Revenge: A Path of Destruction
Chapter 68: Assassination

Chapter 68: Assassination

Night draped the elite quarter of Geb in a silky veil of luxury.

Tucked away from the estate, in one of the most exclusive retreats in the Earth Domain, the Third Princess, Lady Merit, decided to spend her evening basking in opulence as she usually does.

She wasn’t alone.

Three of her closest friends lounged with her in the private sky garden of a luxury tower designed for nobility. Mana-powered chandelier floated overhead, glowing like soft stars. Gold-threaded cushions, mana-rich wines adjusted to one’s preferred taste, and trays of rare delicacy filled the terrace. Music played gently from speakers, tuned to perfection.

They laughed. They drank. They lived like only royalty could.

Everything here screamed privilege. Even if a normal citizen sold everything they owned, they wouldn’t be able to afford a single bottle on the table.

This was Lady Merit’s favorite place to unwind—her escape from the posturing and politics of the Estate.

Eventually, as the hour grew late, it was time to return.

A sleek, obsidian-black vehicle glided down from the tower’s docking platform—the latest Sickle-series mana cruiser. It hummed silently, floating inches above the ground, its hull trimmed in glowing emerald glyphs. No tires. No exhaust. Just a smooth, arcane pulse that shimmered across its surface.

Merit stepped into the vehicle with her Shwt, Anippe, beside her. The rest of her guard detail—ten Master-ranked warriors—followed in escort cruisers, keeping a tight formation as they departed.

The drive was smooth.

Quiet.

The city lights blurred past like streaks of stardust. Their route was familiar—a scenic detour through the Crescent Canyon pass, reserved only for clan nobility.

That’s when the mana lights ahead flickered.

Then blacked out.

The cruiser’s ambient systems glitched for half a second. The vehicle stuttered mid-hover, its defensive runes flaring briefly before stabilizing.

"Something’s wrong," Anippe said sharply, already reaching for her weapon.

A beat later, shadows burst from the rocky cliffs on either side.

Six figures. All clad in dark armor woven with anti-detection runes.

They moved with ruthless precision—Master-ranked assassins, cutting through the air like blades of the void.

Explosives crackled across the hover lane—arcane traps triggered mid-ambush.

"An Ambush!" one of the Master guards shouted, leaping out of his cruiser to intercept.

But the assassins weren’t there for a fight.

They were there for a kill.

For Merit.

....

The night exploded into chaos.

Mana flared. Steel clashed. Screams tore through the once-serene canyon road.

The ambush hit like lightning. In the span of a breath, two of the Earth Clan’s Master-ranked guards were already down—throats slit, mana cores ruptured, their bodies hitting the mana-paved ground with heavy, final thuds.

Three others reeled back, blood spraying as curved daggers and suppression glyphs tore through their defenses. One fell to a knee, clutching his side where a black-bladed sickle had punctured his ribs and mana flow. The second had lost an arm, his dominant hand—the hand he used to cast. The third gasped for air, his lungs damaged by a cursed needle to the chest.

The attackers moved like ghosts—six Master-ranked assassins, cloaked in stealth-tech and dark earth-woven cloaks that drank in light. They darted across the cliffside and road like shadows pulled by a thread, striking with pinpoint precision.

Each of them was trained not to brawl—but to end lives in a single, elegant strike.

"DEFENSIVE FORMATION!" bellowed Captain Ra-Hem, the commander of the guard. His mana surged outward, erupting in a dome of bronze-tinged light that briefly pushed the assassins back and stabilized the line.

The remaining five uninjured Master guards quickly rallied, shields raised and mana burning on their gauntlets. One slammed the butt of his spear to the ground, triggering a mana shockwave that illuminated the battlefield for a split second, revealing the assassins’ positions.

Princess Merit’s mana cruiser hovered erratically, shields flaring as the embedded runes tried to maintain stability amid the clash. Inside, Anippe stood protectively in front of the princess, blade drawn, scanning the chaos.

"It seems like they’re after you, my lady," Anippe said coldly.

Outside, the battle had already shifted again.

Two assassins broke off, circling wide toward the cruiser.

One launched a spinning glaive, lined with silencing talismans, straight at the vehicle’s mana core—intending to shut it down and trap Merit inside.

"Not today," Ra-Hem growled.

He leaped, his body turning into a streak of mana-enhanced speed, intercepting the weapon mid-flight. The glaive slammed into his gauntlet with a sound like thunder, sending sparks and blood flying as it tore into his forearm—but he held.

"Protect the Princess!" he roared.

But the assassins were relentless.

Two more dropped from the cliff edge with unnatural silence, landing behind the formation. One immediately struck down a weakened guard with a whip blade that wrapped around his neck, pulling him into a brutal mana burst that disintegrated his head. The second swept toward the cruiser, fingers glowing as an artifact designed to shatter rune-created shield was activated.

All ten guards had been Master rank—but only five remained standing.

Blood spattered across the canyon road. The metallic scent of mana burns filled the air.

And the assassins attacked with even more ferocity.

....

Merit looked at the battle taking place outside with a calm face

One second ago, she was laughing.

Now blood spattered across the windows.

Her heart didn’t race—yet. Instead, her mind snapped into a chilling clarity.

An ambush. Someone wanted her dead, that was not a surprise as this was not the first time something like this happened but most had been sloppy assassinations with most of the Prince and Princesses experiencing it at least once, but she noticed something immediately after the ambush. These were not amateurs. One thing on her mind was, Who would dare?

Thutmose? He had the power. The cunning. But no reason—not yet.

Menkara?

A beat of doubt.

She’d always known he was a snake, but he needed her alive. For now. Besides, this wasn’t his style—too precise. Too... final.

Her eyes narrowed.

Lady Nandi.

The name chilled her more than the night air.

Of course, it was her.

The matriarch’s pride had been shattered. Her son’s death... no, his failure, had stripped her of influence. And Merit had been there—unbothered. Smiling. Unafraid.

Maybe that was the mistake.

Merit’s mind had processed all the information in seconds.

Then her attention snapped outward, catching the scent of scorched mana and blood as she stood from her seat, throwing off her velvet shawl.

Through the cracked glass, she saw it now.

Two of her guards were already dead, cut down like cattle. Three more were on the ground—alive, but barely. The rest had formed a desperate defense line, shielding the cruiser.

And the assassins... as she thought were not amateurs.

She could feel it in the way they moved.

Master rank. Every one of them.

"Anippe," she said, her voice sharp and low.

Her Shwt turned immediately, eyes gleaming with focused intent.

"We’re joining the battle."

Anippe didn’t question. She simply nodded and stepped aside, opening the side hatch of the cruiser with a single motion.

Cool canyon wind surged in. Screams and steel rang louder now.

Merit stepped out, her mana flaring around her in golden threads, interwoven with precise control. Her dress reformed into hardened weave armor the moment her feet touched the mana-slick pavement.

She didn’t wait.

A whip of solidified mana exploded from her palm, lashing toward one of the assassins who had just broken through the guard formation. He barely ducked under it—but it gave Ra-Hem the opening he needed to run him through from behind.

Anippe landed beside her, blade already drenched, weaving between assassins like smoke through shattered glass.

Another assassin rushed Merit—his blade a cursed fang designed to sap mana on contact.

She caught it mid-swing with her bare hand.

Mana crackled around her wrist as her fingers closed over the blade. Her grin was slow and dangerous.

"You’re going to need something sharper."

She ripped it out of his hands, flipped the weapon, and drove it into his thigh. As he screamed, she spun and kicked him hard into the canyon wall.

"Make damn sure none of them escape," she ordered.

"If this was Nandi," she muttered to herself, "I’ll return the favor with interest."

Then she turned to the next assassin.

And smiled.

....

The tide had turned.

With Merit and Anippe joining the fray, the assassins’ well-timed ambush began to unravel.

Their formation fractured as Merit’s precision strikes cut off their coordination. She was a storm—elegant and unrelenting. Every move was calculated, every thread of mana under her control. The golden filaments she wielded shimmered through the dark like radiant serpents, binding limbs, slicing tendons, and blinding vision.

Anippe fought with deadly grace, her dual crescent daggers moving in mirrored arcs. She wove between guards and enemies alike, dipping low under slashes, spinning into openings, her footwork flawless. Blood sprayed in crescents as her blades found flesh.

Despite their early advantage, the assassins were now fighting for survival.

One charged at Merit in desperation, mana flaring violently in a suicidal burst—his core overloading for one final blow.

Merit didn’t flinch.

"Child’s trick."

With a flick of her finger, the earth’s rosed, absorbing the explosion before it could detonate. She followed with a snap-kick to his sternum that crumpled his body in midair before he hit the ground.

Another assassin, limping and half-blinded, tried to vanish into the shadows—only for Anippe to appear beside him, her hand pressed against his temple.

"Goodnight."

A pulse of disruptive mana exploded from her palm, frying his nervous system in a flash.

The guards rallied. Roaring, they tore into the scattered remnants. One assassin was pinned to the ground, his arm nearly severed. Another staggered toward the edge of the cliff road, blood pouring from a deep gash along his ribs.

Now, only two remained.

Both were severely wounded, blood pooling beneath them as they tried to drag themselves away, still defiant despite their imminent death.

Ra-Hem, Merit’s chief guard, stepped forward. "Shall we eliminate one and take the other for questioning, Princess?"

Merit raised a hand casually. "Do it."

Four guards moved in, their mana blades raised—

And that’s when the world froze.

A monstrous pressure slammed down on the battlefield like a falling mountain.

Everyone halted.

Even Merit.

And Anippe.

The very air stilled—dense, suffocating, unyielding.

The golden threads of mana in Merit’s hands trembled violently before snapping apart. Her eyes widened slightly as the full weight of the aura settled on her shoulders.

This wasn’t Master rank. It was the aura of a.

Grandmaster.

The four guards attempting to strike the assassins collapsed to one knee, sweat pouring down their faces. Their blades clattered to the ground, their hands trembling too hard to hold them.

Anippe gritted her teeth, her body taut with resistance, but even she could only remain standing with effort.

And Merit—though still upright—felt the pressure digging into her very soul. Her lungs fought to expand. Her heart beat slower. Her instincts screamed.

She turned her eyes toward the source.

Across the ridge, a new figure stood.

Shrouded in a flowing cloak of shifting obsidian threads, the silhouette was nearly featureless—only the burning violet eyes beneath the hood were visible, glowing like twin brands of death.

They hadn’t sensed him arrive.

Not even once.

The assassins on the ground—both barely alive—let out faint, strangled gasps. They recognized this presence.

For the first time in a while, she felt more like prey than a predator.