Elsewhere, the battlefield burned under the clash of two deadly skill user.
Belle steadied her breath, her sniper rifle glowing faintly with the orange hue of her Heatshot skill. Each pull of the trigger left trails of steam in the air as the bullet ripped through the space Nia had just vacated. The assassin blinked—appearing and vanishing in stuttering flashes of violet light, like a ghost weaving through dimensions.
Nia's laughter echoed between the ruptured walls. "Still aiming for me, Belle? You really don't know when to stop."
Belle didn't answer. Her eyes tracked every shimmer, every flicker of Nia's energy trail. Her heartbeat was slow. Controlled. She waited—finger brushing the trigger—then fired again. The bullet missed by an inch as Nia blinked away, the projectile slicing through her afterimage.
