Gwen stood firm at the entrance of the mansion, blocking Ravlen's path. Her stance said it all — no one was getting past her to Alex. Around her, Ravlen and his men tightened their circle.
"At the moment, I'm really on the clock, and I don't have time for games," Gwen said flatly, her tone sharp as steel.
Her whip flicked out — snap! — latching onto one of the helicopters parked nearby. She yanked it with brute strength, metal groaning as the aircraft tore free from its spot. With a powerful swing, she hurled it straight toward Ravlen.
He saw it coming.
In a blur, Ravlen shot upward, floating out of the way. The helicopter missed him — but not the others.
The crash came a second later. The machine smashed into several soldiers who had tried to halt it midair. Too late.
The impact erupted in a chain of explosions, fire licking across the helipads as bodies and debris tumbled off the cliffside.
Ravlen's eyes burned red as he darted in, cutting through the smoke. His fist drove forward, the air whistling from the speed.
Gwen caught it. Just like that. Her fingers locked around his knuckles, stopping the blow cold.
"I said I don't have time to play your games," she hissed, her other hand flashing. She slammed a punch straight into his chest, the force launching him backward.
Ravlen flew across the ground, dirt and stone tearing up under him as his body carved trenches toward the cliff's edge. He managed to stop himself just in time — hovering, suspended in the air by invisible force.
Telekinesis.
Ravlen floated upright again, his coat flicking in the wind, eyes narrowed.
Ravlen staggered to his feet, blood dripping from his mouth. He spat red onto the ground, glaring at Gwen with wild fury.
Gwen glanced down at her own hands, momentarily dazed. Her fingers trembled—not from fear, but from the raw surge running through her veins.
'I almost forgot how powerful it feels when the Bloodline activates… Even after it fades, the strength still stays inside us for a while,' she thought, clenching her fist.
Her brief reflection was shattered by the sound of twisting metal. A sharp creeeak sliced through the air.
Her gaze snapped toward the noise—helicopter blades, trembling, vibrating violently as if caught by unseen hands.
Then they ripped free.
The massive blades tore from their mounts and shot toward her like a storm of steel. Gwen moved instantly—side step, pivot, drop—each motion clean and fast.
The blades stabbed into the ground behind her one after another, slamming hard enough to send dust and debris flying.
Ravlen gritted his teeth, his face pale but burning with rage. With a visible strain, he lifted one of the wrecked helicopters off the ground using his telekinesis. The machine groaned and twisted as it rose.
With a shout, he hurled it straight at her.
Gwen didn't flinch. Her whip lashed out, snagging another helicopter nearby. She swung it like a weapon, meeting his attack head-on.
BOOM!
The two metal giants collided midair, bursting in a rolling wave of fire and smoke.
Through the explosion, Ravlen burst forward, eyes blazing, his fist cocked back. He broke through the fire like a demon out of the flame, swinging with all the momentum he could gather.
Gwen met him without hesitation. She clenched her fist and drove it forward.
Their blows collided with a thunderous crack—air rippled, dust exploded outward, and the cliff trembled beneath them.
Ravlen was thrown backward, his body smashing through the air like a ragdoll.
Gwen was gone from sight.
Then—whoosh!—she dropped from the sky, a blur of motion. She landed right on top of Ravlen, fists already flying.
Punch after punch rained down, each one heavier than the last, shaking the ground beneath them. The final blow sent him flying off the cliff's edge.
He didn't even scream. The man was already unconscious before he began his free fall. His body plummeted and hit the ground below with a sickening crunch, splattering blood and bone.
Right in front of Merrick and Tamsin.
The two had just reached the central courtyard of the base when the sound hit them—then the sight. They froze, staring up at the cliff where Gwen stood, the wind whipping through her hair.
A deep rumble rolled across the sky. Thunder cracked as dark clouds coiled tighter above them, pulsing with light.
Gwen looked up, her eyes narrowing.
'Alex… time's up. Get out of there,' she thought.
---
Meanwhile, inside the mansion—
Alex moved fast, sprinting through the polished halls. The place was grand, draped with gold trim and thick carpets, but none of that mattered to him now. It wasn't as rich or elegant as the Wyndham estate anyway, and he wasn't here for sightseeing.
He tore through each room, kicking open doors, checking corners. His heartbeat echoed in his ears.
'Come on, someone's gotta be here…' he thought.
He finally stumbled into a few people—servants, mostly. Young women, older men. None of them looked like soldiers. Their faces were pale, tired, hollow-eyed.
Alex froze. The realization hit him like a punch.
They weren't staff. They were captives—people forced to serve.
With their help, Alex learned about the underground basement—the place where all the captives were kept.
His jaw tightened. He didn't waste time. Together with the servants, most of them barely older than kids themselves, he started gathering everyone he could find.
When they reached the elevator, it creaked open like some old machine from a forgotten age. Alex motioned for them to get in.
"Stay close. No noise," he said.
The metal box descended with a deep hum.
The moment the doors slid open, a foul stench slapped him in the face. Sweat, blood, decay—it was the smell of human suffering baked into the walls. The basement was barely lit, a faint yellow bulb flickering at the far end.
But Alex didn't need the light. His enhanced sight cut through the shadows, revealing rows of cages and chains.
Dozens of people—teenagers, young women, even children. Some barely old enough to walk. They huddled together, eyes wide and empty.
'What kind of monster turns this into a business…' Alex thought, his fists clenching until his knuckles cracked.
He spotted a few older captives too, maybe in their twenties. None of them looked whole—just broken, tired, waiting for a miracle that never came.
That miracle had finally arrived.
Without wasting a breath, Alex tore through their chains, his movements sharp and precise. Every snap of metal echoed like a victory cry.
"Move! Follow the others!" he said, voice firm but steady.
He loaded as many as he could into the elevator and sent them up. Then again. And again. Five full trips before everyone had reached the surface.
When the last group made it out, Alex stayed behind. The air was quiet now, almost too quiet.
He turned back toward the dark hall.
'They're free. Now I just have to make sure no one follows.'
He took a deep breath, ready for whatever came.
As they moved through the hall, Alex suddenly stopped.
The others kept walking ahead.
'Did I just hear something?' he thought, tilting his head.
Then it came again — soft, faint, from somewhere deeper inside.
"Sir... aren't you coming with us?" one of the servants asked.
"You guys go on. My friends are waiting outside," Alex said, turning toward the sound.
He followed it through a few hallways. Each step made the noise sharper, stranger. By the time he reached a narrow corridor, he knew exactly what it was.
A door stood slightly ajar. Alex peered through the gap — and froze.
Inside, a dark-skinned man lay flat on his back against a grand, silk-draped bed. A light-skinned woman moved on top of him. Both naked, tangled in lust and sweat.
Alex's jaw tightened. He summoned his axe, gripping it hard.
Then he kicked the door wide open.
The couple screamed. Before they could move, Alex hurled the axe.
It cut through the air and buried itself in the woman's back — the blade edge bursting through her chest.
[You kill a Stage 5 Paragon Mage]
'At least you died Happy,' Alex thought.