Chapter 89: Scarlet Huntress!
Seraphyne had gone off alongside Gwen and Diona, spending more time with them to get to learn the two people she’d be protecting from now.
While this was happening, Albedo was hard at work, pushing himself to reach Gold Rank. Gold was the first major hurdle, one that would take some people months if not years.
Every day that went by, Albedo was accumulating strength, consolidating his foundation and preparing himself to breakthrough and take the major leap.
Gold Rank not only would give him another slot for a Beast, but it would also be a qualitative leap in his strength, allowing him to use more powerful techniques & spells. His lifespan would multiply.
He was in the training room, bare chested, his breathing steady as he cycled his mana. The temperature around him was warped, growing higher with each passing second due to both his technique, and his flame dragon heart.
The floor around him was dented and bruised from the training. The growth in his physical strength had been explosive once he obtained the heart, and he was still pushing himself.
Now, he was standing still, taking multiple deep breaths and guiding the flow of his mana, compressing it, shaping it into thin, needle-like strands before letting them explode outward in a controlled burst.
It was a training method designed for absolute mana control and precision. Not a singular speck of mana could be wasted in battle, so he needed to be better.
This quiet training regiment was broken by a soft, deliberate knock.
"Enter," Albedo said without pausing his breathing rhythm, sensing who it was due to the latent aura she was letting out.
The door swung open and Seraphyne stepped inside without waiting for further permission.
The lamplight slid over her figure, the sheer black gown clinging in all the right places, its lace shadows shifting with her movement. Her crimson eyes gleamed in the dimness, predatory and amused all at once.
"You train late, mon maître," she said at last, her voice a smooth, "A habit born of necessity... or is it that you do not sleep?"
"Both," Albedo replied, finally lowering his hands and letting the mana dissipate in the room, "What do you want, Seraphyne?"
Her lips curved in the faintest smirk at his bluntness, "To speak of those two I’ve been assigned to protect , Gwen and Diona." She circled him, as though inspecting a fine blade.
Just her gaze made Albedo’s skin feel like it was being prickled. A Holy Rank being was just a different level of power compared to him, and he could feel it just from her gaze.
but her words were measured.
"Gwen," she began, "is quite unique. I sense a great physique on her, though like yours, I do not know what exactly it is, but it must be just as ancient as yours. You’re quite a curious pair of brother and sister."
Albedo listened silently, towel in hand, wiping sweat from his forearms as he called for the rooms AI to change the temperature to a more frosty one as he cooled down.
"As for the other girl, Diona," Seraphyne continued, her tone changing ever so slightly, "I can sense her easily, blessed by a God, her destiny is quite rich. You really do have a special pair of people around you,"
Albedo met her gaze, "I do."
"Mm. Then you also know they will need protection until she can protect herself." Seraphyne stopped pacing, standing before him now. Her crimson eyes narrowed slightly, "Which brings me to the point of this visit."
She inhaled slowly, almost imperceptibly, but Albedo caught the subtle flare of her nostrils.
"I can still smell them," she said. Her voice lost the smooth playfulness, dropping into something colder. "The ones who you stated to be watching Gwen and Diona. Their scent clings faintly to the streets around the villa, faint, but not faint enough. They are patient, but not invisible."
Albedo’s gaze sharpened, "You’re certain?"
"I am a Bloodvale," Seraphyne said simply, as if that alone settled the matter, "Scents do not lie to me, and theirs reek of intent. They were measuring the villa... and the girls. The two Imperial guards you have stationed there can’t sense them now, they’ve grown smarter. They’re using a special fragrance that hides their aura,"
She stepped closer, enough that he could see the faint glint of her blood-red earrings. "You have brought me back into this world, mon maître. Allow me to repay that gift, I’ll hunt them myself and bring you the leader,"
Albedo’s eyes stayed locked with hers, but he was thinking. In the Novel, after the attack on Diona, the assassins or whoever Professor Skye had hired disappeared.
It was rumored that she had just had them all killed but no-one knew any better. Albedo wondered what the truth was.
After thinking for a bit, he finally nodded, "Okay, hunt them down, but don’t get caught, and be smart. If they can be used, keep them alive,"
She turned as if to leave, but paused at the door, glancing back over her shoulder. "I will return before dawn. Try not to destroy the room in my absence."
Then she was gone, her presence vanishing so abruptly that even the faint lingering trace of her perfume faded into the night air.
Albedo just chuckled as he heard that final sentence, "Gwen’s already teaching her to make fun of me,"
***
It was night-time. Shadows pooled in alleyways and rooftops, neon lights and the three moons illuminating Pantheon. Night prowlers moved all around, some going to the red-light district while others went to do their own business.
While all of this was happening, Seraphyne was moving throughout the rooftops, her bare feet making no sound.
She wore no armor, why would she need it? All she wore was her signature long black gown that seemed woven from night itself.
The air around her was cool, sharp with the scent of rain on stone. but beneath it, she could smell them. The ones who dared to stalk her charges.
Their scents were faint, hidden behind expensive masking oils. To most hunters, it would have been enough to lose the trail. But Seraphyne was not most hunters.
Her crimson eyes glimmered as she crouched at the lip of a narrow street. The Bloodvale senses unfolded inside her mind like a thousand delicate threads, weaving a tapestry of movement, warmth, and heartbeat.
Every tiny shift in the air, every fleck of lingering scent, painted the path for her. As a Holy Rank, this was just too easy.
"Fox... wolf... cat... dark elf," she murmured, tasting the flavors of their blood on the air as if she had already torn their throats open. Her fangs pressed lightly against her lip in anticipation.
She didn’t rush, it was her first hunt in an eternity and she wanted to savor it as much as possible.
She found the first one atop a rooftop three streets over, a FoxKin woman with a lean, tone frame, crouched behind a magical scope trained on the villa. Her fox-tails were wrapped tightly to avoid silhouette, fox-ears twitching ever so slightly.
Seraphyne appeared behind her without the faintest whisper of movement. A shadow seemed to peel away from the chimney and take form. Her hand slid over the FoxKin’s mouth, cold as marble, pulling her back into the dark.
The woman had time for a single, startled inhale before her vision blurred, Seraphyne’s blood magic had already entered her veins.
It wasn’t enough to kill the girl, just enough to lock her limbs in place and drown her in cold paralysis.
"Shhh, ma petite renarde," Seraphyne whispered in French-laced syllables, lowering her gently to the roof tiles. "You will answer questions later."
The FoxKin’s eyes fluttered shut, knocked out cold and laid to rest as Seraphyne moved onto the second, who was a Wolfkin.
This one was a tall woman, only a little shorter than Albedo, with a large muscular frame relative to other women. She was hiding in the shadows of a nearby alley.
Seraphyne’s arrival here was less gentle. She descended from the rooftops in a blur, landing behind the WolfKin and driving a palm into the base of her neck.
The impact cracked the air like a whip, and the woman crumpled without so much as a grunt.
Seraphyne crouched beside her unconscious form, brushing strands of dark black hair from her face, a pretty one.
"Too loud, ma chérie. Wolves were never subtle hunters."
Seraphyne brought her knocked out body next to the FoxKin, and then continued her hunt through the districts of Pantheon.
Two presences lingered far ahead, the Dark Elves.
They were perched on the edge of a half-collapsed clock tower, black cloaks blending with the broken stone.
Their auras were wrapped in layers of concealment spells, each stronger than the last, and their mana pulses were so faint even trained guards would miss them.
Seraphyne did not miss them.
She became mist. Her body dissolved into a black, blood-tinted fog, sliding silently along the side of the tower. She reformed behind them, her voice brushing against their ears like a whisper from the grave.
"Bonsoir."
Both women spun, blades flashing, but the air itself betrayed them. Blood tendrils erupted from the fog, wrapping around wrists and ankles, yanking them off their perch.
They dropped thirty feet, landing in a heap at the base of the tower. Seraphyne descended a heartbeat later, perfectly composed, her gown untouched by dust.
One tried to rise, hissing a spell in the Elven tongue. Seraphyne’s heel pressed lightly against her throat, silencing her.
"Later, mes belles ombres. You may keep your tongues... for now."
The last cluster was the most guarded, three CatKin and another FoxKin, grouped in the basement of an abandoned tea house. A faint magical veil covered the entrance, warping the sound of footsteps to silence.
Once she arrived, the door creaked open as if by its own will. A breeze seemed to drift inside, and with it came the faint perfume of roses and iron.
The CatKin closest to the entrance sniffed, ears twitching, "You smell that?"
She never heard the answer.
Seraphyne moved like a blade through silk, one instant, nothing; the next, she was inside, her form bending unnaturally through the narrow space.
A shadow slid across the floor, rose up, and became her again, crimson eyes gleaming like drops of blood in the dark.
The first CatKin went down under a precise blow to the temple. The second tried to slash with her dagger, Seraphyne caught her wrist mid-swing and twisted it until bone snapped, then caught her as she fell with a whisper-soft embrace.
The last two bolted for the rear door. Seraphyne let them make it three steps before the shadows themselves thickened into a living wall.
Tendrils of darkness erupted from the floor, wrapping their legs, hoisting them into the air upside down.
"Going somewhere, mes petites chattes?" she asked sweetly, brushing imaginary dust from her gown, "No, I think you will stay."
By the time the moon had dipped low in the sky, every one of the stalkers lay bound in blood-forged chains within the basement. Seraphyne walked among them like a queen inspecting her court, her steps unhurried.
She could hear their hearts. Some fast with fear. Some slow with resignation. All hers to command.
She smiled faintly, licking a stray droplet of crimson from her fingertip. "Mon maître will be pleased."