Revenge: A Path of Destruction
Chapter 70: One More Down

Chapter 70: One More Down

The moment the assassin vanished, a breath of death whispered through the air.

Merit turned—but not fast enough.

A flicker of shadow, and the Grandmaster reappeared behind Anippe.

His poisoned dagger was already swinging down, fangs of green light tracing death in the air.

Anippe moved—barely.

Steel shrieked against steel as her blade intercepted the strike, the shock of impact jolting through her bones. Sparks lit the darkness. Poison hissed against the air where it splashed from the dagger’s edge.

"You’ve got reflexes," the assassin growled, his voice low, feral. "Let’s see how long they last."

He vanished again.

Not teleportation—just sheer speed, far beyond what Merit or her Shwt could track easily in this restricted state.

Anippe fell back, vanishing into a bloom of shadow that swallowed her whole. Her darkness affinity pulsed through the space like a breath held in the lungs of the night. In the next instant, she reappeared a few meters away, low to the ground, blade at the ready.

Merit didn’t wait.

She struck her foot hard against the earth, her mana surging like a wildfire through the dust and grit. The ground shuddered beneath her command—not yielding like a devoted lover to a Grandmaster’s caress, but rising, rebellious yet responsive, to her will. The very stones trembled as if awakened from a deep slumber, groaning in protest while aligning with her fierce determination.

The terrain shifted, jagged rocks jutting upward in unpredictable spikes.

Her whip lashed outward, its edge reinforced with a sliver of earth magic. It cracked toward where the assassin reappeared—closer this time.

He tilted his head and ducked beneath the whip, dagger slashing toward her ankles.

Merit twisted, leaping back, whip snapping down like a second spine. She landed hard, breath tight in her chest.

"I see," the assassin murmured. "Coordination, is it?"

The shadows to his right erupted as Anippe emerged again, her blade sweeping low.

He blocked the strike, parrying with fluid precision—but, Merit’s whip lashed toward his exposed flank as he did.

The Grandmaster snarled and twisted, taking the strike along the shoulder. Though the whip didn’t break the skin, the impact staggered him slightly.

That was all the opening they had.

Anippe flickered in and out of focus, a ghostly figure darting through the interplay of shadow and light. Her movements were fluid and precise, each strike a swift and calculated attempt to find a weakness in her opponent’s defenses—sharp and probing, they always seemed to originate from the edges of sight, making her appear almost elusive.

Merit surged forward with determination, channeling the very earth beneath their feet. With a fierce gesture, she summoned jagged spikes of stone to erupt violently from the ground, forcing the assassin off-balance and momentarily disrupting her rhythm. At the same time, she unleashed a flurry of whip strikes that crackled through the air like thunder, their power resonating with every strike as they rained down around Anippe, aiming to close the distance between them with relentless force.

Together, they pressed the advantage.

Just for a moment.

Just enough to push him back.

But only for a moment.

He pivoted, impossibly fast, grabbing one of the rock spikes and hurling it like a javelin toward Merit.

She ducked, the projectile grazing her side—burning through her robe as it passed. She hissed in pain but remained upright.

The Grandmaster spun toward Anippe, feinting low. When she went to block, his free hand cracked against her ribs with a brutal backhand.

She stumbled, coughing violently, her eyes flickering with pain.

"Your coordination’s cute," he said, straightening. His poison mana flared again—faint, but unmistakable, like smoke curling under a door. "But predictable."

He flicked his wrist and vanished.

Merit braced—but the strike didn’t come for her.

Anippe cried out—barely.

The assassin had reappeared behind her, dagger already nicking her side.

She twisted just enough to avoid a killing blow, but poison flooded into the wound all the same.

Merit screamed, slamming her mana into the earth. A stone wall surged between them, forcing the Grandmaster back as she rushed toward Anippe.

The Shwt was on her knees, panting, sweat pouring from her forehead.

"Still alive," she grunted.

"For now," Merit said, grabbing her arm and hauling her up.

"I can still fight."

"You don’t have a choice," Merit snapped. "We hold. That’s all. Just hold."

The dome of the artifact still shimmered above them—suppressing the assassin’s connection to his domain and reducing his power. But even so, he was stronger, faster, deadlier.

A Grandmaster wasn’t just their domain. Their entire body had been reforged by it. Even suppressed, he was a living weapon.

Merit’s mana was nearly spent. The artifact had cost her more than she wanted to admit.

Still, she stood.

Anippe stood beside her, blade trembling slightly.

They didn’t need to win.

Just survive.

Just until the reinforcements came.

The assassin didn’t give them time to think.

He came again—dagger raised, poison trailing like a comet of green flame.

Merit’s whip lashed out, snagging his ankle. For a heartbeat, she pulled—and Anippe lunged from the shadows, slicing across his midsection.

Blood sprayed.

Dark, thick, and boiling with mana.

The assassin hissed, spinning and delivering a savage elbow into Anippe’s face. She flew backward, crashing into the ground.

Before he could turn, Merit let the whip go and slammed both hands into the earth. Four jagged stone pillars burst around the assassin, trapping him momentarily.

With a booming laugh that echoed through the dome, he unleashed a powerful kick, shattering one of the pillars into a cascade of splinters.

"You’re running on fumes," he said, stepping through the rubble. "Your friend’s half-dead. And you—" his dagger twirled lazily "—are slower with every move."

Merit’s fingers twitched. Sweat ran down her spine.

He wasn’t wrong.

But he was also bleeding now.

She lifted her hand, the whip materializing once more. Her eyes locked with Anippe’s—who was already pulling herself back to her feet.

The Shwt’s eyes glowed faintly, shadow mana coiling around her like smoke. She nodded once.

One more push.

They struck again—Merit from the front, whip cracking with sharp precision, while Anippe flowed from the darkness like liquid blade work.

The assassin parried, twisted, struck back—each movement a blur of calculated violence.

But Merit ducked under a dagger swipe and landed a crushing earth-imbued punch into his gut. He grunted, stumbling.

Anippe slid low, slicing at his thigh. The blade bit deep.

He kicked her away, turning in a snarl—only for Merit’s whip to crack across his face.

He staggered back, snarling. Blood marked his cheek.

Breathing hard, Merit forced herself to stand straight. "Still think it’ll be easy?"

He paused.

Then smiled.

And disappeared.

This time, Merit’s eyes widened.

Not at her.

Anippe.

The Shwt’s body stiffened as the dagger came for her throat with even more speed—

Anippe dogde it again.

But the blade slipped past the edge of her defense, slicing across her right shoulder.

She gasped.

The wound turned black in an instant.

Veins near the cut pulsed with dark poison. Her movement stuttered. Her stance faltered.

"No!" Merit shouted, trying to reach her.

But Anippe stumbled.

Her darkness wavered.

And that—that—was enough.

The assassin stepped through her weakened guard and plunged the dagger into her chest.

The breath caught in Anippe’s throat. Her eyes widened. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out—only blood.

"No, no, no!"

Merit moved—earth breaking beneath her feet—but she was too late.

The assassin twisted the dagger, then kicked Anippe’s limp body aside like broken pottery.

Silence fell for a heartbeat.

Then Merit screamed.

The ground around her exploded in fury as she launched forward. Her whip snapped toward his throat, and this time he caught it—with his bare hand.

"Touching," he muttered. "That touching."

He flung the whip aside and lunged.

Merit ducked—barely—and retaliated with a sharp thrust of a stone spike from the ground, catching him off-guard and scraping his thigh.

She fought with everything she had.

And still, she was losing.

Breath was ragged. Mana fading.

Blood on her arms. Her legs. Her neck.

The assassin smiled.

"You’re strong. Fierce. You’d have made a fine queen."

His blade danced across her side, and she howled in pain.

Merit collapsed to one knee, one hand clutching her side, her other dragging her whip behind her.

"I can pay you..." she whispered. "Whatever they’re giving—double it."

He tilted his head. "Hmph. They always say that too."

"Triple," she gasped. "Just spare me..."

His expression shifted, shadows creeping into his features as he crouched to meet her gaze. The intensity in his eyes was palpable, a storm brewing beneath the surface. "Sorry, princess, but that’s a no," he said, his voice low and sharp, cutting through the tension like a knife.

"My client wants you dead"

Merit’s eyes widened, panic flashing through them.

He stood.

And in one final motion, he slashed across her throat.

The world slowed.

Warm blood spilled over her hands.

Her body hit the ground with a dull, trembling thud.

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