“The Hunting Squad?”

Aphelia and Lilo traded a look, a spark like flint under moonlight, then nodded toward the Rune soldiers’ leader.

“Talk. Who are they, really?”

“I… I can’t say…”

He ground his teeth like stones in a river, fighting a surge of pain. Pure-white Aether pinned him in place, yet his body trembled like frost-bitten leaves, each shake worse than the last.

Behind him, Violet plucked a blood-thread like a harp string, face a still lake. A trickle of Arcane Power slid from her fingertips, needling that thin red line.

No iron needed—stir a man’s blood, and agony blooms like nightshade. Aphelia wouldn’t waste a ripe moment; if he insisted on being stubborn, she’d double the storm.

But time was the rarest coin tonight. Those Rune heavy-armor soldiers she’d seen—the so-called Hunting Squad—fought like honed blades, elite in skill and strength.

They were nothing to Aphelia, but trouble for Violet and Natalie. Their kill-chain was crisp as a butcher’s cadence, motions pared to bone. A style that shunned Arcane Power—Aphelia had never seen its like.

Bottom line: get answers before those armored wolves came sniffing. In this haunted town, she refused to turtle behind a shield.

“Well? Made up your mind? Speak, or stay silent? I’ve got time to kill you slow.”

The Aether, white as winter ash, coiled his fingers. Invisible weight bent them backward; joints popped like dry twigs. His scream broke like glass, pleas spilling out.

“I’ll talk… I’ll say it all, just save me! I don’t want to die! That man—he’s a lunatic…”

“Say what matters, and I’ll decide if you live.”

Cold as mountain shade, Aphelia didn’t give an inch. Mercy now only taught him to fish for advantage.

He clenched again, tasting blood. The nape-thread tugged; pain flashed down his spine like lightning. His cry went raw. Thought drowned; words failed.

His eyes filmed with blood, his body a puppet jerking on burning strings.

“Fine… fine! I’ll talk…”

Aphelia flicked a glance; Violet eased the thread. Aether hauled him up like a hooked carp; any twitch, and Aphelia would cut the line.

Pain thinned. He gulped air. His lips, bruised purple, trembled. Under Aphelia’s hawk gaze, he gathered his scattered thoughts.

“The Hunting Squad… it’s the lord’s private army. Mostly orphans he raised, loyal to the bone. Don’t try your tricks on them… And you killed Rune soldiers; they’ll know.”

“So you do know you’re spineless, huh?”

Violet’s sneer bit like winter wind. He flinched, swallowed his pride, pushed on.

“They wear Rune heavy armor, top-grade stuff. The arrays etched on it—more than usual, or so I heard…”

“Get to the point.”

“Right, right… Their armor’s made to fight monsters. Their weapons are high-grade magitech, fueled by local Mana Crystals. I heard their firepower matches a normal Titleholder’s strike…”

Under Aphelia’s ice, he bobbed his head like a nervous sparrow and kept going.

“Monsters? What monsters?”

“Like that butler. They take the lord’s power and turn… neither human nor ghost. The Hunting Squad hunts those without ‘qualification.’ Lately, fewer sorties. The lord just told us to assist. That’s all I know…”

He stared at Aphelia, pleading, a child before thunder. She frowned, the ridge of her brow a drawn bow.

“One more thing. Why’s your town so quiet? It’s not that late. Does the lord trumpet every hunt and enforce curfew? Moreover—”

Moreover, not even a rustle of life—like a forest without birds.

“Curfew? Of course not. Everyone just hides on their own, orderly, naturally. Why would we need a curfew? Isn’t that obvious?”

For once, the Rune leader’s confusion rang true, like a bell in clear air. Aphelia felt a wrongness creep in, a cold hand at the nape.

Before she could press, he shrieked. His body convulsed like a fish netted from black water. The new pain eclipsed the old; veins bulged under skin, crawling from neck to brow like twisted worms.

“Violet!”

“Not me! Something’s inside him!”

Violet snapped the link; the blood-thread fell, scarlet as fresh cut, and hissed where it kissed the floor, like acid on bone.

“Help me…”

His voice shredded. His eyes bulged; limbs bent to unnatural angles. He slipped Aether’s hold and smacked the ground. Something inside pressed to be born.

A roar ripped from his chest, a beast waking in a cave. Tentacles burst along his cheeks and whipped the room; stone shards spat like grit. One tentacle lashed for Natalie, bold as a wolf, ignoring Aphelia.

Aphelia’s gaze sharpened to a blade. She stepped in. Pure-white Aether turned into long spikes, nailing the raging limbs to the floor. A crystal blossom arced out, petals radiant, and fell as a veil of light, cocooning the thing no longer human.

Its struggle came like an earthquake under ice, jolting Aphelia. She pressed down; Aether hardened into a wall of light, pinning the monster like a moth in amber.

“Move!”

Lilo was already in motion. Blood became twin Demonic Spears, slick and sharp. She vaulted past the cocoon, seized Natalie, and shot for the back door.

As expected, several Rune soldiers waited there, minds drifting like smoke, convinced the front squad would handle it. That smugness cost them breath.

Crimson Demonic Spears punched through their throats, neat as needles. A ghostlike smear of blood darted through, reaping them in a heartbeat, leaving no time to cry for help.

Natalie trembled, fear rooted deep like frost in bone, unable to step past the threshold. Violet frowned, but time was a blade at their backs. She kept her voice low.

“Move.”

Natalie didn’t hear, or couldn’t. She shook, feet nailed to the floor. Frustration pricked Violet’s skin. Blood-threads whipped out, bundling the corpses, buying moments against the Hunting Squad’s search.

A shadow dropped above—a night-born demon, silent and lethal. Cold light flicked toward Violet’s throat, merciless as a guillotine.

Clang!!!

A crimson Demonic Spear flew at an inhuman angle, spearing for the black demon. Violet’s stance shifted; she crouched low, both hands on the weapon. Wine-red eyes flooded with blood-hue, and she swept upward for the shade.

A spark flared in the dark as blades met. The black demon twisted past the thrown spear, but couldn’t evade the rising sweep. Power surged from Violet’s slender frame like a storm through pines. The shadow flew, a meteor punching through buildings across the street.

One strike landed. She meant to haul Natalie and go. But when she raised her eyes, more such shadows flowered along the tower ahead, silhouettes carved by the dim moon. A clutch of fang-baring fiends watched, hungry and still.

They’d found them. No avoiding the fight.

Blood-threads peeled from the corpses and wrapped Violet. In a blink, a snarling blood-armor clothed her like a second skin. Several crimson Demonic Spears rose across her back, a thorned crown.

Violet breathed out long; in the cold, it drifted as pale mist. The demons vanished from the rooftop.

Lilo drew a finger across her lips, painting them blood-red. She chuckled softly and lowered the cruel ghost mask.