Chapter 13

  Sarah stepped forward calmly, her movements as steady as her confident posture. Orin and Dregan exchanged confident glances, their postures loose and relaxed, as if they'd seen this scenario a hundred times before—opponents they could crush without breaking a sweat. Orin cracked his fingers, his grin sharp and mocking.

  “You look calm,” he said, his tone dripping with amusement.

  In a flash, Orin dashed forward, his speed so great it shattered the sound barrier multiple times over, sonic booms echoing through the massive chamber. To Elira, watching from a distance, even tho she definitely could match that, he was still like a blur of speed, his movements almost imperceptible even to a decently strong person. But to Sarah, it was laughable.

  She watched him approach as though he were moving in slow motion. Every detail of his attack unfolded clearly in her vision—the tightening of his fist, the shift in his weight, the trajectory of his punch. When the strike finally came, Sarah tilted her body slightly to the side, effortlessly dodging the blow.

  Orin’s eyes widened, his expression shifting from smug confidence to surprise. He pulled back, taking a step away from her. “Huh,” he muttered, a grin returning to his face. “Not bad. Very few have ever dodged my attacks. Looks like I’ll have to take this seriously.”

  He planted his feet, the air around him pulsing as he activated a barrage of skills. “[Greater Strength].” His muscles swelled visibly. “[Ability Boost].” His reflexes sharpened. “[Heavy Blow].” His fists glowed faintly with energy. “[Greater Acceleration].” His movements became almost impossible to track for the average eye. One by one, he activated skill after skill, layering buff upon buff.

  Sarah raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Interesting,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone else. “Warrior skills... not spells, but something that a warrior can learn… likely if he has enough talent. This world really does have its own surprises.”

  Orin grinned, clearly proud of his abilities. “You won’t dodge this one,” he declared, before vanishing in an instant. His speed had increased by several orders of magnitude.

  But for Sarah, nothing had changed. Orin’s movements, enhanced as they were, still seemed pitifully slow. She could see every step, every twitch, every preparation for his strike.

  This time, she didn’t move.

  Orin’s punch connected with her midsection, the force of the blow so immense it shattered the ground beneath them, sending cracks spiderwebbing across the floor and a thick cloud of dust rising into the air. The impact shook the chamber, the watching nobles gasping in excitement.

  As the debris settled, Sarah stood there, completely unscathed. Her expression was calm, her posture unbothered, as though nothing had happened.

  Orin stepped back, his breathing suddenly uneven. His face twisted into something akin to fear as he stared at her, his mind racing to process what he was seeing. “Impossible…” he muttered under his breath.

  From the side, Dregan’s voice cut through the air, a hint of irritation and worry in his tone. “What the hell are you doing, Orin? Stop holding back and finish her already!”

  But Orin didn’t respond. He was frozen in place, staring at Sarah.

  Before he could blink, she was suddenly standing directly in front of him. His body froze, every nerve screaming at him to retreat, but he couldn’t move. Her presence was overwhelming, suffocating.

  “Good spectacle, isn’t it?” Sarah asked casually, her voice filled with mock amusement.

  She raised her hand, extending a single finger. A dark flame flickered to life at its tip, creating crackling sounds of fire. “This,” she said, her voice calm and deliberate, “is a 8th-tier spell: [Infernal Flame].”

  Orin’s eyes widened in horror, his confidence shattered. “No… that’s impossible!” he cried, taking a shaky step back. “8th-tier magic is that of the legends!”

  He raised his fist again, desperation fueling his movements as he prepared to strike. But before he could land another blow, the dark flame expanded, engulfing him entirely.

  His scream was short-lived. The black fire consumed him instantly, reducing his body to ashes in a matter of seconds. The only sound that remained was the faint crackling of the flames as they faded into nothingness.

  Dregan stood frozen in place, his eyes switching between the pile of ash that had once been Orin and Sarah, who now turned her piercing blue eyes toward him.

  His instincts yelled for him to run, but before he could take one step, Sarah appeared before him. He didn't even have a chance to process what was happening when her fist connected with his chest.

  The force of the impact shot him across the room like a cannonball, slamming into the far wall with such power that the stone shattered on impact, creating a huge crater, dust and debris flying everywhere.

  When the dust settled, a bloody smear of Dregan lay across the wall, and nothing more, his body just being brutally destroyed from that one strike by Sarah.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  The nobles in the viewing deck were silent, their earlier enthusiasm replaced by a stunned, horrified stillness.

  Sarah dusted off her hands, her expression of satisfaction as she turned back to Arya and Elira. “Well,” she said calmly, as though nothing had happened, “that takes care of that.”

  Elira stood rooted to the spot, her mind struggling to process what she had just witnessed. Arya, on the other hand, smirked, clearly unfazed.

  “Nice work,” Arya said casually, crossing her arms. “But you could’ve let me have a little fun.”

  Sarah glanced at her, her lips curving into a faint smile. “You can have your fun.”

  She then turned her gaze to the deck where the elegantly dressed spectators had been watching the fight. “Arya,” she said casually, “do me a favor and take care of those people up there.”

  Arya’s lips curled into a wicked smile, the prospect of chaos lighting a spark in her crimson eyes. “With pleasure,” she replied. Without a moment’s hesitation, Arya leaped upward, effortlessly landing on the deck like a shadow of death.

  Elira’s eyes widened in alarm. “Wait!” she said, stepping toward Sarah. “Don’t do this. Please, spare them. I know they’re bad people, but they don’t deserve to be killed in cold blood like that!”

  Sarah turned to Elira with a soft chuckle, as if amused by her plea. “Spare them?” she asked, her tone light but sharp. “Do you really think this is about them being bad people?”

  Elira hesitated, confused. “Isn’t it?”

  Sarah’s smile didn’t reach her eyes as she responded, her voice filled with quiet intensity. “I don’t care if they’re bad or good, Elira. You should know that by now. I—by many people’s standards—am a bad person too. This isn’t about morality.” She gestured toward the deck where the screams of the first victim had already begun to echo. “I want them dead. That’s all there is to it.”

  Elira flinched as the cries filled the air, each one sending a shiver down her spine. She lowered her gaze, her hands trembling slightly. “This isn’t right,” she murmured. “I... I was looking for two white-haired women who killed a noble. That’s why I’m here.” She paused before lifting her gaze to meet Sarah’s. “That was you, wasn’t it? You’re one of them.”

  Sarah tilted her head slightly, regarding Elira with mild curiosity before answering plainly. “Yes, I was involved in it. It was an accident, I’m sorry for causing you trouble.”

  Elira’s face hardened, her earlier nervousness replaced by something closer to resolve. “You’re evil,” she said flatly, her voice steady. “What else should I have expected? I asked you to spare those people, and here you are, letting that demon slaughter them.”

  Sarah laughed softly. “Evil? Perhaps,” she said. “By many standards, I’m certainly not what you’d call a good person. But,” she added, her tone shifting to something sharper, “I’m not pure evil, not like them.” She gestured toward the deck again, where Arya’s rampage was still ongoing, the screams now mingling with desperate pleas for mercy.

  Elira frowned but said nothing, waiting for Sarah to elaborate.

  “This organization,” Sarah continued, “among other evil acts, takes innocent girls off the streets, abuses them, exploits them, and leaves them broken. They’ve committed atrocities you can’t even imagine. And the nobles in this city? They know all about it. They just turn a blind eye because it’s convenient for them.” She paused, letting the weight of her words settle. “There were probably nobles among those watching on the deck. Do you think they deserve better than this?”

  Elira’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t respond.

  “And you,” Sarah said, her voice taking on a sharper edge as her eyes locked onto Elira’s. “You turn a blind eye too. You walk through this world, seeing injustice, seeing evil, and what do you do? You pretend it’s not there.”

  Elira flinched at the accusation, her gaze dropping once again.

  “Don’t lecture me about morality,” Sarah said, her tone now firm but not unkind. “If I ever rule somewhere, my people will be well off. Criminality like this will be dealt with—permanently.”

  The screams above finally stopped, leaving only silence in the room. Moments later, Arya descended from the deck, her grin wider than ever. Her black clothes were stained with blood, and she looked like she had enjoyed herself. “All done,” she said cheerfully, wiping her hands on a piece of fabric she’d taken from one of her victims.

  Sarah nodded in acknowledgment, then turned back to Elira, placing a hand on her shoulder. Elira stiffened under her touch, her eyes still filled with uncertainty.

  “This,” Sarah said, her voice softer now but no less resolute, “is how I deal with those who oppose me.” She offered Elira a small, almost comforting smile. “You’ll understand one day.”

  Elira didn’t reply, her mind racing with conflicted thoughts. On one hand, Sarah’s actions disgusted her—the cold efficiency, the unapologetic embrace of violence. On the other hand, there was a harsh truth to Sarah’s words that Elira couldn’t deny.

  As they prepared to move on, Elira cast one last glance at the deck, now silent and lifeless.

  ***

  Elira walked beside Sarah. She hesitated before speaking, her voice quiet yet firm. “You’re right about what you said earlier,” she admitted, glancing at Sarah. “I’ve turned a blind eye to a lot of things... but it wasn’t because I wanted to. It’s because I couldn’t do anything about it.” She paused, her expression conflicted. “But I’ve never killed anyone in cold blood, and I certainly don’t enjoy it… I’m not like you two.”

  Sarah gave her a sideways glance, her expression unreadable. “Don’t think too much about it,” she said, her tone oddly reassuring. “I’m sure you’ve done some good. You’re not like the two evil demons, if that’s what worries you.”

  Elira didn’t respond, but her mind was full of doubts. Could she consider herself good if she turned a blind eye to many things? She kept walking, her thoughts interrupted only when the trio entered a new chamber.

  The space resembled a cell block, its walls lined with metal bars. The air was thick with the stench of decay and blood, and faint cries and whimpers echoed throughout. Elira’s eyes scanned the area until they landed on Tuah, lying on the floor of one of the cells. Her body was filled with wounds, and monstrous beasts were gnawing slowly on her flesh. Tuah’s faint, broken sobs barely registered, as though she no longer had the strength to scream.

  Without a second thought, Elira went to the cell door, her anger flaring. She grabbed the rusted lock and crushed it with her bare hands, the metal crumpling like paper. The door swung open with a loud creak, and Elira stepped inside. Flames erupted from her hands as she unleashed a skill, incinerating the beasts in an instant like they were nothing, their remains crumbling to ash.

  Elira dropped to her knees beside Tuah, her voice trembling with concern. “Her condition is bad,” she said, gently brushing aside Tuah’s matted hair to assess her injuries.

  Sarah entered the cell, her expression calm and collected as always. She knelt beside Elira and raised a hand over Tuah’s broken body. A soft blue glow enveloped her palm as she cast a healing spell. In mere moments, Tuah’s wounds closed, her torn flesh mended, and the pain that had consumed her faded completely like it never happened to begin with.

  Tuah blinked, her tear-filled eyes wide. She looked at her healed body, then up at Sarah, her lips trembling as she tried to find words of gratitude.

  Elira stared at Sarah in awe, amazed by the sheer power of the spell. “That was incredible,” she murmured.

  Sarah stood and brushed her hands off casually. “Take her,” she said to Elira. “And get the other prisoners out of here. Arya and I will handle the rest.”

  Elira nodded, lifting Tuah gently in her arms. She then proceeded to open the other cells.