Through the hall windows, the eastern sky paled to fish-belly white. Dew clung to grass and leaves in the courtyard. The grueling night had finally passed. Daybreak came.

Just as dawn broke, the three—excluding Nerlis—roused the sleepers before collapsing into slumber themselves. The newly awakened took over watch. Given everyone’s frayed nerves, preserving rest was essential.

“Everyone,” York said upon waking, his first words of the day. “Stay united. Stay vigilant against the killer. Remember: however it unfolds, surviving the next two days is our victory.” Though hollow of substance, “surviving the remaining time” had become their shared lifeline.

Everyone except Ellen—

“Come on! Damn you, come on! You cowardly dog!” Her bloodshot eyes blazed as she roared words no noble lady should know. “Stop hiding like a spineless worm! Face me! For Anhans… for Father’s vengeance! Pay with your life!!!”

Silence answered her. She held her sword ready, stance rigid. No snarling assailant leaped out. After a long moment, she gave up, resuming her seat with a terrifying expression while polishing her blade.

—

…

…

……

Day passed again.

By noon, all had slept enough. They regrouped, moving as one to search every room in order of proximity. Each restocked supplies (Liliana, Nia, Ellen, and Chloe carried ample food—especially Liliana and Nia). This time, every room was ransacked thoroughly. No one was spared. Liliana resisted fiercely (SM gear surfaced from her wardrobe). Nia scowled (matching gear emerged from his closet). Yet the search concluded smoothly.

No evidence implicating any room’s owner as the killer surfaced. Relief and unease warred within them.

Back in the hall, they settled into tedious waiting. Some relaxed slightly from Day One. Most grew tenser. The killer hadn’t struck on the first day—meaning action would likely come on Day Two or Three. With Harvest Festival ending after Day Three, servants would return to the manor. Day Two held the highest risk.

Dinner that night was heavier with dread than the last. York, Lux, and Ellen ate tasteless rations. Chloe, Molly, and Nia had light meals. Liliana nibbled hidden delicacies. I drank Sekford Worm nutrient fluid as usual—squeezed into a bowl this time, less nauseating than yesterday. Others still kept their distance.

Silence reigned.

“…”

I subtly gathered inconspicuous worms nearby. A primal danger sense prickled—instinct honed by insects.

Night deepened. Time for watch rotations neared. Positions shifted slightly from yesterday: I kept my chair; Molly huddled pitifully at the hall’s center; York switched sofas; Lux sat near the inner door; Ellen paced between Molly and Liliana, polishing her sword; Chloe mechanically patrolled the walls, checking the temporary barrier.

The hall was sealed by Chloe’s barrier—a fire-imbued magic that would incinerate anyone trying to breach it inward or outward. Silver-white slashes marked weak points like windows and doors: Ellen’s “sword aura” seals. Intruders nearing them would be sliced. Combined with Chloe’s barrier, the hall was fortress-tight.

—

“…”

*He* swallowed the bland dinner, mind razor-focused while feigning exhaustion.

York’s tactic was crude but effective. Forcing everyone together under mutual watch, rotating guards—it might not flush out the killer, but it guaranteed collective safety.

*He* couldn’t wait any longer.

Tomorrow was the final day. Time was too tight. Even if he succeeded, escaping the country afterward was uncertain.

…*Strike now?*

Everyone ate late. Post-meal drowsiness set in as blood pooled in stomachs, dulling minds. Though nerves were taut, vigilance had slackened—just a fraction.

Most posed no threat. The sole dangerous one was emotionally shattered, preoccupied with barrier checks.

Speed. Ruthlessness. Overwhelming burst power. That was all it would take.

And burst power was *his* greatest strength.

—

It happened in a heartbeat.

York yawned, fatigue catching up.

Lux bent to organize magic scrolls.

Liliana clenched her thighs, fighting a fresh urge to pee.

Nia dozed off.

Chloe’s focus narrowed on the barrier.

Molly rubbed her eyes.

Nerlis adjusted the breeding tank’s shade.

For a split second—just a split second—every attention wavered.

To a master, that was a fatal opening.

The first sword flash caught no one’s eye.

Too fast. Too sudden.

As if the blade claimed its target the instant it left its sheath.

“How—”

“Huh—”

“Why—”

The quickest reactors moved too late. A single heartbeat’s delay decided life and death for this combat-specialized elite.

Molly never even gasped. A wind-edged blade, forged from magic, sheared through her. Perfect angle. Perfect timing. A silver glint—her head flew off.

From Ellen’s explosive lunge to Molly’s decapitation: less than half a second.

Shock. Confusion. Grief. Flashed through York’s eyes. *Why her? Why now?*—thoughts drowned by instinct.

“STOP HER!!!!!!!” His raw scream jolted the stunned crowd. He ripped out mini-magic scrolls to hurl. Nerlis’s insects swarmed. The barrier’s auto-defense tagged Ellen as hostile, raining fire—

“ROOOOAAARRRRRRRRR——!!!!!!!”

A Battle Cry—the Mystic Warrior’s signature skill! Attacks from three directions shattered. Everyone reeled from dizziness; the frail collapsed. Three seconds. Three seconds of utter paralysis.

Three seconds where they were all motionless targets. But York and Lux had scroll wards. Chloe had ice shields. Liliana and Nia cowered in the farthest corner. A single strike couldn’t guarantee wiping them all out.

Ellen didn’t linger.

As a High-Rank Mystic Warrior, she could’ve shattered the hall with one technique. But Chloe remained—a counterbalance. Though Chloe couldn’t match her in pure combat, with others interfering, staying meant death.

In those three seconds, Ellen ignored everyone else. Her blade flashed—not at the living, but at Molly’s headless corpse. One second to aim. One precise thrust. Her sword slipped between ribs, parting flesh, fat, bone, lung with surgical grace. The heart detached cleanly, vessels intact.

*Got it!*

She ripped out the blood-soaked heart, stuffed it into her robes, and charged toward the inner door—the gateway deeper into the manor.

The entire sequence flowed in under three seconds. As the Battle Cry’s stun faded, movement returned. Chloe frantically cast. Ice sheeted the floor. A fire wall erupted before Ellen—

Flames ahead. Ice behind. But panic-weakened magic couldn’t stop a High-Rank Mystic Warrior. Her boots froze on contact—then she flooded them with magic, shattering the ice. One swing of her greatsword cleaved the fire wall apart.

*No!* Basic spells couldn’t pierce a Mystic Warrior’s defense. Their core skill—channeling magic to form a protective “Mystic Armor” over their skin—would shrug off Chloe’s hasty spells. Weaving stronger magic took time she didn’t have.

More fire walls flared, slowing Ellen fractionally. Useless. She’d reach the inner halls before Chloe could chant a lethal spell. High-speed incantation was a battle-mage’s art—Chloe had never mastered it.

Then—

“CHLOE! THE BARRIER!” York bellowed.

“Flame Generals! Block her path!”

The door’s barrier rippled violently. Two humanoid figures of solidified fire surged forth, sealing the exit—

*CRACK!!!*

They collapsed instantly. Ellen’s earlier “sword aura” seals on the door had sabotaged them. *She never meant to trap the killer,* York realized with horror. *She meant to break the barrier for her escape.*

“CHLOE, NOW!!!”

“Ghh—yes! Branches of wrathful flame, coil through the void, bloom—”

Too late. Ellen’s foot crossed the threshold. Unstoppable.

“ST-STOP HER!!!!”

Lux. He’d lingered near the door. Closest to Ellen now. He ripped off the necklace of metal scroll-cases around his neck and hurled them all at her.

A High-Rank Mystic Warrior versus a magic-illiterate novice.

The outcome was never in doubt.

“NO!!! LUX, GET BACK!!!!” York’s scream tore his throat raw. Time slowed: Ellen’s blade flickered, shredding every unactivated scroll. Panicked, Lux was seized by the throat—

—then spun around.

Ellen pivoted, back to the open door, Lux clutched against her chest. She leaped backward just as Chloe’s chant finished. A massive, branch-like gout of solidified flame erupted toward Ellen. Too late, Chloe saw Lux become a human shield. Such magic couldn’t be recalled.

“HELP—”

Lux’s hand stretched toward York, a plea cut short as fiery branches coiled around him, bursting into spark-flowers.

Then—

**BOOM.**