The dome dissolved into wisps of dark energy, dissipating like smoke caught in wind. Gunn stepped over Raze's motionless body without a second glance, his hooded gaze fixing on Mariabel where she knelt in the street.

Her flames had died completely, exhaustion leaving her defenseless as the Master rank cultivator approached with measured steps. Tears still streamed down her face, grief and rage warring in her golden eyes.

"Your turn," Gunn said simply.

Mariabel forced herself to stand despite legs that trembled from depleted reserves. Her hands came up in fighting stance even though she had nothing left to give, even though she knew this was suicide.

"I'll kill you," she whispered, voice raw from screaming. "I don't care what it takes, I'll find a way to kill you for what you did to him."

"Empty threats from someone who can barely stand," Gunn replied. "But I appreciate the spirit, makes this more satisfying."

He moved.

Whoosh.

His speed carried him across the distance before Mariabel could react, curved blade already swinging toward her exposed side. She threw herself backward, instinct overriding exhaustion as she desperately avoided the strike.

The blade passed inches from her ribs, close enough that she felt the displaced air. She rolled and came up in crouch, hands igniting with flames that flickered weakly compared to her earlier inferno.

Gunn adjusted his angle and attacked again, his strikes methodical and precise. He wasn't rushing, wasn't trying to overwhelm her with raw power. This was calculated dismantling, each attack designed to drain what little she had left.

Clang.

Mariabel conjured a wall of fire between them, the barrier barely three feet high and translucent enough to see through. Gunn walked through it without slowing, his cultivation pressure dispersing the weak flames like morning mist.

She backpedaled frantically, throwing fireballs that he either dodged or absorbed with his curved blade. Each manifestation of her Authority cost energy she didn't have, drawing from reserves that were already empty.

Fwoosh. Fwoosh.

"You fight well for someone at Expert rank," Gunn observed, his tone almost conversational. "Better technique than most at your level, but technique means nothing when you're running on fumes."

His blade came around in horizontal slash that Mariabel ducked under, the weapon passing through the space where her neck had been. She tried to counter with point blank fireball but the conjuration fizzled before fully forming, her mana completely depleted.

Gunn's fist caught her in the stomach while she was still recovering from the failed technique.

Thud.

The impact folded her in half, driving the air from her lungs in explosive gasp. She staggered backward, arms wrapping around her midsection as she struggled to breathe through the pain.

The second punch caught her jaw, snapping her head sideways with force that made her vision blur. She tasted blood, felt something crack in her mouth as the Master rank strength overwhelmed her Endurance completely.

Crack.

Mariabel hit the ground hard, rolling several feet before momentum stopped. She tried to push herself up but her arms gave out, strength finally abandoning her completely.

"Get up," Gunn said, standing over her. "I know you're not finished yet, that fire in your eyes says you're still fighting."

She spat blood and forced herself to her knees, golden eyes blazing with fury that transcended physical capability. Her cultivation was empty, her body was broken, but her will remained unshattered.

"That's better," Gunn nodded approval. "Show me that determination one more time before I seal you away."

Mariabel lunged with everything she had left, her fist aimed at his face with desperate speed. The strike carried no enhanced strength, no mana reinforcement, just raw human physicality driven by absolute rage.

Gunn caught her wrist effortlessly, his grip like iron as he stopped the attack without visible effort. His other hand shot forward, blade reversed so the pommel caught her solar plexus.

Thump.

She doubled over again, gasping as pain exploded through her torso. Gunn released her wrist and she collapsed forward, catching herself on hands and knees.

"Admirable but pointless," he said. "You're fighting with nothing but willpower now, and willpower alone won't overcome the gap between our capabilities."

His boot caught her ribs, the kick lifting her off the ground and sending her tumbling across the cobblestones. She came to rest near where Raze's body lay, her vision swimming as accumulated damage pushed her toward unconsciousness.

Crack. Crack.

Multiple ribs broke from the impact, the pain so intense it cut through the fog threatening to claim her awareness. She coughed and more blood came up, internal injuries adding to the collection of wounds.

Gunn walked toward her with that same measured pace, giving her time to process what was coming. This wasn't mercy but calculated cruelty, letting her understand her complete helplessness before delivering the final blow.

Mariabel's hand found Raze's, her fingers closing around his cold flesh as tears started fresh. "I'm sorry," she whispered to his unhearing body. "I tried, I really tried but I wasn't strong enough."

"Touching," Gunn said, reaching down to grab a fistful of her hair. He yanked her upright with casual strength, ignoring her cry of pain as he forced her to her knees. "Now let's finish this so I can move on to your other friends."

His free hand began gathering dark energy, the same technique he'd used on Raze manifesting around his fingers. Symbols carved from absence itself appeared in the air, the ritual preparation for sealing her soul.

Mariabel struggled weakly but her body wouldn't respond properly, exhaustion and injury leaving her as helpless as Raze had been. She could only watch as those darkness touched fingers moved toward her chest, toward the center where her cultivation core resided.

"May the Abyss receive what the world rejects," Gunn intoned.

---

In the southern district, Oziel's blade met Bowman's daggers with impact that shattered windows in nearby buildings.

Clang!

Both Master Peak cultivators were showing signs of extended combat, their movements slightly less precise than when the fight had begun. Oziel's shoulder still bled from earlier poison exposure, the wound refusing to close properly despite his bloodline's healing. Bowman's regenerated leg was holding but clearly causing him discomfort, his stance favoring his original limb.

"You're slowing down," Bowman observed between exchanges, his amber eyes tracking every minute change in Oziel's technique. "That poison is still working through your system despite the antidote."

"And you're limping," Oziel countered, his blade creating silver arcs that forced the assassin backward. "Regeneration potions aren't perfect, that leg will fail you eventually."

They crashed together again, their weapons meeting in rapid succession that generated sparks and shockwaves. The street around them was completely destroyed, cobblestones torn up and buildings damaged from the overflow of their power.

Clang clang clang clang!

Bowman disengaged and threw a volley of poison needles, the constructs spreading to cover a wide area. Oziel's sword cut through most of them but several got past his defense, embedding in his arms and torso.

Thwick. Thwick. Thwick.

More toxin flooded his system, adding to the accumulated exposure that was steadily degrading his effectiveness. His vision blurred momentarily before his bloodline burned away enough poison to restore clarity.

But the constant purging was draining, requiring energy that could have gone toward offense or defense. Bowman's strategy was working, wearing him down through attrition rather than seeking decisive blow.

Oziel pressed forward anyway, his technique flawless despite the mounting exhaustion. His blade found openings in Bowman's defense, forcing the assassin to give ground or risk serious injury.

Slash.

The edge caught Bowman's side, opening a cut that bled profusely. The wound wasn't deep enough to be immediately dangerous but it was another mark against the assassin's depleting resources.

They separated again, both breathing hard as they evaluated each other across ten feet of destroyed street. This fight had gone on far longer than either had anticipated, both warriors pushed beyond what they'd normally sustain.

Far ahead, Helena ran toward the southern broadcasting station with desperate speed. Her pack bounced against her back with each stride, the broadcast crystal secured inside representing their entire mission's success or failure.

She could hear the combat behind her, could hear the impacts and explosions as two Master Peak cultivators tried to kill each other. But she didn't look back, following Oziel's instructions to run and complete the activation no matter what happened to him.

The station was just three streets away now, close enough that she could see its outline against the night sky. Her lungs burned from exertion but she pushed harder, professional determination overriding physical discomfort.

Behind her, Bowman noticed her fleeing form during a brief exchange with Oziel. His amber eyes tracked her movement, calculating distances and angles with assassin's precision.

She's the real objective, his tactical mind recognized. The swordsman is just protection, she's carrying whatever they're trying to broadcast.

He manifested three poison needles during the next exchange, the constructs forming while his daggers occupied Oziel's attention. The needles launched toward Helena's retreating back with speed that made them nearly invisible.

Whoosh whoosh whoosh.

Oziel's perception caught the attack a heartbeat too late, his attention divided between defending himself and tracking Bowman's movements. "Helena, down!" he shouted, his voice carrying desperation.

But the warning came too slow, the needles already crossing the distance between Bowman and his target. Helena heard Oziel's shout and started to drop but momentum carried her forward, her body unable to change direction fast enough.

Thwick.

The first needle caught her shoulder, poison flooding directly into her system. Her arms went numb immediately, the concentrated toxin designed to paralyze rather than kill. The broadcast crystal tumbled from her suddenly nerveless fingers as she collapsed forward.

Crash.

She hit the cobblestones hard, unable to catch herself with paralyzed arms. The crystal bounced twice before coming to rest several feet away, its glow dimming as it rolled to a stop.

"No!" Oziel's roar carried anguish that transcended the tactical concern. His Flash Step activated, carrying him toward Helena's fallen form with speed born from desperate need to protect.

But Bowman was already moving to intercept, his Shadow Step matching Oziel's technique as he positioned himself between the swordsman and the journalist. His daggers came up in defensive posture, poison aura intensifying.

"Your attention divided is your weakness," Bowman said, his blade catching Oziel's desperate strike. "Should have let her go alone if you wanted her to survive."

Clang!

The impact sent both fighters stumbling backward. Oziel tried to circle toward Helena but Bowman mirrored his movement, maintaining the barrier between them. The assassin's tactics had shifted from killing Oziel to simply keeping him occupied, preventing him from reaching the paralyzed journalist.

Helena lay motionless on the cobblestones, her consciousness intact but her body completely unresponsive. She could see the broadcast crystal lying just beyond her reach, could understand that their entire mission was failing because she couldn't move her arms to retrieve it.

Oziel and Bowman clashed again, their blades meeting with force that carved new gouges in the already destroyed street. But both warriors were flagging now, exhaustion and accumulated injuries finally overwhelming even Master Peak endurance.

Clang clang!

Oziel's blade found Bowman's shoulder, cutting deep enough to disable the assassin's left arm. Bowman's dagger caught Oziel's back in exchange, poison flooding directly into the wound with concentrated dose that no amount of bloodline purging could immediately counter.

Squelch.

Both fighters staggered, their legs giving out simultaneously as their bodies finally surrendered to the damage. They collapsed within feet of each other, consciousness fading as exhaustion and injury claimed them both.

The street fell silent except for Helena's shallow breathing, three people lying motionless while the broadcast crystal's glow slowly dimmed in the darkness.

---

In the eastern district, Aslan's silver aura flickered and died.

The transformation that had kept him fighting at sixty five percent finally collapsed, his control slipping as consciousness began fading. Six knights had been reduced to three through his savage assault, but those three were still combat effective while he was barely standing.

His vision doubled, the Mercurian modifications withdrawing as his human consciousness reasserted dominance over the beast. But the transition left him vulnerable, caught between states with neither form's full capabilities available.

One knight's sword caught his shoulder, cutting deep through flesh that was no longer hardened by silver energy. Blood sprayed and Aslan roared, the sound mixing human pain with bestial fury.

Slash.

Another blade found his thigh, hamstringing him and sending him crashing to one knee. He tried to rise but his leg wouldn't support his weight, the injury too severe for even his enhanced healing to compensate quickly.

The third knight moved past him completely, his objective clearly not Aslan but something beyond. The silver eyed fighter tried to grab the man's ankle but his hand closed on empty air, coordination failing as blood loss accelerated.

Thud.

He collapsed forward, catching himself on his hands as darkness crept into his vision. Behind him he could hear the knights' footsteps receding, their mission apparently more important than finishing him off.

No, his mind screamed through the fog. Kael, they're going for Kael.

But his body wouldn't respond, wouldn't give him the strength to pursue or even call out warning. He could only kneel there bleeding as consciousness slipped away.

The two knights who'd bypassed him found their target easily enough. Kael stood near the eastern broadcasting station, his hands working frantically on the crystal's activation sequence.

"Stop!" one knight shouted, raising his sword.

Kael spun, his eyes widening as he recognized the threat. He had no combat capabilities, no way to defend himself against armed opponents. His hand instinctively went to his pouch of alchemical supplies but there wasn't time to deploy anything useful.

The first knight reached him and struck with pommel rather than blade, the impact catching Kael's temple and sending him sprawling. The broadcast crystal tumbled from his grip, skittering across the ground.

Thunk.

The second knight caught it before it could roll away, his armored fingers closing around the enchanted device. He examined it briefly, recognizing what it was from the magical signature.

"This is what they were trying to protect," he said to his companion. "The evidence they wanted to broadcast."

He raised his armored boot and brought it down on the crystal with Master rank enhanced strength.

Crunch.

The device shattered into hundreds of fragments, magical energy dissipating as the stored information was destroyed beyond recovery. The evidence Kael had been carrying, the testimony and documentation, all of it reduced to inert shards scattered across cobblestones.

"Mission complete," the first knight said, checking to ensure Kael was unconscious rather than dead. "Let's report back to Lord Gunn."

They departed quickly, leaving Kael's motionless form near the destroyed crystal. The eastern broadcasting station remained dark and silent, its purpose unfulfilled.

---

Back in the western district, Gunn's darkness touched fingers were inches from Mariabel's chest when every instinct he possessed screamed warning.

Danger. Immediate. Lethal.

He didn't question the sensation, didn't waste time analyzing the threat. His body moved before his conscious mind had fully processed, releasing Mariabel's hair and throwing her away from him with force that sent her tumbling across the street.

Whoosh.

Golden light slashed through the space where his head had been, the attack carrying power that made his skin prickle despite not connecting. He completed his dodge with roll that put distance between himself and whatever had just attacked.

The light carved a line through the cobblestones, cutting through stone like it was paper. The precision was absolute, the power concentrated into an edge that could have bisected him without slowing.

Gunn came to his feet with curved blade raised, his eyes tracking back to the attack's origin. What he saw made him reassess the entire tactical situation immediately.

A young man stood where Mariabel had been kneeling, perhaps nineteen years old with golden hair that seemed to glow with internal light. He cradled Mariabel in his arms with surprising gentleness, his blue eyes fixed on Gunn with expression mixing concern and righteous fury.

But it was the aura surrounding him that made Gunn's blood run cold. Divine energy clung to the boy like a second skin, the unmistakable signature of celestial blessing made manifest. This wasn't normal cultivation, this was something beyond mortal power.

The young man's free hand held a sword that blazed with golden radiance, the weapon clearly the source of that devastating slash. His stance was protective rather than aggressive, positioning himself between Mariabel and any further threat.

Gunn's enhanced perception identified what he was facing with certainty that made his tactical calculations shift dramatically.

The Chosen of Light. The Goddess's champion. The hero destined to oppose darkness wherever it manifested.

And judging by the fury in those blue eyes, the hero had just found something worth fighting for.

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