The manor was eerily quiet as Liam and Charlotte made their way through the dimly lit corridor. The candle sconces lining the walls flickered weakly, casting shifting shadows across the walls.

Charlotte took the lead as she made use of her jaguar eyes, adjusting smoothly to the darkness. Her nose twitched softly as she sniffed the air. “This place does smell like a serial killer’s manor, wood rot… stale perfume for who ever it is,” she murmured. “But I’ll tell you if anything out of place crosses my path.”

Liam trailed behind her, less concerned with physical senses and more tuned into the subtle threads of myst woven around them. His myst perception shimmered like a spiderweb in his mind, mapping out minor magical signatures in the walls and floor. Alongside that, he made use of his nose as well as he tracked myst residues.

Charlotte threw him a sideways glance, her voice dipping into a purr. “You know, walking in the dark like this, just the two of us… it almost feels like a date. You sure you’re not planning to sweep me off my feet after we kill a serial killer?”

Liam gave no answer as his mind was more focused on finding Biant Hue swiftly. The sooner this test was done, the sooner he could preserve his strength… and focus on scanning the entire academy for hybrids.

They reached a turn, the corridor shifting left into a longer hallway, and Charlotte’s steps slowed. She raised one hand to signal a stop, her nose wrinkling as her jaguar instincts kicked in. “Wait,” she said, tone suddenly serious. “There’s blood. Lots of it. I can smell it all around that hall. It’s recent. Whatever’s down there… I’d rather not tango with it without knowing what it is.”

Liam paused, looking down the hallway, then casually turned to the wall on his right. There, an antique mirror hung—dusty, cracked at the corners, but intact.

Without hesitation, he drove his fist into it.

Crash—

Charlotte jumped, eyes wide. “Are you crazy?! That could alert anyone in this place! What the hell was—”

“Shh,” Liam cut in, voice low and deliberate. “Did you hear that?”

She blinked. “Hear what?”

“Exactly.”

Charlotte’s expression shifted as her ears perked. There was no sound. Not the mirror breaking. Not their own breathing. Not even the soft thud of her boots against the floor.

She whispered, startled, “There’s no footsteps… or any echoes…”

“We’re being followed,” Liam said, eyes narrowing down the corridor.

Charlotte’s voice was barely above a breath. “How do you know?”

“I don’t,” he replied coolly. “But I’ve seen this spell used before. It’s not silence—it’s removal.” A flicker of memory stabbed at his mind—Kaine, in the dead of night, masking his presence with an invisibility weave layered under a Silent Spell. It had nearly killed him then.

He refused to be caught off-guard again.

He crouched down slowly, placing his left hand against the floor. A soft hum of myst vibrated through the air as red and orange light pulsed from his palm.

‘I hate when Silent and Invisibility are used at the same time,’ he thought bitterly.

A heartbeat later, a sudden pulse of heat erupted from Liam’s hand, rushing down the hallway like a wave of warm wind, invisible but potent. The heat would disrupt air distortion, force movement from hidden figures, and potentially fry any nearby illusionary cloaks.

Charlotte watched it ripple through the corridor, her smile returning. “Okay… that was hot. In every sense of the word.”

Liam said nothing. His eyes were already fixed ahead, watching and waiting for the slightest movements.

And then—Liam saw it. The faintest shift in the shadows. Three subtle movements—too precise, too synchronized to be accidental.

In a blink, a dagger flared into his right hand, and with a burst of fire erupting from beneath his feet, he vanished with a Flame Dash.

Charlotte barely had time to register the heat flash before he was already upon them.

The moment Liam closed the gap, three figures shimmered into view—stealth enchantments burned away by his approach. They lunged, weapons raised, but they were a second too slow.

Liam moved like liquid fire.

With one slash, he severed the arm of the first attacker. Another flick and he took the leg of the second. Without breaking stride, he rammed his blade clean through the third’s neck, the head snapping back with a spray of blood. He spun mid-step, the momentum turning him in a graceful arc, and with a clean sweep, he beheaded the first two.

All five strikes, in one breath.

When his boots touched down again, it was in utter silence.

Three bodies hit the floor behind him.

Liam stood still, blade dripping, eyes cold as they swept the hallway. ‘Just three? That’s not right.’

Behind him, Charlotte blinked in shock. She’d seen fast fighters before. She was a fast fighter. But Liam’s movements had been something else—frightening in how smooth and decisive they were.

‘His speed’s… terrifying. Not gonna lie. But damn, that only makes him hotter.’

She sauntered forward with a wry smile. “You really do love keeping me safe, huh, babe?”

Liam didn’t look at her. His gaze was fixed back down the hall they’d come from. “Charlotte,” he said quietly. “Do you smell anything else?”

Her expression shifted. She paused, turned her head, and sniffed the air.

“…No… Wait.” Her nose twitched again. “Yeah. People. Coming from that direction…” She turned her head to the other side. “And that one too. We’re surrounded.”

“How many?” Liam asked.

She narrowed her eyes. “Close to twenty… from each side.”

Liam’s jaw tensed. “Forty.”

‘Too many for a stealth kill.’

He turned the thought over in his mind rapidly. ‘If we’re already being attacked, then this isn’t a clean assassination. Biant Hue must already be aware of the intrusion. Which means… the objective has changed.’

‘Guess we go loud.’

“Charlotte,” he said, voice low but steady. “Let’s finish this fast and find Hue.”

She grinned, her eyes glowing with feral light as her body shimmered and shifted into her sleek, half-beast form—skin turning to spotted fur, fingers becoming claws.

“Understood, babe,” she purred, stepping back-to-back with him.

Liam raised his dagger, fire coiling around his free hand.

The hallway fell into a deadly stillness. Then, without warning, masked figures emerged from the shadows at both ends of the corridor—twenty from each side, clad in dark, form-fitting garb, faces hidden behind smooth obsidian masks.

Their weapons glinted: curved swords, jagged daggers, short spears. They moved with eerie coordination, no wasted motion, no hesitation. These weren’t simple constructs. Whoever or whatever Seraphina had conjured into this test, it was the most refined simulation they’d ever faced.

Liam raised his dagger in a reverse grip, fire beginning to curl around his left arm like a living ribbon. Beside him, Charlotte dropped into a low stance, claws extended, tail flicking behind her as her jaguar eyes locked onto the approaching threats.

They didn’t speak.

They just moved.

The first wave came fast—five from each direction. Liam lunged forward, his dagger clashing against steel as he parried an overhead strike. He ducked low, pivoted on his heel, and swept the enemy’s legs out. Without rising, he twisted his torso and released a burst of flame upward into the second attacker’s chest, sending the figure flying backward, armor smoldering.

At the same time, Charlotte blurred into motion beside him, vaulting into a spinning kick that knocked a blade out of an enemy’s grip. She followed it with a claw swipe across their throat. Another figure lunged at her from the side, but she twisted her body mid-air, using her tail to anchor her to the wall for just a second. She sprang down and pinned the attacker beneath her knees, sinking her claws into their gut.

Back-to-back, Liam and Charlotte flowed around each other like gears in the same machine. He moved with the precision of a strategist, she with the unpredictability of a predator.

One figure tried to flank Liam from behind. Charlotte caught the motion, ducked under a swing meant for her, and drove her claws through the flanker’s ribs. Liam didn’t even glance back—he trusted her.

He moved in spirals, using his flame dash not only to attack but to redirect momentum. He’d strike, burn, reposition. Always one step ahead. His blade danced in tight, efficient arcs, each strike fatal, each movement conservative. His free hand cast sudden gouts of fire, aiming not to kill but to disorient—setting up Charlotte to finish the job.

Charlotte, for her part, was a whirlwind of grace and ferocity. She slid beneath legs, jumped over shoulders, twisted between enemies with impossible agility. Her claws slashed through cloth and flesh, her feet planted where they needed to be with catlike surety. She often used Liam’s back, shoulder, or even his arm as springboards—he adjusted without complaint, matching her movements without losing tempo.

Ten down.

Fifteen.

Twenty-five.

The masked figures began to adjust, getting faster, more aggressive.

Three came at Liam at once, their coordination nearly flawless. He blocked a thrust, spun around to deflect another, but the third came too low. Before it could strike, Charlotte landed on its back, drove her claws into its neck, and kicked off, flipping over Liam’s head and landing behind him just in time to claw across another attacker’s jaw.

“Nice,” Liam muttered under his breath.

“Of course it was,” she panted. “I’m fabulous.”

More fell. Thirty. Then thirty-six.

Now just three remained—two facing Charlotte, one tangling with Liam, fast and clever.

Then came the moment.

Liam struck at his opponent with a sweeping arc. The masked figure ducked and came in low. Just as the enemy prepared to stab upward, Charlotte suddenly lunged toward Liam’s side, claws raised—looking for all the world like she was about to attack him.

The enemy hesitated.

Liam didn’t.

He ducked under Charlotte’s strike with perfect timing, the blade meant for him instead sinking into the masked figure’s exposed neck. Blood sprayed as the attacker fell.

As Liam moved, his left arm stretched past Charlotte’s head—mere inches from her ear—and a jet of flame roared outward, catching the two enemies charging her from behind.

The explosion engulfed them, their screams lost in the fiery blast. The corridor lit up like a furnace for a split second, then faded into silence.

All forty were down.

Their corpses littered the hallway, some burned, some torn, some dismembered by strikes. The air reeked of scorched flesh and sweat.

Liam and Charlotte remained still for a moment, catching their breath.

Then they turned toward each other—face to face, inches apart. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, eyes glowing with adrenaline and heat. Liam’s expression was cool, calm, but his breathing betrayed the strain of the battle.

Their lips were close. Almost touching.

Charlotte gave him a slow, sultry smirk.

“Well,” she murmured, voice low and teasing, “if this was our first date, I’d say it was explosive.”

Liam didn’t smile as he stepped back.

“Focus,” he said.

Charlotte chuckled, a wicked glint in her eye. “Oh, I am. Just… maybe not on the mission.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep