Only when the squad emptied the alley did Aphelia let her form ripple back into view. The deep violet smear pooled like blood, and a dull ache pressed behind her eyes.

So that’s why the streets felt muffled, like snow on sound. With sweeps like that, no civilian would risk a face. Get caught, and your life snaps like wet paper.

But still… it didn’t explain why gang forces left not even a shadow. With a quick count, Aphelia could name a dozen ways they’d profit here. Yet the board stayed blank.

Forget people—under her vast intent, during that sweep she sensed nothing at all. No stray cat, no wingbeat, only Rune-armored soldiers. Not eerie; dead land, frost sealed over stone.

She’d considered yanking a Rune soldier for intel, but Lilo’s trail was fog. One rash move, and trouble would deepen like dusk. Or rather… bad would rot into worse.

More and more, the city felt like a giant trap with velvet jaws. Maybe it wasn’t aiming for her, but from the first step, the three of them were game in its teeth.

Damn it… that’s enough for today.

She looped the block once more. Pale Aether streamed from her fingertips, sketching faint marks along the wall like moonlight scratches. Cloaked in Aether, she slipped off the street like mist.

Back at the lodging, a black-liveried attendant argued at the front door with Violet. She stood like a blade across the threshold, refusing him entry.

Aphelia whooshed through Aether, blinking into the room. A quick cover laid over her tracks, and she stepped out toward the door, air calm as still water.

What is it, Violet?

This gentleman insists on seeing you. I said you were resting. He even tried to force his way in.

One glance was enough; their thoughts clicked like paired chopsticks. It wasn’t their first dance. In a scene like this, neither Violet nor Aphelia left loose threads.

Seeing Aphelia emerge, the black-clad attendant blinked, then smoothed his face like pressed silk. Hands clasped behind his back, arrogance perched on him like a crow.

The Lord of the City sent me to inspect your luggage for contraband.

Where’s Miss Lilo?

Aphelia didn’t bother catching his line. Her tone was mild as tea, but the question cut clean.

The pale man, proud by habit, hadn’t expected the interruption. Color blotched his hollow cheeks, and his slanted moustache looked ready to curl to the heavens.

I said I’m here to check for contraband!

Are you questioning our lady? A mere attendant from the margins dares slight the Crimson Dragon Clan?!

Aphelia wore the guardian-maid mask with ease, poise like porcelain. In their spar of words, she stayed cool as lake ice and pressed him down by presence alone.

You… you…

He choked on temper, about to faint backward like a brittle reed.

Aphelia had no patience for small fry. She moved to shut the door, cutting him off like a knife. A pale hand snapped into the gap, fingers clamping the wood.

You’re a fun one, miss~

His voice sank hoarse and lewd, oil on gravel. She’d held back power to avoid flashing her hand—but the pale fist punched through the door. The blow blasted Aphelia across the room.

Her slim body slammed through timber, driven into a storage chest. Crates and bundles tumbled down like an avalanche, burying her in dust and splinters.

The fragile door burst into flying shards. The pale attendant slowly wiped his fist, caressing it like an art piece. His flimsy frame now leaked killing intent, a thin skin stretched over a beast.

Since you dare resist, it’s simple. Search squad, search!

He strode in. Behind him, black Rune armor filled the doorway like a rolling storm. Weapons up, they swarmed in, a hive gone mad.

Spotting Natalie, the attendant cackled, his hidden malice magnified like ink spread in water. He paced toward her, pressure sinking the air; Natalie’s Arcane Power stirred on reflex.

How amusing. Didn’t expect a fish slipping the net…

His gaze was wild and murky, a fool’s eyes in a gilded mask. Yet his movements were precise, a noble’s practiced grace. He brushed past Violet, simply ignoring her.

His target was clearly Natalie.

The Rune soldiers didn’t know the word restraint. They tore through the room, smashing and ransacking. Two tried to knock Violet out, but she flowed aside like willow shade.

Do you know who you’re crossing?!

Her roar was a staged flourish, and he paid it dust.

Who? Unless His Majesty himself descends, no one walks out of this city!

Oh? That so?

Seeing Aphelia blown away, Natalie started to draw power. A pale hand touched her shoulder, gentle as snow. Aphelia rose from the rubble, dusting herself off like rain from a cloak.

He froze at her steady silhouette, then laughed.

You can still fight? You think you can walk out? I’m telling you—no one here gets out today!

Tsk, tsk. You’re partly right…

Aphelia eased Natalie behind her and rolled her shoulders, bones whispering like wind-chimes. Facing the oncoming soldiers, she smiled bright as a blade catching sun.

Today, no one walks out of here.

Pale Aether flooded the room in a hush like falling ash. A precise ward locked the space tight; before the intruders could blink, Aphelia vanished from where she stood.

Five minutes later, only ruins and slaughter remained. Bodies burst into quarters by raw force, Rune armor twisted like tin. The soldiers became crumpled cans of flesh.

Only the black-clad attendant and one soldier lay bound in pure white Aether, pinned like moths.

Aphelia planted a boot, tipping both onto their backs. From above, her smile was winter-cold.

With this level of strength, killing me won’t be easy.

Kekeke. You really think holding us does you any good?

He sneered at the power she showed, as if defeat were a careless stumble. He didn’t even notice the bind on him wasn’t Arcane Power or spellwork.

The Rune squad’s leader joined the chorus, shameless and loud, as if consequences slid off him like rain off slate.

Aphelia knew the game. Stall, wait for the city’s reaction, call reinforcements like thunder. And if they dared move on her now, Lilo’s side had likely met ill luck.

Mm. Point taken. Still, let’s try this. What exactly are you hunting for?

She smiled at the black-clad man, voice soft as velvet. In her dark eyes, killing intent pooled like ink in a well.

Why would we ever—

A thread of pure white lanced through his skull. His exaggerated expression froze, his eyes went dull like burnt wicks. Blood flecked the Rune leader’s face; his mockery collapsed into a raw scream.

He writhed, trying to shove the corpse off him, scraping his cheek on the floor like he’d touched filth. Not a soldier’s composure—just panic. Disgust pricked Aphelia’s gaze like thorns.

Stop howling. It’s just a corpse. For a Rune soldier, you’re nothing like your comrades.

She waved it off, casual and cutting. The leader blinked, stunned; when a woman’s disdain burns that cold, it bites deeper than steel.

How can we compare to those monsters…

He muttered as if to prove a point. Then the slip hit him. Eyes wide, he locked on Aphelia like a trapped deer.

Aphelia tilted her head, a gentle smile like spring water, and leaned closer.

Go on. Those monsters—what are they?

Her fair face drew near, heat rising off him like a fever. Words spilled to his tongue, a pull like charm tugging at his will.

Behind him, Violet’s fingertip spun out a needle-thin thread of blood, touching the nape of his neck. She watched with a mischievous smile, eyes dancing.

They… are the Hunting Squad.