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The train sliced through the metallic plains beneath a leaden sky.
The interior lights flickered from time to time, reflecting Niyx's face in the window.
Her pink eyes watched her own reflection twist with every turn — a tired, tense image, trying hard to look calm.
She couldn't relax.
Since she had left, something in her chest kept pulsing — a silent irritation, an echo of the fight she still hadn't had.
'Because it's the fastest way to win.'
Victor's voice repeated in her mind like an irritating buzz.
She clicked her tongue, annoyed.
"What nonsense." she muttered, low, but sharp enough to cut through the air.
Niyx tilted her chin, staring at the stream of lights from the city fading in the distance.
Every time she recalled his gaze — calm, unreadable, fearless — the discomfort inside her grew stronger.
He was predictable, and yet utterly unpredictable.
And that made her sick.
'I want to fight…' This time, the thought came faintly, almost like a sigh.
That's what made her feel alive.
And he… simply refused that.
So she needed something to force him to change.
Something impossible to ignore.
The train shook slightly, and distant noises began to blend with the sound of the wheels.
A pop — then another.
Muffled gunfire.
Niyx didn't move.
She closed her eyes, took a slow breath.
But the sounds multiplied; screams burst from the next car.
The sliding door slammed open, and armed men flooded the corridor.
The lights went out for a second.
When they came back, the first bullet had already pierced her forehead.
The impact snapped her head back — and then came more.
Chest. Stomach. Legs. Arms.
In seconds, her body was riddled with holes, the seat soaked in blood, the air thick with smoke and iron.
She fell to her side, eyes open and unfocused.
The entire train descended into chaos.
"Move in!" one of the men shouted.
They wore black suits, carrying long rifles reinforced with mana crystals.
They moved quickly, methodically.
Another appeared from the front car.
"The train's ours,"he confirmed, wiping sweat from his forehead.
They were about to enter a tunnel.
"Excellent. Prepare the ransom message—"
But before he could finish, he noticed a shadow beside him.
A tall figure, drenched in blood — light-blue hair cascading over her shoulders, pink eyes glowing under the flickering light.
The sound of the train was swallowed by the tunnel, and darkness consumed everything.
Gunfire flashed — brief, like lightning inside a storm.
Two seconds passed. Then silence.
When the train emerged from the tunnel, no one answered the radio.
Not a single sound.
Five minutes later, upon reaching the next station, the doors opened.
The few surviving passengers bolted out screaming.
Station guards rushed in immediately.
The smell of blood and hot iron stopped them before they could even see.
And when they did — none could speak.
Bodies. Pieces.
Heads stacked in perfect columns, separated from the bodies with surgical precision.
Some faces still held expressions of terror, as if they'd died mid-scream.
Chunks of flesh impaled on metal supports, ribs hanging from seats, eyes scattered like shards of glass.
Each car followed a different pattern — a unique signature, a grotesque art form.
Eight cars, eight ways to die.
All of it, in two seconds.
"My… God…"whispered one of the guards.
"What kind of monster…"another choked, unable to finish.
And then, amid the terrified crowd, Niyx stepped out of the train.
Hair flawless. Clothes clean.
Not a single scratch.
Her gaze empty, cold, expressionless.
She walked past guards and passengers unnoticed, as if no one could truly see her.
The sound of panic echoed in the distance, but to her, everything felt muffled — distant.
On the platform, Erebos waited, hands in his pockets, tapping his foot impatiently.
"What the hell happened?" he asked, frowning.
Niyx walked past him, unhurried, without looking his way.
"Hijacking." she replied flatly.
He raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, great. And no one saw you?"
"No. Took care of them when we entered the tunnel."
Erebos let out a short, mocking laugh.
"You're thinking. That's rare."
"What a compliment." Niyx shot back dryly. "I'm thinking more than I want to."
He turned his head, intrigued.
"Hmm… you sound irritated. Thinking about who?"
"That metamorph."she crossed her arms. "He's annoying. Too human. He even reminds me of you."
Erebos chuckled softly, clearly amused.
"Wow, that's the worst insult I've ever gotten. I hope you get so mad you drop dead tomorrow."
"Shut up. Your racism's getting boring already."
He raised his hands in fake protest.
"You're more racist than me."
"No. We're equally racist. I hate your kind as much as you hate mine."
"Well, something in common then. So? What are you gonna do?"
Niyx stared into nothing.
"He'll see. I've got a great plan."
"As long as it doesn't mess with our operation, do whatever you want." Erebos shrugged. "The boss wants a meeting, that's why I came to get you."
She sighed and started walking, distracted.
"Don't wanna go. I'm feeling homey today."
"What?" — he frowned.
"Hmm…" she murmured, tilting her head to look at him.
Erebos groaned.
"Speak properly, dammit!"
This time, Niyx let out a brief laugh.
"Relax, I'm coming."
Erebos followed, shaking his head.
"You're a disgrace, you know that?"
"I know." she replied, and for the first time that night, she seemed a little lighter.
Even in moments like this, Erebos's eyes were lifeless. Niyx never really understood him — which, in her own way, was why she got along with him.
The two walked together, blending into the crowd still recovering from the chaos.
Behind them, the train remained still and silent.
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The next day, the massacre was reported on every network.
The government denied involvement, and the guilds stayed silent.
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