The terrifying aura emanating from the banshee made Moen involuntarily catch his breath.

Tier three peak—she was a full level above him.

Coupled with her other means, in terms of sheer visible power, she had already surpassed Moen by leaps and bounds.

Moen couldn't help but sigh inwardly.

The banshee was truly a formidable adversary.

Her terrors lay not just in her strength but in her extreme caution.

From her seemingly foolproof assassination plan with the Red Flame Gang to her earlier use of expendable pawns—

Even in direct confrontation, her first move had been to exploit Sari to disorient him with a disguise, planting a subconscious hint in hopes of bringing him down without a fight.

It was only after all these schemes failed that she engaged in a true confrontation. Even then, her initial moves were merely to probe his strength and tactics.

Step by step, cautiously probing, until she deemed herself sure of victory, revealing her full might to cruelly crush her opponent like a lowly ant. At times, Moen couldn’t help but question who truly deserved caution—the tier-two struggling for survival or the tier-three peak smashing down as if the power gap were insurmountable.

With such meticulous calculation, even someone slightly stronger than her could easily fall into her traps and succumb.

It was no wonder that for the sake of infiltrating the academy, this ruthless woman had gone so far as to implant suggestions on herself and create an entirely new personality. And it was no wonder the Silence Agency had been hunting her for so long without so much as capturing a trace of her.

Unfortunately, there were certain things about Moen she could never account for, no matter how much she schemed.

"To think I’d experience the treatment of a protagonist one day… No, wait, my experience has been far worse than any protagonist’s from the beginning."

At least the enemies protagonists face can be defeated with effort. Look at the mess I’ve gotten involved in—Corrupted God of Love, Moon of Silence—are these the kind of beings a minor villain like me should ever cross paths with?

But those who seek to defy fate will inevitably be hated by it. This was a truth Moen had long understood better than he knew Ann’s lingerie size.

Taking a deep breath, he raised his head to face his first life-or-death opponent in this world, aside from those meddling dark gods. Suppressing all emotion in his eyes, Moen extended his hand to lightly touch Elizabeth. Sparks of alchemy-like arcs danced as her field unfolded.

He whispered softly:

"Bring it on, banshee."

"Giggle, looks like you’ve finally resolved yourself to die."

As if delighting in the futile struggles of an ant, the banshee—convinced of her absolute dominance—had been quietly watching Moen contemplate. After all, she wasn’t pressed for time. There was no urgency on her end.

But when Moen gripped his twin blades, she no longer hesitated and launched her assault!

Like threads of rain pouring from the heavens suddenly disrupted, the banshee darted forth like a venomous snake striking from the shadows, aiming directly at Moen's exposed weak points.

Her twin crescent blades gleamed like freshly risen curved moons, their cold luminescence reflecting the whiteness on Moen's pale face.

The banshee's assault was ferocious and unrelenting. Enhanced by the power of tier-three peak battle energy, even without employing any combat techniques, her polished strikes held even greater force than her earlier attempts.

The piercing sensation of impending death sent sharp jolts through Moen's nerves. This time, he followed his instincts instead of recklessly blocking—he dodged!

Heat rose along his back, his alchemy core spun to life, and his **tenfold time acceleration** engaged!

In Moen's eyes, the banshee's movements slowed drastically. Meanwhile, in the banshee’s perspective, Moen’s speed suddenly accelerated to nearly twice its normal pace, transforming into a fleeting blur in mere moments.

Not only did he evade her strike, but in the next instant, as he dipped low while dodging, Moen swung Elizabeth upward in a sharp, unconventional motion. A light flick!

A "light flick" didn’t mean it was without power. With Elizabeth’s sharpness, even the lightest touch could slice through the banshee's hardened, steel-like scales.

But the banshee neither flinched nor panicked. Instead, mockery deepened in her gaze.

I’ve already witnessed this sudden-speed surge technique of yours. Did you think I’d remain unprepared?

In the darkness, a sudden gust of wind roared.

A massive serpentine tail lashed out, slicing apart rain and air alike, striking just as Moen raised his blade upward.

Having committed to his attack, his chest was left defenseless. The tail slammed into him with unerring precision.

Even with the deceleration granted by his tenfold timeline, and though he could clearly see the incoming tail strike, Moen’s expression remained serene. He allowed the massive force to hit squarely against his chest.

And yet, in that very instant, his attack suddenly changed course!

Because his upward flick had lacked any force behind it, he could shift his movement effortlessly—around the banshee’s expectations.

A steely glint flashed in Moen's eyes. His muscles tensed, veins bulging as his reversed grip brought Elizabeth crashing downward with deadly precision.

Blood spurted.

The banshee howled.

Under Elizabeth’s razor-sharp edge, the banshee’s tail was severed cleanly.

The playful expression on her face turned into one of savage fury. Overwhelmed by pain, she abandoned all composure and prepared to retaliate with utter recklessness.

But Moen had used the tremendous force from the tail’s earlier blow to launch himself backward, retreating just outside her reach and evading her frenzied counterattack.

*Cough, cough.* "So, how does it feel?"

Moen flipped back onto his feet, hacking up fresh blood mixed with bits of flesh, a mocking grin still plastered across his face.

The crimson fire in his eyes flared momentarily before extinguishing. The King of Wither's flame had already begun repairing his injuries—what would kill an ordinary man was, to Moen, a mere inconvenience.

In contrast, the banshee’s severed tail was no fatal wound either. But the humiliation incensed her to near madness.

Dominating by an entire level, executing layered schemes, and yet losing her tail in a single clash—how could she tolerate such disgrace?

"I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you! No! I’ll make you suffer the most agonizing pain imaginable before killing you!"

The severed end of her tail squirmed, visibly beginning to regenerate. Yet her rage didn’t allow her to wait for it to heal as her figure shot forward like a dart, charging toward Moen.

"Funny, that’s exactly what I was about to say to you."

Moen chuckled softly, focusing his mind and expelling all distractions.

The brief exchange had only further confirmed that he could not overpower her head-on unless he unleashed the King of Wither’s flames.

But from the distant rumblings of combat between the Silence Agency and another group, growing ever closer, he knew using such attention-grabbing flames was equivalent to painting a bulls-eye on himself, practically inviting the agency to finish him off.

Thus, this battle would inevitably come down to close-quarters combat—a conclusion Moen had anticipated from the very beginning. It was why he hadn’t hesitated to use those alchemical tools earlier.

Even in melee combat, there were strategies to exploit. If sheer force wouldn’t do, he’d crush her with the skill he excelled in most!

The banshee’s meticulous schemes had also exposed her greatest flaw: she lacked true experience in direct, life-or-death battles.

If it had been one of the assassin maids or adventurers Moen often clashed with in the Black Book, they wouldn’t have made such amateur mistakes.

And coincidentally, having been killed and tormented endlessly in simulations by those exact adversaries, Moen had one thing in abundance: experience with fights to the death.