Mizuki’s eyes fixed ahead. A killing field spread there, clean earth stained by a steady river of red. Her brows tightened, a small knot of worry, yet she stayed where she was, obedient as a shadow on stone.

Under the lacquered night, the Special Task Force lined the rooftop. The drifting evening wind lifted loose strands, giving their faces a moonlit grace. Yun Shi stood at the front, gaze cool on the chaos below, where steel and screams churned like a stormed sea. Tyrant sat off to the side, sour-faced, idly rolling a pistol between fingers like a coin.

Comet hated this perch. She kept her distance, stood with Li Xiang, like a star that refused the constellation. Aya sighed and moved forward to check the flow.

This attack needed clear eyes to judge it right. That was why they watched from this height. If you want turf, you bring a plan carved to the inch.

They belonged to the night. The dark was their hidden blade, a hunter’s veil across the rooftop.

Meanwhile, below, members of the Divine Ling Family clashed with the Witches. The Witches had support from the Single Leaf Clan. The Divine Ling Family fought with help from the Flamebu Family, red and blue banners whipping like tongues of fire and water.

“Hah!”

A thick-set man thrust a long spear. The tip punched a Witch’s abdomen, stealing a bright life in one brutal breath.

Ripples rolled across the ground like scales on a giant fish, turning wide patches of earth into jagged gravel. He swept his arm. A storm of attacks poured out, scattered like light through broken glass, patternless and cruel, leaving no opening. The Witches took the worst of it.

“Come on. Let me have some fun.”

He wore a playful grin, eyes like a cat at the henhouse. He weighed how these dying lambs would buck against his hands.

“Damn it…”

Many Witches staggered back. The pressure pressed their chests like a millstone. They couldn’t retreat. Their order was to hold this strip of land. Running was another kind of death.

He saw despair flower on their faces and drank it like wine. He felt his own team was expendable; only he mattered; only he was strong.

“Time’s about right.”

On the rooftop, Yun Shi checked her watch. Her voice was faint, cool as frost. Her fingers brushed the frame of her Goggles and clicked on night vision. Through green-lit sight, she watched the ground below, saw the man stalk toward Witches who could hardly breathe. That was enough.

“We move, Night Phantom?”

Aya caught the seriousness in Yun Shi’s eyes and read the answer. She cut straight to the point.

“Mm. Move. Put our most destructive on first.”

Yun Shi flicked off the Goggles’ night vision. She rose, turned, and addressed Tyrant.

“Tch. Being ordered by you annoys me. But this once, it’s me who’ll take your kill.”

Tyrant clicked her tongue, grumbled, then stood and pulled the greatsword from her back, steel like a moon-sickle.

“Miyuki Kiseki.”

“Yes!”

“Guard our rear in a minute. No problem?”

“Yes. I won’t fail!”

“No need to be that formal. Just keep an eye on our back.”

Orders given, Tyrant stepped to the edge, ready to jump.

While no one watched, and Yun Shi still handed out instructions, Tyrant slipped a small powder vial from a pouch. She glanced at the vial, then at Yun Shi’s back. Her brow creased, a line of storm-cloud worry.

It wasn’t ordinary. Guangzi had pressed it into her hand: contraband, hard to get, bitter as poison.

“Take it, Tyrant. It’s a good thing.”

“What is it?”

“Heh. It’s a Mystic-Eater. Good stuff.”

“—Guangzi, this is illegal. Where did you get it?”

“Don’t ask. It was hard to find. Listen. Dust Night Phantom with it. Her Mystic Power will dry up on its own, and her body will feel like it walked into molten lava.”

“Hey, it’s banned for a reason. Stealing someone’s Mystic Power is too low.”

“Why bother with rules? Night Phantom’s the enemy. You’ll kill her sooner or later. One knife in the back won’t ruin you. Besides, she might have a secret technique to survive it. Then you’ll learn which Clan Head she serves. That’s a win.”

“But…”

“No buts. Take it. Killing Night Phantom’s your job now.”

Thinking back, Tyrant’s frown dug deeper. For someone straight as steel, this was too filthy to swallow.

Forget it. She still had to run this battle. She’d spare Night Phantom for now.

She pocketed the vial, then leapt.

Waves shuddered up from the ground, winds spinning into razors, slicing like winter reeds. Tyrant landed like a reaper. Palms open, a glance back, and lives fell like dried leaves on cold water. Tonight, she was absolute. Before her, the enemy had only death, no odds, no coin toss.

Soon after, Hawk Hunter and Comet rushed in and joined the war.

With them, the fight tilted hard. The man who had pressed everyone under his boot lost his grip. His side turned into a practice dummy, not a threat. A moment later, the others dropped from the roof, Yun Shi and Aya at the front. They took up steel and spell and moved to purge. Only one girl still relied on her Artifact Spirit and didn’t truly step into the melee.

It didn’t take long. The win was already written in the smoke.

No one wanted to waste time. They moved fast and in sync, finished the job, then sprinted toward a nearby building. It looked ordinary, an empty house with cracked windows, but war favors dull places. It was perfect for hiding and ambush. The Divine Ling Family had likely posted troops to hold it. That lowered the chance of getting hit by the Crystal Tower.

Rat-tat-tat—

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Crackle!

Crack!

Deafening sounds hammered the ears, as if sound itself wanted to tear bodies apart. It wasn’t exaggeration. The force in those bursts could rival a bullet’s skin-scrape. That’s how savage this fight was.

Mizuki watched bodies spill blood and drop. She watched lives stop under artillery like candles in wind. Her feelings were more tangled than most. She tried not to stare. She lifted her head and walked the way she had to, a lone reed in storm water.

This was a real battlefield. You fight and live at the same time or you don’t live at all.

“Enemy attack!”

Gunmen at the base of the building saw the Special Task Force charging straight in. Their faces fell, then hardened. Voices snapped others to full alert. The Divine Ling Family wasn’t here to play nice.

A sheet of bullets swept across them. They had to halt and raise cover, a wall of steel and spell. It was the opening move, and they were pinned for a moment.

The defenders outside thought they’d caught a prize. They pressed harder, intent on burying these girls right here, like rain driving dust into mud.

“Thunder Lady, you’re up first.”

Aya’s voice was steady, lined with steel.

“Yes!”

No hesitation. Thunder Lady kicked off the floor and sprinted forward. Lightning coiled around her body, crackling like dry branches. The smile left her face; rare seriousness took its place.

Bolts fell from above, a sudden sky-lash. The hit guards went numb, limbs frozen like frostbitten wood. Thunder Lady’s hand shaped a blade of lightning. With a soft pff, she slit a throat as easily as dew cuts a leaf. She didn’t give them time to breathe. She zipped, a storm-line, and blew bodies to grit. Then she set her hands in a chi-blast pose. A thunder lance roared from her palms, ate the front yard and everyone in it. Nothing remained. Not even slag.

Thunder Lady was kind, sunny, playful. On a battlefield, she didn’t balk. She’d long since passed the phase where blood made her stomach turn.

“Comet, Tyrant. You two spearhead.”

Aya kept her tone cold and precise.

Comet and Tyrant had no objections. They grabbed their weapons and moved. Orders weren’t things you disobey, unless you think your life’s too long.

Boom!

Another explosion. The gate guards were done. Reinforcements might already be on the way. They had to finish fast.

Aya turned it over in her head once and found the right call. Her face went colder, like dawn over snow.

A violent blast rolled across the open ground. An eight-meter crater gaped there, obvious as a moon-scar. Aya’s work, no question.

With that, the guards were gone. They pushed into the building.

This part mattered for what came next. The Special Task Force had to take the building inside the limit. The earlier the better. If the Crystal Tower’s strike came, it would be their bodies in the crosshairs.

But the building might not hold only the Divine Ling Family. Flamebu Family forces could be here. Witches might be inside already, coming from a different arm of the city.

All of it was uncertain.

None of it stopped them. Their steps stayed firm, boots tapping like metronomes in rain.

Inside, they met plenty of gunmen. Bullets cut the air without mercy. Tyrant loved the thick of it. She lunged, blood already painting her greatsword, a crimson crescent. Hawk Hunter sighed and covered her flank, wings in shadow.

Mizuki held the pistol Tyrant had handed her. Her fingers trembled like leaves. She tried to steady herself, to breathe through stone, but nothing worked. No matter how tightly she gripped, no matter how calmly she counted, one fact stayed carved in ice.

She didn’t dare to kill.

So even with a full magazine, when she aimed at the front, not a single shot left the barrel.

Fear? Unease? More like not fitting the skin of this world. Before she became a Witch, she was just a high school girl. You don’t switch and shoot in a heartbeat. Your first trigger pull takes resolve, and hers wasn’t there yet.

It wasn’t the old lessons that killing makes you a criminal. She’d seen enough bodies to stop flinching at blood. She just couldn’t make her hand do it. Every time she touched a gun, her breath thinned. Her heart raced. A choking tightness wrapped her chest like a snake. Her hand wouldn’t move.

No one starts a saint. Your first kill takes a vow you haven’t made.

In that state, Mizuki could only point the gun. She couldn’t pull. She saw bullets coming, a bright rain toward her face, and she shut her eyes without meaning to.

Bang!

A gunshot cracked in front of her, cutting through the sound she’d braced for.

The man who had aimed at Mizuki fell. No surprise. He was already dead.

Mizuki opened her eyes. A familiar black cloak stood there. A face hid behind Goggles, green glass catching the night like a river.

"If you're not used to it, then step aside—let the wind pass."

The girl in the black cloak spoke, her tone light as morning mist.