The sunset was bleeding into a bruised, ominous purple, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up. The Bronze Coin Guild. They weren't just passing through, they were setting the stage for a massacre.
I turned to my unit, my face pale.
"Everything I told you, about the sickness, the Bureau, the danger, it's all coming to a head. There's a threat here, right now, moving toward the East. You have to stay here, under the healers' protection. Do not leave this room."
Before they could protest, I was out the door. The streets were already becoming a chaotic sprawl of panicked civilians. As I sprinted toward the thoroughfare, I saw a batch of royal knights thundering toward the Eastern District, their armor clattering with grim purpose.
I intercepted one, grabbing his reins with a strength that made him flinch.
"What's happening?" I demanded.
"Terrorist attack! The Bronze Coin! They've hit the Flower Manor and every estate in the Eastern District. It's a total siege!" the knight shouted over the din of hooves
My heart hammered, the Flower Manor. I didn't wait for more. I took off, not through the streets, but over them. I scaled a brick wall with raw, adrenaline-fueled power, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, the wind whipping through my hair. The Eastern District was a blur of smoke and distant screams.
When I reached the main gate, the scene was carnage. Carlos, the gatekeeper, was on his knees, his uniform soaked in blood, surrounded by three masked bandits wielding jagged machetes.
As soon enough, I chanted the word silently.
"Blood Bow."
I reached for my back, fingers curling around the grip of my Blood Bow. I needed that burst of speed, that lethal accuracy.
But as I readied the draw, my left hand, the one mangled during the goblin king's final stand, stuttered. The limb was weak, stiffened by old scar tissue, and the bowstring groaned under the pressure of my inability to pull it true.
"I can't hesitate. Not now."
"Roxy, use your shapeshifting ability."
"Good idea, Plasma. Shapeshift me into Miera, now!"
"Gotcha! Shapeshifting into a worthless maid incoming."
[Analyzing genetic data... 100% match found in blood reservoir. Commencing Morphological Shift.]
I closed my eyes, focusing on the core of my being, the shifting essence of my nature. My bones ground together and reformed, the ache of the transformation eclipsed by the rush of returning power. In a blink, the weary, wounded Roxy vanished.
[Visual confirmation: 100% accuracy. Heart rate, scent, and vocal cords successfully calibrated. Successfully shapeshifted to Miera Amber]
In her place stood Miera, whole, agile, and terrifyingly precise.
My arm, my perfect, restored arm, snapped back with the bowstring.
Twang.
The first arrow caught the bandit nearest to Carlos in the throat before he could even turn.
Twang. Twang.
Two more shots, two more lifeless bodies hitting the cobblestones. I didn't stop to breathe. I landed on the pavement, the bow dissolving into a mist of blood-mana, and turned my gaze toward the burning horizon where the Manor stood. The hunt had begun, and I was done playing the role of the victim.
I landed on the cobblestones with the fluid grace of a predator, the mana from my transformation still humming beneath my skin, knitting my muscles into perfect, lethal alignment.
Carlos, the veteran gatekeeper, was slumped against the charred remains of the manor's outer barrier, clutching a jagged laceration on his side. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of me… the familiar commoner dress and a familiar face of the Flower Manor staff, yet worn with an air of cold, battlefield authority.
"Miera? You're… the maid? How did you…?" he gasped, his voice rattling in his chest.
I didn't have the luxury of masquerade any longer. The smoke choking the air was thick with the scent of burning cedar and copper, the smell of a life I had fought to protect being methodically dismantled. I stepped into his field of vision, letting the illusion of the soft-spoken servant dissolve into the hard-eyed stare of an adventurer who had stared down the Goblin King.
"Forget the name, Carlos, It's me. It's Roxy. And the facade is dead."
His jaw dropped, but there was no time for his confusion. I knelt, my hands moving with the practiced efficiency of a field medic, applying pressure to his wound until he groaned.
"Listen to me, you have the authority here. Evacuate every civilian left in the estate. Don't worry about the valuables; worry about the heartbeat. Inform the incoming knights that this isn't just a raid, it's an organized purge. Spread them out, protect the neighboring manors, and get these people to the hospital in the Central Plaza."
Carlos, galvanized by the sheer, terrifying command in my voice, nodded vigorously. He whistled for the scattered royal guards, barking orders that sent them sprinting toward the smoke-filled horizon of the Eastern District.
As they cleared the gate, a stampede of silk and panic surged toward me. A group of wealthy noblemen, their faces pale and streaked with soot, clutched their ruined finery. They saw the uniform, the familiar silhouette of the Flower Manor staff, and their desperation turned to entitlement.
"You there! Maid of the Flower Manor! Help us! We have coins, jewels, get us out of this hellhole, you wretched creature!"
I shoved them past me toward the safety of the main road, my patience fraying like a worn rope.
"Run, you fools! Keep moving until you see the hospital's crest!"
I turned back to the inferno, but the path was blocked. From the shadows of a collapsed garden trellis, a monstrous shape emerged.
"Sweet mother of gods. Who the fuck is that?"
It was a man, though calling him human was a stretch; he was a mountain of flaccid, scarred flesh, his belly hanging low and distended. What made my stomach turn was the umbilical cord, thick and purple, trailing from his navel and ending in a wicked, iron-spiked bludgeon that dragged heavily behind him, carving grooves into the stone.
"Roxy, you've seen the look on your face."
"Come on Plasma, you telling me that is normal. Look at his umbilical cord, he uses it as a weapon."
While our conversation with Plasma ended, The man wheezed, a sound like a wet bellows, and leveled a porcine glare at me.
"Hey, young lady, my name's Fatso. You're standin' there lookin' real pretty, starin' at me like you wanna fight. You got some spirit, I'll give ya that. But most folk just try to run."
Fatso gargled, his voice a wet, gravelly mess it looks like a wet sludge from his tummy more than a weapon, I used inspect on Fatso.
Fatso
Skills: Defense Reduction
Vitality: 1000
Strength: 640
Defense: 570
Agility: 200
Mana: 500
Fatso was no other than stone-ranked, despite it's clunky build, it's vitality stats were larger than any other stats he posses. Not only that, he possess defense reduction, the same skill that can shatter both armors and weapon's durability.
Not only that, the spiked cord acts as his weapon, I can tell that he has a spare weapon from his back. But the umbilical cord was more of a threat, it's longer range makes it more than a threat.
So I used my blood bow to move at a father distance.
"I shouldn't kill you now lady, I will fuck you into pieces before finishing off."
He swung the spiked end of his umbilical cord, he imued it with defense reduction, the metal whistling through the air with enough force to shatter stone. The impact sent a spray of gravel and sparks flying inches from my feet.
"You're just another piece of the commoner ya maid, but I think you're gonna be the one that gives me the best fight before I break you."
," It was a man, though calling him human was a stretch; he was a mountain of flaccid, scarred flesh, his belly hanging low and distended. What made my stomach turn was the umbilical cord, thick and purple, trailing from his navel and ending in a wicked, iron-spiked bludgeon that dragged heavily behind him, carving grooves into the stone.
Fatso laughed, the sound bubbling up from his chest.
I felt the Blood Bow manifest in my grip, the mana weaving together, but this time I didn't hold back. I stepped forward, the ground cracking beneath my boots.
"You picked the wrong house to burn, Fatso."
The air grew heavy with the metallic tang of ozone and gore. Fatso lunged, his massive frame belying his bulk, and swung that nightmarish, spiked umbilical appendage in a wide, whistling arc meant to crush my skull.
I didn't retreat. I dropped into a slide, the stone grinding against my knees, and pulled the bowstring of my Blood Bow to its absolute limit. In the heartbeat between his swing and my impact, I didn't aim for his chest, I aimed for the point of origin.
Twang.
The crimson arrow, hummed with volatile energy, struck the thick, pulsing vein where the cord met his abdomen.
"Bullseye, Roxy." Plasma muttered
The impact was sickening, a wet, tearing sound like canvas being ripped by a blade. The energy surge severed the connection instantly. The umbilical cord, robbed of its tether to the main nervous system, spasmed and fell limp, dragging behind him like a butchered intestine.
Fatso let out a roar that turned into a gargled shriek of pure agony. His body convulsed as the back-pressure of his own life force, redirected by my mana, began to rupture him from within. Veins across his neck and forehead bulged, turning black as he hemorrhaged internally.
"You bitch! My cord... you will pay for this with your soul!"
Fatso wheezed, blood spraying from his lips to mingle with the dust.
Blind with rage and dying on his feet, he yanked a rusted, heavy machete from his belt and charged. He didn't care about the pain anymore; he just wanted to bury that blade in my chest.
At this range, the bow was more than a projectile weapon, it was a point-blank executioner. As he reached the apex of his charge, I didn't bother to leap back. I simply pivoted, planting my feet firmly. I drew the string back past my ear, the blood-mana forming into sharp, jagged needles of light right at the point of his forehead.
Twang. Twang. Twang.
Three arrows blossomed against his skull, piercing deep into the brain. The momentum of his charge carried him forward for one last, shuddering step before he hit the ground like a collapsed wall. The silence that followed was absolute, save for the distant crackle of the manor's fires.
I didn't pause to check for a pulse. I didn't care about the loot or the secrets he might have been carrying. I didn't drank his blood and copied his DNA completely. I needed to get to the manor.
The Eastern District was turning into a slaughterhouse, and every second I spent here was a second stolen from the people I had sworn to protect.
I leaped over his cooling corpse and vaulted the gate's debris, my boots hitting the pavement with a rhythmic, lethal intent. The manor loomed ahead, shrouded in smoke and the silhouettes of more Bronze Coin intruders.
"I'm coming. And God help anyone standing in my way."