"Get her. I want her dead."
The branch president's voice cut through the tense air, low but firm, the weight of authority pressing on the twenty-five awakened under his command.
Isobel's smile widened at the command, her crimson eyes glinting faintly under the dim light. "Good. I would've felt bad if you backed away," she said lightly, the words carrying the casual cheer of a child who'd just been promised candy. She stood there without flinching, hands loose at her sides, almost inviting them to make the first move.
The group—a mix of B-rank and A-rank awakened—didn't hesitate. They weren't arrogant enough to attack one by one like the fools in fairy tales. Instead, they surged forward together, a coordinated storm of killing intent.
They didn't know exactly what they were dealing with, but they knew enough to be cautious. The only way to deny an unknown opponent the advantage of surprise was to smother them with overwhelming force from the start.
It didn't work.
