Alexandria's Keeper - Lord of the Mysteries

Irina's voice was barely steady now as an ominous smile spread over her face. "I'll give you blood and destruction."

The mage's next movements were sharp but quick. She rushed forward, grabbed her now glowing fan, and whipped her hand in a precise arc towards Ince.

The man's eyes widened and he jumped to the side—the wall right behind where he'd stood glowed a faint red as the slash hit. The wallpaper burned away and the very concrete and bricks rapidly cooled off, revealing their melted state.

Ash floated in the air as the pungent smell of chemicals mixed with the other fumes. It took Ince only a second to realize the woman in front of him was much more dangerous than expected. His hand moved fluidly, pulling out a parchment and swiftly writing on it.

Irina'seyes narrowed; her cold, piercing tone cutting through the suffocating heat. "No." Her voice sent shivers down everyone's spine.

Her hand moved in a blur, sending five consecutive slashes specifically aimed at his hand. Incedodged each strike, but the wall behind him wasn't so lucky. It exploded outward with the force of her attack, the deafening boom rattling the room. Even Irina flinched, her enhanced hearing overwhelmed by the sound. Debris rained down onto the street below, but no one dared look away from the battle.

"How are you—" Incebegan, only to step over a circle on the ground. He began to float upwards only for a spirit to appear and move him to the side, back on solid ground. His grip on the quill faltered just enough to give the mage an opening.

Go all in! Her lips curled into a feral grin as multiple glowing circles materialized all around the room, some on the walls and others even mid-air, spinning at different speeds with multiple, intricate symbols appearing on each one of them. With two precise slashes and the help of some rings, the quill flew out of Ince's hand. YES!

Irina's smile was short-lived. 0-08 began to write on its own, the quill scribbling furiously against the parchment. Ince, still being relatively close, widened his eyes at the words, "Forgotten Mage—sequence six?! How!"

Just then, the temperature dropped drastically, bringing her back to the start of the fight against Megose. Don't tell me...

Ince grinned and Irina's spirituality made her head snap toward the faint clicking sound, eyes wide with alarm. Her heart clenched when she saw the same scene from earlier repeat once again.

Dunn had opened the box containing Sait Selena's ashes and his complexion had deteriorated even more. Faint threads appeared once more, draining him of his energy as his skin lost more and more luster. His legs trembled and more and more blood began disappearing from his open wounds, being absorbed by the sealed artifact. After all my work?! Her expression darkened, NO!

A circle appeared right beneath the box, and another under the Captain's unsteady feets. His eyes flicked downward with slight confusion, then surprise when his connection to the container got severed.

The box floated upward and, with a new circle that the mage created on the spot, it was hurled to the side, far away from the Captain's hands hands. Relief flooded her for a moment.

Irina even smiled with satisfaction before realizing her terrible mistake. The direction in which she had thrown Saint Selena's Ashes was right in Ince's direction. That fucking quill! Why is it helping HIM?!

She jerked her head around, heart pounding in her chest as she glanced at the blond man's disgusting hand hastily writing something down.

Irina clenched her teeth, roaring in anger, "You fucking bastard!"

Gunshots rang out, all aimed at Ince's form, but neither hit the former Archbishop. The mage didn't bother turning around to see who fired, she instead focused on creating and activating multiple circles.

She slashed again, her fan cutting through the air, but Ince dodged once more, and another wall crumbled under her attack. The mage prepared to attack him more when a faint cracking sound caught her attention.

She turned just in time to watch as the side of the upper floor tipped down dangerously. Her eyes darted to the base of a shattered pillar—her own doing.

Frye and Royale struggled to rise, their blistered, reddened skin evidence of the earlier battle against Megose. Their wounds were also Irina's fault.

In a split second, Irina's pupils darted from them to the ceiling crumbling right over their heads. It's my fault they got injured to start with, if they d—

The upper floor collapsed instantly and Irina's focus was rightfully diverted. "No!" She shouted, a massive blue circle materializing above them, solidifying into a shield.

Smoke and dust flowed up, swallowing the already unrecognizable reception in even more destruction. The ground disappeared beneath a layer of rubble, jagged debris jutting out like fractured bones.

Irina coughed violently, her lungs burning as she stumbled back, eyes watering from the stinging sensation clawing at them. Blinking rapidly, she tried to make sense of the chaos.

Her heart hammered in her chest. She blinked rapidly, her mind racing. Did I make the shield in time? Are they... Her heart clenched. What if I was too late? Again...

Her spirituality was triggered—danger.

She was forcefully dragged away from her thoughts. The mage threw herself desperately to the side. But she was too slow.

Pain, searing and raw, erupted in her side.

Her breath hitched, and she almost lost her footing as she clutched at the wound. Hot, wet blood poured between her fingers, its sticky warmth seeping into her trembling hand. She dared a glance down and saw the jagged tear in her flesh; the crimson spreading too fast, pouring down in a similar pit-pat sound that painfully reminded her of Klein's death.

Irina's instincts screamed at her, and she turned, her fan tearing through the dusty air. Her strike met no resistance, not hitting anyone. A low laugh followed as Ince leaped back, completely unscathed.

"Wretched vermin," she spat, her voice trembling painfully with fury.

His silhouette emerged from the dust, his face twisted in mocking delight. "Weak," he gloated, his voice dripping with distaste. In his other hand, he held the box, its edges gleaming even through the heavy air.

Saint Selena's ashes.

Her stomach flipped as cold dread mixed with hot agony.

She took a step forward but faltered halfway, black spots appearing in her vision. Is this... her heart clenched painfully, my limit?

Irina breathed heavily through clenched teeth, trying to focus the remains of her strength on the enemy in front of her. Ince'smovements had slowed, his dismissive expression suggesting he no longer saw her as a threat.

Her hearing was muffled, but she still heard the gunshots loud and clear. She didn't need to look to know it was Dunn—or perhaps Leonard—firing in desperation. Her gaze fixed on Ince, watching in slow motion as he turned toward the source of the attack. With a lazy flick of his wrist, he summoned a horde of spirits, their spectral forms charging toward her teammates.

Not today. Irina forced herself to move, creating a glowing blue shield in front of them. Her hand trembled as she raised it again, slashing through the air with great effort. Their form burned bright for just a second before disappearing completely.

Ince scowled loudly before turning his attention to her once more. "You're an annoying one, you know?" He scowled. "Just like that Seer over there."

Hot rage flared in her chest and her vision blurred even more, but she stepped forward, her body moving on sheer adrenaline.

Another gunshot cracked through the air, but Ince dodged with ease. Irina moved again, her movements slower, her strength waning.

More shots rang out.

Ince grinned.

Irina weeped.

The sharp crack of the gunshot echoed through the crumbling reception, ringing loudly in her ears. Irina vividly registered the sharp, searing pain that followed, her body jerking backward as the bullet tore through her stomach. This—why... she thought numbly as she stumbled, blood blooming across her already torn shirt.

Blood poured down her fingers as she clutched her injured stomach. Searing pain shooting through her entire body like wildfire, her legs barely holding her up. Blinking through the haze, she caught sight of the parchment in Ince's hands, the words a painful explanation of what had just happened.

"Caught in the heat of Ince's words, Dunn Smith fires at his enemy. Ince dodges easily, and Dunn fires more, trying to follow his movements. Blinded by anger, he doesn't realize that his shots hit his subordinate, Irina rather than Ince. This is a logical outcome, since a battle between mid-level sequences is far beyond the Captain of Tingen's Nighthawks team."

Through the haze of agony, her eyes locked onto Dunn, standing frozen, his revolver still raised high. His face was pale, drained of all colors, his expression an awful mixture of horror and disbelief. His lips moved faintly, whispering words so faintly that were almost lost to the chaos around them.

"Irina... no... I didn't—"

She heard it all, of course. Every ragged syllable. Her hearing, unnaturally sharp, caught the faint tremor in his voice. The crack in his usually steady and firm composure.

Irina wanted to laugh but couldn't find the strength to do so. Instead, she barely managed to stand. As the warmth of her own blood seeped into her trembling hands, she looked back at him.

For a moment, their gazes met. In his eyes, she saw it all—the regret, the anguish, the desperate realization of what he'd done.

So, in the end, she thought bitterly, even after everything, after all that suspicion from that damn interrogation, a faint smile tugging at her lips, he still cares.

Her lips moved, forming words she couldn't quite voice. It's fine.

But it wasn't fine. They both knew that. Yet, she still smiled, even if weakly, it was sad but accepting. It's not his fault. She knew that. It was never his fault. The quill had altered reality, twisted fate at its will from the very beginning, and turned his bullet on her instead of the traitor. And now, this was the outcome.

A sharp, cruel laugh shattered the moment, dragging her back to the present.

"Well, isn't this poetic?" Ince sneered, his voice dripping with mocking amusement. He stepped forward, holding the box containing Saint Selena's ashes like a cherished treasure. "The great Dunn Smith, Nighthawks Captain, betraying his own by pulling the trigger, striking down a still sane member of his own team while she's fighting the enemy. This is better than anything I could've expected!"

"Aren't we very similar in that regard? Both of us betrayed our subordinates after all." He gestured grandly to the scene, his smirk widening. "Don't you think?"

You dare compare yourself to HIM?!

Irina's vision blurred, yet, she glared sharply at him. She clenched her fists, a flicker of determination still lingering despite the pain. I'm not dead yet. But she knew she didn't have much time.

Dunn's voice broke through the chaos, hoarse and desperate. "Irina... I..." He seemed unable to find the words, the gun still trembling in his grip as guilt consumed him.

Don't blame yourself, she wanted to say, but all that came out was a shaky exhale. Her hand weakly pressed against the wound as she struggled to stay conscious.

I never liked gambling, but... An idea formed in the mage's head. Calling it a plan would be too much, and the chances of it working were slim if close to none. But it was the only one she could come up with to force Ince to run away and save at least the remaining Nighthawks. It's all or nothing.

In that moment, Irina fully accepted her fate, smiling faintly with pride. My wounds are too severe, she knew that even if she were to come out alive, the church would never trust her again. I kept lying to them, even after they gave me so many chances. There were only two options in front of her: death or imprisonment.

If this is how it ends, the corner of her lips widened even more, then at least I'll choose how to die!

Her sudden expression caught Ince off guard. He frowned, "You've truly lost your mind."

Maybe I have, she thought, her vision darkening. This world is pure madness.

Summoning the last of her strength, she activated the remaining circles in the room. She rushed forward, faster than Ince could react, and firmly grasped at the man's tunic, shocking him briefly.

Right then, he grinned triumphantly, "You're an idiot." He plunged his whole arm forward, tearing through flash and bones as it disappeared into Irina's chest, re-emerging on the other side.

Irina's knees buckled, as she spat out more blood, staining the man's clothes. Even through all this, she kept her head high, staring into the man's eyes, ignoring her almost pitch-black vision.

Two big circles, one under the two's feet while the other high above their heads, activated simultaneously, burning a bright white. The room's temperature rose exponentially.

Ince's eyes widened, the smug confidence draining from his face as realization dawned. He was in danger—real, imminent danger. His hand moved frantically, the pen scratching furiously against the parchment.

But Irina wasn't about to let him escape. Her fingers grabbed his arm with an iron-grip. Her lips curled into a wild, maddening grin, her voice low and venomous as she spat out her last words, "Praise the Sun motherfucker."

The colors all around them became extremely saturated. The destroyed room slowly disappeared from sight just as a beam of light rained down from the sky, melting away everything in its path.

Irina's clothes and hair were charred, smoke curling off her as the heat dissipated. Her breath came in shallow gasps, her chest screaming in agony, as every single nerve throbbed painfully. She barely registered the arm inside her being pulled free, a sickening wet sound accompanying it.

Before she could collapse, another wave of pain hit her hard.

Ince's fist slammed into her abdomen, his strength unforgiving and his disgust palpable.

The impact sent her flying, her body tumbling across the unnatural 'ground' like a broken doll. She landed stiffly a few meters away, gasping for air as the remains of her vision flickered.

"You're fucking crazy!" He snarled, his voice distant yet cutting through the haze in her mind. He spat out something else, vicious and mocking, but her fading strength drowned out the words.

Irina tried to push herself up, but she had no force left. Her body was a symphony of agony—every wound, every burn, every strike she'd endured screaming in unison.

Her fingers twitched, the melted rings still searing her skin, their pain almost secondary now. The gash along her side burned fiercely, the flesh torn open, nearly exposing bone. Blood pooled beneath her, sticky and warm.

Her breath hitched as she thought of everything that had led to this moment. The sleepless nights spent preparing for this fight, knowing it was inevitable. Megose's monstrous form, the battle that drained her of almost everything she had. The captain's stray bullet tearing through her stomach, the guilt in his eyes, a wound as deep as the bullet itself. And now, Ince. His arm thrust into her chest, a cruel mockery of his other victim, and lastly, his strength flinging her away as if she were nothing more than an insect.

Her vision was already black; it had been since the last desperate attack she launched against him. That attack—her one hope, her final gambit—had succeeded.

She forced him to run away.

He evaded the attack by slipping into the spirit world—as she expected—dragging her along—not in the plan.

So, this is it... she thought, her mind strangely quiet despite the agony her body was enduring. I couldn't save Old Neil. I couldn't save Kenley. Klein... I saw him fall, but he'll come back. I know he will. He always does.

The numbness spread, creeping from her fingertips and toes, overtaking the sharp edges of her pain. Her perfect hearing, the one thing she had left, was fading too. Sounds became muffled. Just some distant echoes of a world she was slowly leaving behind.

And yet, even as the darkness swallowed her, there was a flicker of something else. A faint warmth in her chest.

Dunn is alive, she realized, and a faint smile tugged at her bloodied lips. Royale and Frye... they're probably alive too. Even Leonard. I can't... I couldn't do much for them, but they'll be okay.

The weight of her past failure pressed down on her, but it was accompanied by an unexpected lightness. A strange, inexplicable happiness. So, this is how it feels to die, huh? Strange, that's different from when... I fell down... that... building...

As the last shreds of sensation began to fade, something soft brushed against her face—long, silky strands, just a fleeting touch, almost like a whisper. Her heart clenched, the tiniest spark of awareness flickering in her fading mind.

Am I imagining it... she wondered. But it felt so real, a phantom comfort in her final moments.

The pain faded away, replaced by a quiet numbness. Her smile lingered as her breathing slowed, the world slipping further and further away until there was nothing left but the memory of that final touch.

The woman's body lay motionlessly on the couch, her injuries still present yet unchanging; as if time itself had stopped working. Across the small table, a male figure lounged on a sofa, 'His' gaze fixed on her unmoving form.

'His' eyes drifted, taking in the chaos surrounding them—scattered books, tomes, and parchments filled the once-serene library, now resembling the aftermath of a storm.

As 'He' moved his head, long, silk-like strands of black hair slipped over his shoulders, brushing the ground, bypassing the glass-like floor and merging with the dark swirling mass underneath, as if one and the same. 'He' let out a low chuckle, 'His' voice laced with irony. "I go to sleep for a couple of months, and this is what happens." The words were spoken to no one in particular.

A heavy sigh followed, exhaustion evident in 'His' tone. A mysterious tome materialized before 'Him', pulled out of who knows where. Its title, engraved in elegant, mysterious symbols that bore no resemblance to the languages of this world, was simple yet incomplete: Irina...

"Little human," 'He' began, 'His' voice a low murmur that carried a dangerous undertone. 'His' gaze burned into the pages of the book, as though the force of 'His' stare alone could rewrite the fate written inside—perhaps it could. "After all the work I did and am still doing, this is how you repay me?"

'His' tone shifted, growing unnaturally cold, devoid of any trace of humanity. The words cut through the air like shards of ice. "You're not allowed to die."

'His' eyes, unreadable and unfathomable, flicked back to her motionless form. They betrayed no emotion, no thought, yet carried the weight of a command. "Not unless I say so."