The silence on the women side didn't last.
It was broken by a single, sharp crack—faint, distant, almost like the snapping of brittle wood. She can notice it because she use enhancement to her hearing.
Elara's head shot up instantly. Her hand reached for the dagger at her waist. Her eyes flicked to the doorway, to the windows, then to Lyra—still seated, still unaware.
"Stay low," she whispered.
No wind outside.
No bird song. No distant chatter.
Only that hollow stillness right before something deadly.
Then it came.
BANG!
It struck past the window—shattering it, right into it's intentional target.
A bullet!
Elara's body moved before thought could catch up. She tackled Lyra to the ground, wrapping her arms around the girl as the shot shredded the spot where Lyra's head had been.
Dust exploded around them.
"Elara—!"
"Quiet!" she snapped. "They found us."
Her mind raced.
"Don't speak loudly. You'll give away your exact location," Elara whispered, her voice razor-sharp despite its quietness.
That shot… it was clean. Precise. No warning.A professional.
This wasn't just some thug with a scope.
This was a sniper. A damn good one.
Elara narrowed her eyes, then slowly stood, keeping herself between Lyra and the broken window. With a slow exhale, she reached inward—channeling mana down her spine and into her arm, where it swirled and flared.
Her veins lit faintly.
Her knuckles glowed.
She clenched her fist and braced her stance.
"Cover your ears."
Then—HAHH!
BAM!
She drove her augmented fist into the dirt floor. A shockwave blasted out, cracking the stone and erupting a cloud of thick dust that engulfed the room in an instant.
The floor shook.
The air turned opaque.
A perfect smokescreen.
Far away, perched atop a broken rooftop, Hawking narrowed his eyes through the custom scope of his sniper rifle. But all he saw now was haze—nothing but swirling dust and shadows.
"Tch."
He pulled back from the scope slightly, tilting his head.
"That woman is fast. And smart," he muttered, almost annoyed. "She reacted the moment I fired… like she'd knew someone coming."
"No matter." Hawking intend to use his X vision. That smokescreen will be all in vain.
But then a voice echoed down behind him interrupting, followed by hurried steps.
Vellian and Caldus had arrived, breath sharp from following, expressions dark with tension.
"Mister Hawking," Vellian said, barely catching his breath. "Are you sure you shot right? I told you—I need one of them alive."
His voice was low but laced with warning.
"You never told me which one to keep alive," Hawking replied, his tone dry, almost bored.
Vellian scowled. "The girl who looks weaker. That's the sister."
Hawking blinked once.
Oh.
That had been the one he nearly shot through the skull.
But of course, he won't say that.
"Alright, alright," he said, brushing it off like it was nothing. "No fatal shots. Just disable for the one you want to capture."
He adjusted the rifle's scope and loaded another round with a smooth, practiced motion. His red-silver eyes gleamed with the familiar pattern of crystalline X—tracking even the faintest movement through the wall of dust.
He set his sights again, watching for any movement in bare visual.
Inside the ruined room, Elara tightened her grip on her dagger.
She knew they had only seconds before the next shot.
Outside, Vellian was already barking orders.
"Encircle the perimeter! Don't let them leave!"
His voice echoed through the broken streets as shadows moved between crumbling walls—mercenaries fanning out, surrounding the ruined house like a tightening noose.
BANG!
Another shot rang out.
This time, it came straight for Elara!
Her pupils constricted in shock, reacting on instinct. She twisted her body—her fist rising just in time.
CRACK!
With a sharp grunt, she punched the bullet.
Flesh met metal.
Steel met mana.
The round was deflected mid-air, veering off course and burying itself into the wall behind her with a muted thud.
But—
Blood spattered.
Elara's knuckles were torn, skin ripped open by the impact. Even enhanced, she wasn't invincible.
Meanwhile, far above, Hawking's eyes widened in disbelief. He had seen it through the crosshair, frame by frame.
"...What the—"
He didn't even have time to finish his thought before a glint of silver streaked through the air toward him.
A dagger.
Fast. Precise. Deadly.
He jerked his body sideways just in time, the blade slicing past his cheek and embedding into the stone behind him.
"She… pinpointed my location?" he muttered.
"She parried the bullet and figure out where I was?!"
His eyes narrowed, now gleaming with a mix of caution and thrill.
"This one's dangerous."
Inside, Elara stood still, hand bleeding, lungs burning.
So he can shoot through a smokescreen.
She clenched her jaw.
"This sniper—he has something. A power. Or an artifact. Maybe a bloodline trait. Something that lets him see even now."
In the silence that followed, the narration shifted—like the voice of a distant professor echoing through memory.
Magic.The universal wonder. The great root. A tool that could shape, destroy, or rebuild the world.
But it was not singular. It was a school, divided into branches.
Soren—her colleague—was an Arcanist, master of raw arcane manipulation, crafting spells from complex theory and abstract construction.
Others were Elementalist, bending fire, water, earth, and wind to their will.
But Elara...
She was something rare.
An Enchanter, yes—one who specialized in enhancement magic. Strengthening body and ally alike. But her path veered into a sharper domain.
She enchanted herself.Her skin, her muscles, her very bones became conduits for mana. She didn't cast from afar—She became the weapon.
A mage who fought like a warrior.
And for that, the world whispered a different name:
Lady Limitbreaker.
"There's no other choice," Elara thought grimly, hearing the walls creak as enemies closed in.
She turned to Lyra, voice low and firm.
"Run. Now. I'll catch up later, but you have to go first."
Lyra hesitated.
"Go!"
Up above, Hawking's hand hovered over his utility pouch. Inside, nestled in a foam-lined case, was special bullets—glinting faintly with etched sigils and core of gradient alloy.
His trump card.
"Should I use it?"
He grimaced.
"This round costs more than what I'm getting paid for this mission..."
He hesitated.
BAM!
A section of the wall exploded outward.
Elara emerged from the crumbling ruin in a blur of motion, debris flying around her like wings of war.
A mercenary was already there, positioned to intercept.
She didn't slow.
"Surround her!" Vellian shouted. "Don't let her break through!"
He sprinted toward the fight himself, eyes sharp. But even as he closed the distance, he was asking the same question:
Where's the other woman?
Elara's eyes cold locked onto Vellian.
"You… I'll take you with me to the grave."
Her words were cold, final—an executioner's vow.
Vellian's heart skipped.
He couldn't take her lightly. Not this one.
She wasn't just some rogue mage or glorified bodyguard.
She was also an instructor of Astralis Academy like him.
And that title alone meant something.
Few ever made it that far. Most instructors at the Academy are elites.
Elara had—and she'd earned a reputation soaked in sweat, blood, and shattered bones.
The renowned Lady Limitbreaker itself.
Elara slammed mana into her soles.
BOOM!
The ground cracked under her footstep!
Then—she vanished.
A blur of motion.
Faster than any mercenary could react.
Her foot twisted, and her elbow snapped forward—CRACK!The nearest mercenary collapsed without a scream, his helmet crumpling from the sheer force of her blow.
No time to spare.
She turned sharply, eyes locking on Vellian.
Her bloodied hand clenched tighter, mana coiling around her muscles like steam off boiling water.
She knew exactly what she was doing—And how insane it was charging like that.
Vellian wasn't just some noble puppet. He also an Astralis instructor, just like her. A peer.
But she had no choice.
If she didn't draw their attention—If she didn't make room—Lyra wouldn't make it out.
Her body blurred as she zig-zagged through scattered debris—never in one spot long enough for a clean shot.
Far above, Hawking's finger hovered near the trigger again, sweat forming beneath his gloves.
"She keeps moving," he muttered. "Slippery little—"
Vellian stood calmly in the center of the battlefield, his cloak fluttering gently in the stirred wind.
Then he reached beneath the folds of his robe and pulled something forth.
A book.
But not just any book.
Its cover was dark steel and bound in runes. As it left his hand, it didn't fall—it floated.
A Codex.
A conduit of power used by classical mages, alongside staffs and wands.
The air around him shimmered.
Vreeeeeeeeee—
The pages flipped on their own.
Then, with a pulse of mana, a field of glowing violet energy erupted outward in ripples—like invisible ink blooming on the canvas of reality.
From the alleyways and rooftops, other mercenaries emerged—drawn to the surge of power.
Like moths to a war-born flame.
"Form up! Help Boss." one of them barked.
They converged around Vellian, weapons drawn, a small army now encircling the one woman who refused to kneel.
Elara skidded to a stop.
Her breathing was steady.Her knuckles bled freely.But her spirit didn't waver.
She saw the pattern.The trap forming.The sniper's aim tightening from afar.The Codex field blooming ahead of her.
And still…She didn't step back.
Above, Hawking inhaled slowly, crosshair locked on her.
Elara. Cornered, bleeding, and outnumbered.
She was now in a predicament.