In a moonless night, silence settled like a death shroud. Even the wind dared not speak.

All watching as a swarm of bats circled and dove toward a simple, easy-to-miss shack built in the northeastern part of the city.

It was a place that most people would avoid. Wedged between an abandoned granary and a rotting fence, the shack looked like it had been forgotten by time, forgotten by purpose. Mold crept up its stone foundation like rot rising through veins. The lantern outside hadn’t been lit in years. No holy runes marked the doorway. No one blessed this place.

Which made it a perfect secret prison. A place for things that should not be found.

The bats collided against the warped rooftop, and with a flutter of shadows, they merged—flesh melting from wings, bone shaping back into a woman wrapped in silk, leather, and moonlight.

V stood atop the roof for a heartbeat, crimson eyes narrow, lips pressed in a thin line.

She smelled pain.

Old, lingering. Like rusted chains and dried blood soaked deep into the floorboards. The kind of suffering that didn’t scream anymore—just waited, dull and endless, for death or worse.

She descended with grace, her coat rippling like liquid shadow as she landed silently at the door.

No guards. No lights. No prayers.

Just the stench of forgotten sins.

She pressed her gloved hand against the wood. The wards were crude—Church-made, but old and lazy. Designed to keep in, not keep out. They fizzled under her touch, peeling away like burnt parchment.

Click.

The lock gave with a soft, defeated sigh.

“!!!” The moment V stepped in, she immediately noticed the magical barrier on the far end of the room. It was covered in a heavy veil of golden magic, and the moment V sensed that spell, she instantly became alert, scanning the area for anyone. Fortunately, she found no trap. But that didn’t mean the prison wasn’t watched.

V focused her hearing, and in seconds, she picked the faint sound of breathing somewhere close coming from below.

‘The prison is underground,’ she thought, her mind racing with ideas on how to bypass the barrier into the prison.

‘This is why pockets are divine’

With a wide grin, V pulled a small black powder bomb. In a world filled with magic, these things tend to get overlooked by many. I mean, why would a mage use a black powder bomb when he could just cast a fireball spell and inflict ten times the damage?

However, V understood their usefulness; the big reason was that, unlike spells, bombs don’t leave a magical residue that can be traced back to the user.

‘Let’s call our hosts,’ V mused, throwing the little bomb outside and jumping to the ceiling with extraordinary strength and grace.

BooM!

“…”

Outside, the explosion was loud enough to startle a group of cats that screeched and disappeared into the shadows.

As for the watcher down below, the moment the bomb exploded, he was taken by surprise, hissing in pain as he quickly stood up he didn’t know what that was, but no matter what, he must check it and report it; otherwise, he would be responsible for all the damage.

“Fuck” he whispered, cursing in the darkness. “All of you go and check what happened.”

Inside the shack, dust fell from the ceiling like dead skin.

V clung to the beams above, body folded unnaturally between rafters like a predator nesting in darkness. Her coat draped like a shadow around her, motionless, silent.

She waited. Seconds passed.

Then—

Thud! Thud!

Footsteps. Fast. Armored.

Three, maybe four sets. From the front. One heavier—likely a knight. The rest, lighter, cloaked, probably Church inquisitors or clerics assigned to keep the prison “off-book.”

Surprisingly, they came from an unexpected location. Instead of coming from below the ground and rushing to check the explosion, the group of Church knights appeared from behind the cold fireplace, a hidden passage, cleverly disguised by soot and stone, groaned open as a segment of the wall pivoted with a soft hiss of magic.

‘Ah. So that’s the real entrance.’ V’s eyes narrowed. ‘Maybe it’s only for the guards?’

The knight stepped out first, tall and broad-shouldered, clad in black-enameled plate etched with faded holy symbols. A greatsword hung from his back, but his hand rested on a morningstar at his belt—closer, faster. His face was hidden behind a helm shaped like a snarling hound.

“Check the perimeter!” he barked. “Make sure the seal’s intact—nothing touched the barrier.”

The three inquisitors moved swiftly, fanning out with trained precision, one of them—the youngest—placed both palms on the golden barrier, his eyes closed, chanting a spell to scan the barrier’s condition.

Meanwhile, the knight remained near the hidden entrance, back to the fireplace, his posture tense and coiled. Not afraid. Focused. Like a wolf waiting for the first sign of blood. He didn’t draw his weapon. Not yet. That told her he was confident—or stupid.

“The barrier is safe,” the young inquisitor said, his tone clear and strong. “No one crossed.”

“Good,” the knight nodded. “Now return inside and make sure to keep an eye on the prisoner at all times.”

“Yes, sir!” the inquisitor replied, preparing to head inside. As for the knight, he took a few steps inside the shack for one last check.

He scanned every single corner and then the rafters. Slowly.

‘Don’t look up,’ V thought, tensing like a coiled spring.

Then his helm tilted—an inch, no more—his eyes locking straight onto the beam where she crouched.

‘Damn!’

“Ceiling!” he barked, one hand going to his morningstar. But V was already moving.

She didn’t have much time, and she couldn’t afford any risk; besides, her original goal was simply to chat a bit with Leonardo—now the prisoner—and if possible, acquire his assistance, but choice or not,

The situation at hand had changed, and the night had become far more… fun.

V dropped like a dagger. Her heel slammed into the helm of the knight with a bone-crunching clang, driving his head down as she twisted mid-air, landing in a crouch behind him. Shadows flared around her, reacting to her intent like living weapons.

“UGH!” The knight staggered, dazed but not down. His helm saved his life—cracked, but intact. He swung the morningstar in a brutal arc, metal shrieking through the air, but V was already gone, and exploded into a swarm of bats.

The cry of “Intruder!” was barely out before V reformed—half-bats, half-woman—behind the second inquisitor.

She didn’t waste breath. A flick of her wrist, and a blood-tendril shot forward, piercing through his chest with a wet crack. He gasped, eyes wide, blood blooming from his mouth like a ruined prayer. He dropped.

“AHHHH!” The youngest screamed—not a war cry, but a boy’s terror—just witnessing his friend impaled in front of him, he lost all courage. His limbs started trembling like a scared puppy. His gaze darted everywhere as if begging for help or some hope that this was just a nightmare he could wake up from. And in a situation like this, cowards tend to act in a stupid way for their allies.

“Stay away from me!” he panicked, quickly turning, facing the golden barrier, and starting to chant a new spell to tear the magical prison’s walls open so he could escape.

“STOP YOU FOOL!” the knight roared, trying to stop the idiocy of the young inquisitor. Sadly for him, another strong kick slammed into the side of his helm, sending him crashing into the fireplace with a metallic crunch. The wall groaned with the impact. Bricks cracked. Blood misted from under the edges of his armor.

V spun, already moving, swiftly dispatching the other inquisitor that decided to stay and fight, leaving only the young one.

The boy didn’t even notice her. He was too busy muttering frantic syllables, hands pressed to the golden barrier, the spell unraveling from his lips with desperation instead of control. Light surged beneath his palms—unstable, wild.

‘Good boy,’ V smiled, watching as a small hole was opened in the middle of the golden barrier.

“Yes!” the young boy sobbed with joy, seeing that the spell wasn’t failing, and once the hole in the barrier was big enough, he’d run inside the prison and hide there until the danger was over.

And the hole was getting larger and larger until a voice spoke behind him, the voice alone froze the blood in his veins.

“Such talent.”

“Huh??” The young inquisitor turned slowly and met those crimson eyes he had prayed not to face. His mouth worked, but no sound came out.

V stood just behind him—so close he could see the reflection of his own terror in her crimson eyes.

“You’re a sweet little coward,” she said gently, almost kindly. “Opening the door for me? How generous. And brave. Your comrades would be proud.”

With one single slice, the young boy’s head hit the ground with a thud.

“…but you’re too dumb.”

Immediately after that, V jumped into the hole in the golden barrier, but not before leaving an explosive surprise behind her.

BOOOM!.

….

Once inside, V found herself in a wide hall with prison cells on each side. All were empty except the farthest one.

“Oh, there you are, Leo.”

Chained to the wall, a man with the signature long golden hair of the people of Vandor and golden eyes that opened up the moment he heard someone speak.

“Listen, man, I’ve come here to rescu—” V didn’t get the chance to finish her words. A wave of energy sent her flying across the hall, and her back hit the wall with a shattering crack.

“UGH…what the fuck?” V coughed, brushing blood from her lip. She didn’t know where the attack came from, but one thing was sure—her daywalker senses were unable to detect it.

“Huh?” But when she gazed up, she realized where it had come from.

“Death to the heretic, the xeno, and the un-pure.”

The man who was supposed to be chained was now free and towering above V, staring down at her, his gaze cold and cruel.

“May the light of Uriel cleanse the sin from your bones!”

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep