Sera stood amidst the chaos of the clearing, her chest rising and falling rapidly as the adrenaline coursed through her veins. The bloodied arm of the mercenary leader lay discarded at her feet, but despite the gruesome wound she had inflicted, the leader still hadn't fallen. His movements were slower, yes—more labored—but he was still standing. The black faceplate gleamed ominously in the flickering light of Sera's flames, completely intact.
What does it take to end this?! Sera thought, frustration gnawing at her. Every blow she landed, every sequence she cast, seemed to chip away at his body, but that mask—that damned mask—remained untouched.
Her breaths came in sharp gasps as she tried to steady herself. She was running low on magicules, her sequences draining her faster than she'd anticipated, and her stamina was waning after the relentless fight. She had used her skills, her thermodynamic sequences, everything she could think of—and still, the leader remained a threat.
"Alright," she muttered to herself, wiping sweat and blood from her brow. "One last push."
Her mind raced through the sequences she had left. Without a Specialization Unit (SU), she couldn't continue conjuring spells at the same rate without burning out completely. She had to make this final attack count.
But first, she needed an opening.
The leader lunged at her again, his movements sluggish but still deadly. Sera dodged, her body twisting to avoid his strikes, but she could feel the fatigue creeping in. Every dodge felt heavier than the last, every step slower. She couldn't keep this up for much longer.
Suddenly, a flash of light caught her attention—Ava, still standing at the edge of the clearing, tinkering with yet another device.
"Hey!" Ava shouted, her voice strained but determined. "I've got this! Just… hold him off for a bit longer!"
Sera groaned inwardly. This girl really doesn't know when to quit. But she had no time to deal with Ava. The leader was closing in on her again, his good arm swinging in a heavy arc.
Sera ducked low, narrowly avoiding the blow, and surged forward. She needed to get in close—there was no more room for finesse or complex sequences. This fight needed to end now. With a swift movement, she drove Ling into the leader's side once more, feeling the familiar resistance of flesh and armor.
This time, however, she didn't stop there.
Gritting her teeth, Sera planted her feet and used the momentum to push even harder, forcing the blade deeper. Her muscles screamed in protest, but she ignored the pain. With a brutal yank, she twisted the blade upward, tearing through muscle and bone. The leader stumbled, his body jerking in response to the savage attack.
This was her chance.
Sera abandoned her knife momentarily, her hands latching onto the mask. The face plate was her target now. She couldn't beat it with magic, couldn't break it with brute force—but if she could remove it, everything would change.
With a fierce growl, Sera wrapped her fingers around the edges of the mask and pulled. The leader, even in his wounded state, struggled violently, but Sera was relentless. Her hands burned from the heat of the fight, her grip slipping on the blood-slick surface, but she didn't let go.
I'll tear this thing off if it's the last thing I do.
She heaved with all her strength, feeling the tendons and muscles straining beneath her skin. The leader let out a guttural sound, somewhere between a growl and a scream, as the mask began to come loose. Blood oozed from the edges where it had fused with his skin, but Sera didn't care. She could feel it—just a little more force and the mask would rip free.
With one final, brutal pull, the mask came off.
The leader's body convulsed as the mask detached, and Sera stumbled back, holding the bloodied faceplate in her hands. The leader collapsed to the ground, his face a twisted mess of flesh and bone, utterly destroyed by the violent removal of the mask.
For a moment, there was silence—just the sound of Sera's ragged breathing as she stared down at the mask. Blood dripped from its surface, pooling on the ground at her feet.
It's over.
The leader's body lay still, unmoving, his chest no longer rising and falling. The fight had been brutal, grueling, but it was done. Sera tossed the mask aside, her body trembling from the strain of the battle. Her legs felt like they could give out at any moment, but she forced herself to remain standing.
And then, just as she was about to collapse, her system chimed.
[Assignment Complete: 14,600 XP earned.]
The notification flickered before her eyes, but it was the next line that caught her attention:
[Companion: Possible.1 Equipment Earned: Hydra CM-12.]
Sera's eyes widened. The system had claimed the Hydra CM-12 as hers. The mask—the same mask that had nearly killed her—was now listed as her reward.
She bent down, picking up the mask once again, her fingers trembling as she held it. The blood had dried on its surface, but now, as she gazed at it, she could see it for what it truly was: a piece of high-tech, military-grade equipment, designed for combat on a level far beyond what she was used to.
The system chimed again, offering more details:
[Hydra CM-12 Faceplate: A faceplate designed for high-level combatants. Equipped with infrared vision, magical resistance capabilities, and enhanced physical durability. A 180 degree vision enhancement. Immune to conventional magic and resistant to thermal and physical attacks. Adaptable to the user's combat style.]
Sera's eyes widened slightly as the system assigned the faceplate a name: Hydra CM-12. The name fit. It was no ordinary piece of gear; this was military-grade, resistant to both physical and magical attacks. Sera realized just how powerful a tool she now held in her hands.
So, this is my reward.
She ran her fingers over the mask's surface, feeling the smooth, cold metal beneath her fingertips. The system's notification faded, leaving her alone with her thoughts.
The battle was over, but Sera's mind was still racing. Her body ached, and her mana reserves were nearly depleted. But she didn't care. She had won, and now she had the mask. It would give her an edge in the future—a tactical advantage that no ordinary enemy could overcome.
The sound of footsteps approaching pulled her from her thoughts. She turned to see Zyra stepping into the clearing, her expression unreadable as she took in the scene. The flames still flickered around them, casting eerie shadows over the blood-soaked ground.
Zyra's eyes locked onto Sera, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.
"You've changed," Zyra finally said, her voice soft but heavy with meaning.
Sera didn't respond right away. She knew what Zyra meant. The girl she had once been—full of fire and life—was gone. In her place was someone colder, more calculating. Someone willing to tear the face off a man without a second thought.
"Maybe," Sera replied, her tone flat. She turned the Hydra CM-12 over in her hands again, her gaze distant. "But it was necessary."
Zyra's expression tightened, but she didn't argue. Instead, she stepped closer, her eyes scanning the leader's lifeless body on the ground. She could see the torn flesh, the mangled remains of the man who had once worn the mask. It was a gruesome sight, but one she had seen before.
"You didn't hesitate," Zyra muttered, more to herself than to Sera.
Sera's eyes flicked toward Zyra, but there was no trace of regret in her gaze. "Hesitation gets you killed," she said simply, her voice devoid of emotion. "If I hadn't acted, he would've torn me apart."
Zyra let out a soft sigh, her shoulders slumping slightly as she processed the scene before her. She knew Sera was right. This was the world they lived in—one where survival meant doing whatever it took, no matter how brutal. But that didn't make it any easier to accept.