Around the time the carriage was about to reach the centre of the city, it was already late into the night. They had spent a lot of time in the slave market after all.
"Seven days," Selia murmured as they passed beneath a collapsed archway. "I’ll bring them to your village then. Quietly. No one will know where they came from." Her voice was soft, but cold. "I’ll wipe the memories of the merchants, and the overseer, too."
Nolan didn’t respond. She was still processing the weight of what she had just done. 320 children. All broken. All hers now. Not as tools. Not as soldiers—not yet. But as lives she had sworn to reshape.
The carriage continued forward, passing through a silent street that led to the centre of the city. The silence was deafening; this street was not too far from the bustling city centre. So, it was suspicious for it to be so silent.
Selia’s eyes narrowed.
"They’re watching us."
"I noticed." Nolan’s voice was calm.
She had sensed it too, movement across rooftops, a faint metallic scent on the wind, magic laced in the air. Not the high-circle kind, but numerous and all around them.
The carriage continued a little farther before it suddenly turned into a rotted stable. Moonlight filtered through gaps in the beams. Selia muttered a spell, and a silencing barrier sealed the carriage in an instant.
"You felt it too?"
"20 people in total," Nolan replied. "Six have been following us since we entered the marketplace. The others started watching when we left."
Selia’s frown deepened. "Not the city guards. Not the market’s scouts either. Too sloppy for professionals, too bold for common thieves."
"Then who?" Nolan asked as she looked outside the open carriage window and peered out.
"Someone’s growing confident in my city."
Selia’s eyes glowed faintly violet. "I’ll show you."
She reached into her sleeve and drew out a folded parchment, sealed in wax with the emblem of the Temple. As she opened it, glowing runes flared across the page, revealing a map of Lunareth's undercity—marked with red pins.
She glanced at Nolan before asking," How old are you?"
Nolan was surprised but answered without hesitation. "Ten years old, I'll be turning eleven in a couple of months."
Selia frowned after hearing this, but she continued speaking.
"Children have been vanishing in the city," she said quietly. "Over 200 cases across the whole city. Officially, they're 'missing.' Unofficially, they're being taken. Most from orphanages, temples, or streets. All 10 years or older. No bodies. No ransoms..." Selia paused, looking at Nolan before continuing.
"But lately, even noble children and children from the surrounding villages have been going missing. Children with unique features and those who are exceptionally beautiful, most of them girls around your age."
Nolan’s face darkened upon hearing this.
"A group called the Ash Hands may be behind it," Selia continued. "A cult. Half mercenaries, half madmen. They believe the gods are reborn through suffering. And that children are the purest vessels."
"Let me guess," Nolan said, "they turn them into living sacrifices."
Selia hesitated. "Worse. They’re trying to craft 'god-cores'—divine vessels. They’ve failed so far. But they’re getting bolder. Their latest hideout surfaced near the outskirts of Lunareth 2 nights ago. Burned down from the inside."
Nolan raised an eyebrow. "Who did it?"
"We don’t know." Selia frowned. "But there were traces of old magic. Blood runes. And a circle of untouched children in the basement. Ten of them. Sitting. Smiling. Blank-eyed."
A heavy silence followed.
"They’re searching for something," Selia said. "Or someone."
Nolan crossed her arms as she fell into deep thought, from the information given by Selia, it was clear these people were looking for an unusual girl with unique features. Nolan's original appearance fit the description perfectly, but even with her features hidden by magic, her captivating face was enough for them to try their luck.
"They’re looking for me." Nolan said as she continued, "They must have noticed me at the marketplace and followed us out here to take me."
Selia looked at her sharply but said nothing. She didn’t need to.
"Then we let them," Nolan said, stepping out of the carriage and turning toward the silent street. "Let the Ash Hands come. I want them to try."
Meanwhile, deep below Lunareth...
Far from the crumbling alleys and moonlit rooftops, a chamber of crimson glass pulsed in the bowels of the city. Veins of dark magic crawled across the walls like roots. Hooded figures surrounded a massive obsidian altar; their hands raised in silent prayer.
"The girl has appeared," whispered the tallest of them, his voice like broken stone. "She's not in her true form, but I can sense that it's indeed her."
"Is she really the core?" The cloaked woman with red eyes shining in the dark asked. "She is the core."
The man turned towards a cage at the far end of the room. Inside, many young girls sat huddled, their eyes blank and devoid of life. They were like puppets, with no lingering sense of their previous selves.
"Release them." He said, before turning to walk towards the altar, "Some of them might awaken in the future so don't kill a single one of them."
The red eyed woman remained silent.
She waved her hand after that, and the cage door swung open. The girls stumbled out, their limbs trembling. Without a word, they dragged their feet toward a hidden tunnel, following some unheard command.
She turned back to the altar. "The Core will be captured soon. We must prepare the Mark."
Back on the surface, Nolan straightened her dress, stepping out into the moonlight. She glanced at Selia, who gave her a rare, sharp grin. "Let me have some fun too, alright?"
Twenty cloaked figures emerged from rooftops and alleys, circling them.
One stepped forward. A masked man with a jagged blade. His eyes drilled into Nolan like a predator sizing up prey. "Little girl... You're coming with us."
Nolan sighed, her small fingers flexing. "You sure you want to do this?"
The man smirked. "You don't get a choice."
Suddenly, Selia vanished behind Nolan.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The next moment, five cloaked figures dropped—unconscious, magic binds sucking their mana.
The masked man's smirk faltered. "What?!"
Before he could react, Nolan appeared behind him, her small hand grabbing his throat.
"You picked the wrong person today," she whispered.
Nolan’s grip tightened around the man’s throat, his pulse thudding under her fingers. She could feel the sweat on his skin, the nervous tremor in his breath. A weakling, just like the rest. They always thought their numbers would be enough to defeat her.
The masked man’s eyes widened in terror as he tried to form a chant, but Nolan didn’t give him the chance. Her knees bent, and with a sharp twist of her body, she slammed her shoulder into his chest, sending him crashing to the ground.
Boom!!
She didn’t waste a moment. The sword at her side—a short, curved blade forged from dark steel but infused with elemental energy—whistled through the air. She struck before he could rise.
Slash!
Her sword arced across his throat, cutting through the air with a speed that left no room for hesitation. The man’s scream was muffled as blood sprayed, splattering across the cracked cobblestones.
As his body crumpled, Nolan’s gaze swept across the circle of enemies surrounding her. The others had taken a step back, clearly calculating their next move. They were magicians—of varying power, no doubt—but all of them had underestimated her. They thought her appearance as a child would make capturing her easy. But that was a foolish assumption.
Her feet shifted, the soft sound of her heels barely audible on the ground. With a simple swipe of her sword, Nolan sent a bolt of wind slicing through the air, cutting the legs out from under 2 magicians attempting to flank her.
""Aaaaaaaaah!!"" They screamed in agony, falling to the ground as they were sent sprawling.
She moved, a blur of precision and violence. A flick of her wrist, and the sword hummed, conjuring a gust of air so sharp it cleaved through the robes of a 3rd attacker. He didn’t even have time to react before Nolan was on him, her blade buried in his stomach. She twisted it, ripping it upwards as though cutting through the layers of his body itself. His eyes widened, his mouth opening in silent agony before he collapsed, blood pooling around him.
The remaining magicians hesitated. They had underestimated her. They had all underestimated her.
"Come," Nolan said, her voice cold and dangerous, "I’m just getting started."
One of the figures, a tall man with a jagged staff that crackled with dark energy, took a step forward. He raised the staff, the air around them warping as he began to chant. His voice was low and rumbling, power building in his palms.
Nolan saw him. She saw his fear and his desperation. And, above all, his hesitation.
With a flick of her wrist, Nolan hurled herself forward, moving faster than the eye could track. She ducked beneath his staff just as a bolt of lightning surged towards her. The air shimmered from the intensity of the magic, but Nolan was already closing the distance.
The sword danced in her hand, its edge catching the faint light of the moon. She slashed through his legs first. He didn’t scream, because he couldn’t. The only sound that reached Nolan’s ears was the sickening wet crunch of bone as his knees collapsed beneath the blade.
Before he could fall to the ground, Nolan was already behind him. In one smooth, practiced motion, she swung the sword upward, cutting clean through the muscles of his back, severing his spine.
She dropped him, lifeless, to the cobblestones.
Another magician, a woman with flowing green hair and glowing blue eyes, began chanting furiously, casting a barrier of fire. Flames leapt up, licking at the air in a wall of scorching heat.
Nolan’s lips curled into a dark smile.
Swoosh!
She sprinted toward the fire. The moment she was close enough, she dropped into a roll, her sword spinning in her hand as she used the elemental wind to launch herself through the barrier. The fire curled around her, but she was a blur—too fast for it to touch her. She emerged from the flames with a flurry of violent strikes, cutting through her opponent’s robes and slicing through her defences.
The woman gasped as she tried to form another spell, but Nolan was already on her. The short sword jabbed into her chest with a sickening twist, puncturing her lungs. The woman’s hands shook as she grasped at Nolan’s arm, but there was nothing left in her.
One by one the others also fell to Nolan's sword.
Wiping the blood off her sword, her gaze now fixed on the last remaining magician. A tall man, perhaps in his thirties, with a jagged scar running down his face. His eyes were wide, staring at the carnage around him. He reached for his weapon—a long, black dagger with runes etched along the blade. But his hands trembled.
Nolan’s eyes locked with his. "You want to try?" she asked, her voice cold but soft.
The man swallowed hard, but didn’t answer.
He lunged forward.
Nolan didn’t move.
At the last moment, she sidestepped, using the wind to propel herself further out of his reach. With a single strike, her sword pierced his side, then twisted upwards through his ribcage. Blood poured down his torso, but he didn’t scream. He was too weak.
Her sword retracted, and Nolan shoved him aside with a cruel, almost bored look on her face.
Bang!
He slumped to the ground, twitching as his life bled out.
Nolan's face was partially stained with their blood, but her heart was beating steadily in her chest. The fight had been easy. Too easy.
Selia, who had been watching the fight from behind was utterly shocked. The sight of Nolan slicing and dicing through her opponents' flesh was eerie without a doubt, but it was also strangely beautiful.
Her red dress danced in the air with each movement, fluttering in the moonlight as crimson red droplets of her opponents' blood rained down, she was truly a dangerous beauty, her eyes were calm and cold. Almost as if this was just another day at work for her.
Like a master painter with a blade instead of a brush, blood instead of paint, she paints death in strokes so precise, even the gods hold their breath. She was no longer the same as before, but "The Executioner" still lived within her.
Smoke still lingered in the air, thin wisps rising from the scorched earth where flame spells had clashed against wind. The moon hung high above Lunareth’s sleeping rooftops, casting a cold silver light over the alley where the bodies of 20 magicians now lay broken and dismembered.
Nolan stood at the centre of the carnage, her red dress soaked at the hem, sticky with blood. The street was silent again. But this time, it was because nothing alive remained.
Selia stepped into the scene from behind, her violet eyes cold and unreadable.
"You're quite ruthless," she said quietly, her voice almost lost in the breeze.
Nolan didn’t look at her. She turned her blade and drove it into the chest of a man who was still gurgling faintly. "They came to take me. I gave them what they deserved."
Selia looked around, studying the remains. Limbs severed. Faces frozen in terror. One body had been pinned to a wall with shards of broken stone forced into his ribcage. Another had been crushed beneath a wind-forged pressure wave, his insides burst from the force.
"You’re ten years old," Selia said softly, as if reminding herself.
"I’m older than that," Nolan replied flatly, pulling her blade free. "Age means nothing to a corpse."
Selia gave her a long, unreadable look. "Your technique… It was surgical."
Nolan finally turned to face her. Her face was stained with flecks of blood.
"They weren’t sword masters," Nolan said. "They were magicians. All of them relied on their magic. Without it, they’re just meat with fancy robes." She sheathed her short sword and added, "I’ll butcher every last one of them if they come again."
Selia raised a brow. "And if they don’t come in small groups next time? What if 40, or 80 come? Or worse, what if they send someone stronger?"
Nolan stepped over a body and began walking. "Then I’ll stop holding back." She said.
Selia followed, falling in step beside her. "Your swordsmanship is quite powerful."
Nolan didn’t respond. She didn't need to. She had noticed long ago that her swordsmanship was abnormally powerful, even for an Elemental swords master. She had only used the strength of a level 3 Adept sword master during the fight, barely utilizing her aura and yet 20 magicians between the 3rd and 2nd circles had fallen so easily to her.
As they entered their carriage, Selia paused as she frowned.
"Change of plans," she said as Nolan looked over from her seat. "Seems like you're much more important than we thought."
Nolan was confused, "Are there more of them? I can't sense anyone nearby."
"There's only one person coming, and she's a troublesome one. I can handle her but once she finds out their men have been wiped out, she might stall us until their reinforcements come." Selia said as she fell into deep thought.
"Is she that powerful?" Nolan wondered.
"Not really, it's just that those red eyes are troublesome to deal with, I'm sorry but it looks I'll have to take you to the temple after all. She'll be here soon, so we don't have much time." Selia began casting a spell after saying this, a magic circle appeared beneath the carriage.
'Red eyes...' Nolan thought to herself.
A few moments later, the carriage disappeared on the spot.
Not far away, the cloaked, red-eyed woman rushed forward. Heading towards the silent street as she felt something was wrong.