through her scope. Her arrows were gone. Her eyes widened as she saw Marshal fall.
"No…" she muttered. "They… they were supposed to win."
Her grip on the bow tightened.
"I'll snipe the morale out of them."
She nocked her final arrow and aimed it at Cassandra, who was standing straight and unshaken, as she positioned her sword straight up just between he eyes as they glowed .
Whisper had to do something.
She blinked—and raised her bow at the last second as a flash of steel screamed toward her skull.
CLANG!
The sword collided with her bow, knocking her backwards. She flipped and landed—barely.
Before her stood Cassandra, her lips curled into a half-mad smile.
"Well, what do we have here. Looks like you are tired "
"You… you think you have won. Posing there like a confused flamingo." She mocked as she got up imidiately draw out a dagger from her back....
They clashed instantly.
Whisper rolled, loosing two arrows laced with poison—Cassandra spun and dodged, slicing the shafts midair. Whisper then threw a dagger—but Cassandra's vision predicted the move, and she deflected it with her wrist guard.
"Too slow," Cassandra whispered.
Whisper grit her teeth and began throwing everything—arrows, daggers, bones sharpened into spikes.
But Cassandra flowed like water.
A step to the left. A duck. A pirouette. Steel sang.
Blades clashed as they engaged up close, Whisper's speed and unpredictability meeting Cassandra's combat clairvoyance.
Finally, Whisper though to her self " I have to use that even though it takes all my energy. I have no choice but to gamble it" Then she leaped back and began to whistle.
High-pitched. Piercing.
The air trembled. Trees cracked. Cassandra gasped, her hands rising to cover her ears that bleed in pain.
Even her sword cracked. The ground split as the sound grew more and more intense.
Whisper's body glowed as she poured all her magic into the whistle—a forbidden technique that shattered solid matter with frequency alone.
"Goodbye, Cassandra," she muttered.
Then silence.
When the pain stopped and Cassandra opened her eyes—Whisper was gone.
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