The fight inside the tower burned hotter, gunshots weaving like crossing rain, knives clacking like flint, all beating out a symphony of death and survival. A squad pushed through with a menagerie of firearms. Their targets were girls, which looked absurd at a glance, until you knew how terrifying those girls’ power ran under the silk.

Once-silent stairwells now echoed like a bell-chamber with sharp reports. Heavy bodies thudded down like sacks of grain, and everyone knew exactly what that sound meant.

“Sham, Miyuki Kiseki is yours to guard.”

“Okay. Leave her to me~”

Yun Shi handed the task to the one she trusted most, then slipped away toward the heaviest fire, a shadow moving into thunder. Mizuki watched that back fade like a lantern in fog and could do nothing. She wanted to follow, but her strength was a small flame in a gale, so she fell in beside Sham.

“Don’t worry, Mizuki. I’ll keep you safe.”

Sham had said it so many times it was a lullaby, but she kept saying it, because it was the only raft that steadied Mizuki’s heart.

“I know… it’s just…”

Of course the unease stayed, a cold pebble in the gut. It was Mizuki’s first battlefield. Calm was a thin ice-sheet under her feet; the miracle was that it held at all. Without her adaptability—and the Witch’s Mystic Power—she’d have frozen, dumb with fear. Out here, even a scream could get stolen by gunfire. All she could do was try, inch by inch, to keep one step back from the scythe’s edge.

“Move, Thunder Lady.”

“Yes!”

Yun Shi and Thunder Lady vanished like twin sparks in wind. The rest peeled off as planned. In the end, the only ones left in that pocket were Mizuki and Sham, two lanterns in a long corridor.

Thinking of what came next, Mizuki felt fear rise like tide, but she didn’t object. The plan was Night Phantom’s. She would not flinch now.

“Let’s go, Mizuki.”

“Mm. Right.”

They ran again, footfalls drumming like rain on tiles. Mizuki had lost count of how many sprints she’d made tonight; every turn felt like running straight into a muzzle. Strangely, no fatigue came—a Witch’s Mystic Power wrapped her like a second skin. If this were any other night, her body would have folded like wet paper.

By the plan, the team split with the rescued remnants of the Single Leaf Clan, threading down separate veins of the building to carry out silent kills. The enemy had numbers like a tide. A straight-on clash could work, but it would cost blood. Better to take Yun Shi’s proposal: peel them away, one by one, from the dark.

Assassination had its blessings. A blade from shadow, a foe who never saw dawn. It took time, it took patience, but like water on stone, it worked.

Shhk!

Another quick draw across a throat, and another body lay still like a cut cord.

Yun Shi tipped her chin. Thunder Lady grinned, called a slim ribbon of lightning into her palm, and tossed it toward the sentry post. Crackle hissed low, a net of light flickering like fireflies. The guards seized and dropped, stunned, no loud thunderclap to betray them.

Yun Shi and Thunder Lady moved in like falling leaves. A swipe at each neck, and sleepers crossed the river, quietly as dusk.

“This is a rush. Running with you is the best, Night Phantom~”

Thunder Lady’s praise rang bright. Yun Shi rapped her lightly on the head, a knuckle like a tap on a gourd.

“Enough. Keep your voice down. We move.”

“Yessir, hehe.”

Thunder Lady fell in at her heels, smile crackling like static.

Elsewhere, Tyrant, Comet, and Hawk Hunter tore through a single room like a gust. Surprise opened the door; denying gunfire kept it shut. In under ten seconds, the work was done.

“That’s the tenth spot. Next, we go down a floor.”

Comet, ever the silent star, actually spoke. Her voice was cool with a hidden ember, winter sun on snow.

“Mm. Move.”

“Got it. One sec.”

Tyrant and Hawk Hunter offered no argument. They’d run together too long to need words. This wasn’t their first hunt, and their rhythm was already a river.

Aya and Li Xiang ran with the Single Leaf Clan survivors. With their power, sweeping fast wasn’t the problem. The real problem was Mizuki…

Because Mizuki couldn’t bring herself to kill, Sham had to carry two loads on one back. Without cover, every step was a tightrope; more than once she almost spilled their position. Mizuki felt the guilt like a stone in her sleeve, but whenever her fingers touched a blade, her hands shook like aspen leaves. She couldn’t force the cut. Thankfully, Elana knew her nature. The Artifact Spirit turned into a blade, floated like a crescent in midair, and, at the sight of a hostile, flashed forward to sever the body’s thread—clean, lethal, and mercifully silent.

“Thank you, Elana.”

Breath ragged, face drawn, forehead beaded with fine sweat, Sham still remembered to thank the blade that hummed in the air.

“No need for thanks. I merely lent a hand~”

Elana sounded a touch proud, but spoke with easy grace.

“I’m sorry, Sham…”

“It’s okay. My first kill was worse than yours. You’re doing fine.”

“But…”

“No one’s born for this. There’s always a breaking-in. The fact you’re still calm here is already rare. I fainted clean away my first time~”

“Sham…”

“So don’t hold the guilt. The Mizuki I know smiles, and that’s the one I want to see~”

Sham ruffled her hair with a warm palm, a sunbeam through smoke.

Footsteps skittered nearby, and Sham’s face hardened like ice. She drew a combat knife, ready to spring. Mizuki shook her head, lifted Elana reshaped as a Reaper Scythe, and set her jaw. She’d knock them out if she could. She still couldn’t cross the red line, and she didn’t know what crossing it would do to her.

Yun Shi and Thunder Lady wandered through their assassination game, hands stained a quiet red, breath steady as night wind. Thunder Lady wrinkled her nose at the copper stench and asked to wash. Yun Shi checked the halls—empty—and nodded. They found a canteen some enemy had left, poured water over their hands, crimson swirling away like ink. Yes, they used drinking water to scrub blood; at least they had the sense to drink the rest, so the river wasn’t entirely wasted.

“Night Phantom, why’d you turn your head? Let me see your face~”

“Shut it. No.”

“Stingy! Won’t even let me look!”

“So noisy. Go sit in a corner, kid.”

“Hey! You look my age, Night Phantom. You’re a kid too!”

“You really do court death.”

“Ow, ow—don’t chop me! That hurts!”

In the stairwell, only two girls played the fool, their tension snapping like a string and twanging back. With no enemies on hand, they let the masks slip. Thunder Lady clutched her head and pouted, but inside she beamed. She’d pegged Yun Shi as her peer and had insisted on being friends. Now that closeness felt like a secret handshake. As for Yun Shi and her hand-chops—she’d never admit it, but a small, warm ember glowed behind her cool eyes.

Playtime ended; the hunt called. After a few breaths of laughter, they moved for the next mark, unaware of what waited coiled ahead.

Assassination in a labyrinth took time, but it paid off. In roughly thirty minutes, they had thinned the herd like a careful harvest, all without rattling the walls. The building’s defense line sagged; at this rate, taking the place was a matter of the hourglass. A strong push might even decide the night, a welcome turn for the Special Task Force, whose opening play had been on the back foot.

But the ones you miss—the ones you let slip—always come back like wolves.

“Good. Time to prepare the last measure.”

Tasks done, everyone regrouped. Aya counted faces, nodded once, satisfied. The next move might be the final thrust, and the girl in the black cloak had earned a lion’s share of that opening.

Then the whole building lurched like a ship in storm. The air outside warped, eerie as a mirage. Deep-crimson crystals fell from the sky like a red squall, wild and patternless. The floor split in jagged mouths, spurting molten crystal like lava. The tower shook harder than the world beyond, swaying like it might fold any second. Yet the murderous hail didn’t pierce in. It scoured the skin of the building, but didn’t break its spine. Luck, or design—this pocket was safer, and the Crystal Tower’s salvo hadn’t painted it.

They breathed a quiet blessing. If they hadn’t listened to a certain someone, the cost would’ve been ruin.

Watching the outside barrage ebb, Yun Shi felt time click—a full hour gone, neat as a bell toll. This time, she’d mapped the Crystal Tower’s rhythm and aim, sketched a compass in her mind. The source might be close, perhaps right under their feet. If so, they’d need an unorthodox road, a new plan carved through stone.

She had the direction. With the right pieces, the operation could leap from hope to iron.

Bang!

Footsteps broke into the corridor, messy and many. Slides racked with clean clicks. Hearts clenched like fists as everyone turned.

A squad poured in from God-knew-where, drilled and sharp, muzzles rising like a field of black flowers aimed at the Witches. In a blink, they were encircled, a ring of iron.

How? They’d cut in silence, left no ripples. By rights, nothing should’ve given them away…

Yun Shi stared, a hitch in her chest. She hadn’t imagined this—an absolute misstep, and a trap sprung tight.