Sigh... here we go again. Sera's breath escaped her lips in a whisper, the weight of the situation settling in like a familiar coat. It was the same old song and dance—yet another fight, yet another battlefield where blood would be spilled. As her eyes closed for just a moment, she let herself feel the exhaustion she'd kept buried. And when they opened again, Zyra immediately noticed the change. Those eyes that had sparked with fiery life just moments ago were now dull, tired, like the gaze of someone who had seen too much. And in truth, Sera had.
Sera's vision flickered as her system popped up with its cold, emotionless prompt:
[Emergency Assignment: Safeguard the convoy of engineer overrun by Mercenaries'- 14,600 Xp/Companion?/1 equipment ]
Sera's lips twisted into a wry smile. Huh, maybe it'll be worth the trouble after all. She rolled her shoulders, pulling a knife from her plate carrier with an almost casual motion. The knife, a deep matte red from hilt to tip, gleamed menacingly in the dim forest light. This wasn't just any weapon. She had named it Ling after the very colleague she'd had to kill. It was a brutal reminder of that fight—one where Ling had tried to betray her, only to meet his end by the very weapon Sera now held. Ling's blade was crafted from a unique composite of metals, structurally reinforced and air-reduced, designed for silent, swift attacks.
As she held the knife, Sera's mind drifted for a second, her internal monologue cutting through the tension. Well, dear viewer, you might as well get to know me. Her thoughts took on a slightly sarcastic edge. My name is Seraphina Valen—though, just call me Sera. She let the name roll through her mind with practiced ease. What should you know about me? Let's see… I studied thermodynamics. Why? Because of a movie. Yeah, I know, dumb reason, but it worked out because of my affinity for flame magic. Surviving alone after mom and dad died taught me more than just magic though.
Her train of thought was interrupted by the unmistakable tickle of an oncoming sneeze. She scrunched her face, suppressing it with a quick intake of breath, shaking her head slightly as she refocused on the task at hand. Was I… talking to someone? Her mind briefly wandered before snapping back to the present.
Enough chatter. Her hands lit up as she activated Burning Threads. Mana surged through her, and with a soft, almost inaudible hum, the air around her hands shimmered with heat. Thin, almost invisible strands of magic, wrapped in both blight and flame, wove themselves around the handle of Ling.
The threads glowed faintly in the evening light. It took 75 magicules to activate, and another 15 per second to maintain it. She breathed deeply, centering herself, before hurling the blade with practiced ease. The enchanted threads hummed as they guided the knife, propelling it forward with lethal accuracy toward the mercenary leader.
3… 2… 1…
But before Ling could land its deadly mark, the leader dropped to the ground in a fluid motion, almost as if he had seen her coming. A glint caught Sera's eye—a faceplate. Dark and ominous, the man wore a full tactical mask covering his features completely. Its blackened surface gleamed with an unnatural sheen.
What the… He can see me?!
Her heart raced. In the split second that Ling missed, the blade sailed past, embedding itself into a nearby tree. Flames licked the bark, catching fire almost immediately. The firelight danced in Sera's eyes as her irritation rose.
This was supposed to be easy!
She bolted forward without hesitation, her fingers twitching as she pulled on the magical threads still connected to the knife. Ling responded, its enchanted form shooting back toward her like a boomerang. The knife whizzed through the air, its speed blurring its red form into a streak.
"Dammit..." Sera muttered under her breath, frustration evident in her voice.
Her small outburst had drawn the attention of everyone in the clearing. The remaining mercenaries turned their heads toward her, their movements stiffening as they recognized the growing danger. Even Zyra, who had been dispatching the other enemies, paused for a moment to glance at her.
The leader straightened up, his masked face tilting slightly in Sera's direction. The black faceplate he wore was unlike anything she had ever seen. There were no visible scratches, no signs of wear despite the brutal fight. It was pristine, functional, and far too advanced for the likes of a simple mercenary group.
Sera's gut twisted. She already knew this wasn't going to be a simple fight. As Ling returned to her hand, she felt the weight of the battle ahead settling in. This leader, whoever he was, wasn't some low-level thug. His movements were deliberate, and the tech on his face gave him an edge she wasn't prepared for.
Just my luck, she thought, irritation turning to focused intent. She readied herself, adjusting her grip on Ling as the leader advanced toward her. His faceplate shimmered in the firelight, almost mocking her.
Sera didn't wait for an opening. She charged forward, her body low to the ground as she aimed for his midsection. The leader moved to intercept, raising an arm to block, but Sera was faster. Ling sliced through the air in a wide arc, aimed at the faceplate.
For a split second, she thought she had him. But when Ling made contact, there was a burst of sparks, the blade grinding against the surface of the faceplate with a screeching metallic sound. Sera's eyes widened as her momentum carried her past the leader, her body twisting mid-motion to regain balance.
No damage.
She landed lightly on her feet, her gaze locking onto the faceplate. The black surface was unmarred, untouched. The leader remained unfazed, the mask still gleaming in the fading light.
What the hell is that thing made of?! Sera's heart pounded as she readjusted her grip on Ling. For the first time in the fight, doubt crept into her mind.
The leader didn't waste any time. He lunged forward, a heavy strike aimed at Sera's side. She barely had time to react, dodging to the left and feeling the wind from his blow graze her shoulder. Her breath came in short, quick bursts as she reassessed her strategy. This wasn't just any faceplate—it was something far more dangerous, and she wasn't sure how to break through it.
Sparks flew once again as Ling and the faceplate clashed, the sound of metal grinding against reinforced material filling the clearing.
And that's when it hit her—she couldn't damage it. Not like this.