Alice took a step forward, the air vibrating around her. Her rapier, held firmly in her hand, was an extension of her arm. Mirabelle stared at her, eyes wide open with excitement more than fear.

"Oh, another poor thing wants to try her luck? This one was rather boring, so I hope you'll give me a better show!"

She kicked Griak in the stomach, sending him flying toward a wall. But Alice, quick as lightning, leapt forward and caught the dwarf in her arms. Rilian’s eyes widened. Mirabelle burst into a perverse laugh.

"Hehe, you seem nimble! What’s your name, little lamb?

 Alice ignored the woman. Instead, she knelt beside Griak and pulled some medicinal herbs from her inventory, gathered in the Cursed Forest.

 "Here, apply this to your wounds. It’s not immediate, but it should help."

 "You… How did you manage to catch me?"

 "I’m sorry… I hid my identity from you. I’m…"

 "A vampire, I know. We found out a bit earlier. Shaeka and Osim knew too, and they still decided to come save you. So you don’t have to feel guilty."

 A tear slid down the young girl’s cheek. Griak patted her shoulder.

 "She’s really strong, be careful, friend."

 "I’m strong too. Strong enough to avenge our friends. Rest, I’ll take care of her."

 The dwarf didn’t argue, only searching her eyes before nodding in approval. Mirabelle watched the scene with a pout, one hand on her hip and the other twirling her black locks around her finger.

 "Are you done? It’s not nice to ignore me like that."

 Alice leapt back to Rilian to give him a few healing leaves as well. She turned her back to the Faërenne, deliberately ignoring her.

 "Grrr! You’re starting to annoy me, brat!"

 She lunged at Alice, dagger first. But instead of plunging into her back, the blade sank into a small wall of earth that had just risen.

 "You seem awfully eager to die, old hag!"

 Alice’s voice was filled with power, as was the air around her. Rilian, standing in front of her, couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He barely recognized the girl. Once bright-eyed and gentle, with a frail and innocent look, her face now showed the determination of a hunter ready to track her prey. A serene power emanated from her, as if she had hunted much greater beasts many times before.

 His heart tightened at the thought that such a lovely young girl, who could have been the star of noble banquets, looked as though she had survived countless battles between life and death.

 "Alice…"

 She gave him a faint, apologetic smile, then turned to Yeoman, still with the group of civilians.

 "Take the civilians and get out of the cave, now."

 Her tone left no room for argument, and the young man obeyed, leading the group toward the exit. Mirabelle rushed toward them, daggers drawn.

 "Oh no! My master won’t be happy if I let his precious army escape!"

 Alice stepped between them, blocking the deadly path of the daggers with her own blade. A wall of earth rose as the last civilians fled the cave.

 "My name is Alice Vanberg. Remember it, for I am the one who will end your miserable existence."

 "Vanberg?!" Rilian and Griak exchanged a stunned glance.

 "Hehehe, finally you talk to me! Very well, Alice, maybe my master will forgive me if I bring him a vampire like you."

Their blades clashed once more, and the fight began.

 Alice struck first, swift as lightning, her rapier drawing tight, calculated arcs, every thrust slicing through the air with deadly precision. She aimed for weak points: flanks, elbows, and behind the knees. Her strikes were sharp, taut like arrows, fueled by imperfect technique but fierce resolve.

 Mirabelle, meanwhile, barely moved. Her daggers danced just enough to deflect Alice’s blade. She spun gracefully, supple as a serpent. Blows rained down, yet none seemed to touch her. A faint, amused smile curved her painted lips.

"Mmh… You hit hard… But you lack grace. You’re no more of a kitten who thinks she’s a tiger."

 Alice clenched her teeth.

 "Better to be a kitten that bites than a viper who underestimates her prey."

 For an instant, their eyes met as their weapons locked. In that flash, Alice caught a spark, the first flicker of focus in Mirabelle’s gaze.

 Despite her mocking tone, the assassin was starting to realize the girl before her was no clumsy novice. There was rage in Alice’s strikes, yes, but also control resulting from fierce training. Her instincts were sharpened by battles for survival, not for show. Yes, the girl might finally be a tiger, displaying a brutal elegance, born in darkness.

 "You’re not from any noble academy, are you?" murmured Mirabelle. "You learned to kill, not to dance."

 "Exactly."

 And Alice counterattacked.

 Their blades clashed in a symphony of steel. Alice held her ground. She wasn’t trying to win quickly. She was observing, studying her opponent’s rhythm and style.

 Sensing danger, Mirabelle shifted rhythm. She slipped between two blows and vanished into the shadows. One of her daggers slashed Alice’s arm, drawing a small bloody line. Another attack came from behind, this time grazing her neck.

 Alice staggered, stepping back to avoid another invisible strike. Mirabelle laughed from the shadows.

 "You see? They all failed here. Why would you be any different?"

 Alice retreated, panting. Her eyes fixed on the shifting darkness. Her mind flashed back to the Cursed Forest, the lurking creatures laying in ambush, the years spent surviving. She remembered how she had wished for light back then. Now, she had it.

 She closed her eyes, breathing slowly, attentive to the air around her.

 When she felt a faint breeze from the shadows to her right, Alice opened her palm. A brilliant light burst forth.

 "Lumina!"

 The assassin screamed, her eyes seared by the sudden glare. She stumbled, disoriented. Alice took this opportunity to strike. In one fluid motion, she drove her rapier into her opponent’s shoulder, then turned, slashing diagonally as a blade of wind amplified the blow. Mirabelle’s arm was severed in a spray of blood.

 A scream of agony and fury shook the cave.

 "YOU… FILTHY… LITTLE GHOUL!"

 "That’s for Osim!"

 Mirabelle’s aura shifted. Her laughter became ragged, distorted. A strange vibration filled the air, not a song like Shaeka, but a dissonance, a tortured cacophony, like a strangled violin.

 Her body twisted. Her Faërenne tattoos rippled. Black shards burst from her back. Her skin darkened, pulsating veins spreading across her face.

 "You want to see what true wild magic is…?"

 Spheres of shadow erupted around her, swirling like ravenous crows. She hurled one, striking the ground; the explosion left a smoking crater. Alice rolled aside, dodging another shot that grazed her arm.

 She retaliated. A wall of stone rose to block the next salva. Then she countered with Earth Fangs, jagged spikes bursting from the ground. Mirabelle dodged, but one grazed her side.

 "Little brat! You’re only delaying your death!"

 "Maybe. But yours is coming fast."

 Alice closed her eyes for a heartbeat. The air around her pulsed. She felt the wind brush her skin, responding to her will like an old friend eager to run. She whispered the incantation.

 "Wind Dash."

 A powerful gust hurled her forward. Her form blurred, almost invisible to the naked eye. In an instant, she appeared, ready to strike, behind an unprepared Mirabelle who desperately tried to evade.

“Too slow!”

 Her rapier carved a precise arc. A clean slash tore into the assassin’s back and leg. Blood sprayed, and another scream ripped through the shadows.

 "I’LL KILL YOU!"

 But Alice was already gone, carried by another gust. Her silhouette seemed to dance among the gales, each motion accompanied by a sharp whistle. The fight entered another realm. Subtlety had given way to fury.

 Invisible blades of wind, sharp as razors, sliced through the air. They ricocheted off the walls, shattered stone, uprooted debris. Mirabelle, blood-soaked, fought back with bursts of pulsing darkness, each one exploding on impact in a hissing black flare. One hit Alice’s arm, making her cry out in pain. She glanced at the wound. Luckily, it was only a graze. It would heal.

 Alice raised a wall of stone to block another projectile, then used Earth Fangs again beneath her foe’s feet, forcing her to leap.

 The two women, furious silhouettes locked in a storm of unleashed magic, clashed at breakneck speed. The wind howled, the ground shook, as shadow and light intertwined in a storm of colors and screams.

 Mirabelle, short of breath and wild-eyed, saw for the first time her opponent as an equal. And perhaps… as a threat.

 Then, little by little, Mirabelle lost her precision. Blood kept pouring from her wounded shoulder and back. Her attacks turned brutal and erratic while she descended into madness. She screamed, striking blindly, consumed by her own rage. She couldn’t seem to move through shadows while her wild magic was active.

 Alice, though wounded and bleeding, stayed calm and focused.

 She feinted a vertical slash, then stepped aside and drove her blade straight into Mirabelle’s heart, her green and blue eyes locked onto the Faërenne’s.

 "And this one is for Shaeka!"

The woman gasped, her eyes still filled with hatred, starting to lose focus.

 "You think you’ve won, little worm…

 …But you’re facing foes far stronger than your little head may imagine."

And finally, Mirabelle collapsed.

 Ding!

Success
[Quest: Defeat Mirabelle]
You have earned 3,013 experience points!
You have leveled up!
Light Magic – Level +1
Please distribute your stat points.

Alice stood still for a moment. She had lost a lot of blood, making her head spin. Little by little, her vision blurred, then she fell to her knees and fainted.

[...]

Night had fallen, a heavy, silent night, where even the wind seemed to avoid the hill. Alice slowly opened her eyes. Tiny lights danced above her, like fireflies suspended between the earth and the sky. The taste of blood lingered on her lips, a dull pain throbbed through her limbs, but she was alive.

 Fleeting, brutal images came back to her. Shaeka’s eyes. Osim’s scream. Mirabelle’s mad laughter. Then the smell of steel and blood. And finally, the silence.

 She had expected to be shaken. To be broken by her first kill. But no, it wasn’t relief, nor satisfaction, it was just… a strange serenity. A certainty that what she had done was right. But also, indifference. Was it this brutal world that had changed her, or her vampiric nature?

 She sat up slowly, checking her body. Bandages covered her arms and ribs, and a warm cloth rested on her shoulders. Rilian and Griak were nearby, sitting in silence. When she moved, they approached.

 "You’re awake," said Rilian softly.

 She nodded.

 "You’ll be fine. The Faëren healer said your wounds were superficial. Your body heals faster than ours… probably because of your condition."

 He hesitated. Then:

 "Vanberg. Is that… really your name?"

 She lowered her eyes, then answered,

 "Yes. Alice Vanberg. Last survivor of the former Ducal House."

 Griak muttered after a few seconds of silence,

 "By the gods… I’d heard you were all dead."

 She proceeded to tell them briefly about the execution of her family and her escape to the forest. The fear she felt when she met the Guardian. Her meeting with Golly, followed by years in hiding and training. She also mentioned the Sect but left out the promise to the goddess.

 Rilian listened without interrupting. When she finished, he placed a hand on her shoulder.

 "You can trust us here. But don’t tell everyone. Especially Yeoman… he’s not ready to hear this. He’s too bound to his faith. Honestly, he is already shaken by the fact that you’re a vampire… well, we all are… but…"

 She nodded.

 “Don’t worry, I’ll be careful.” 

 Later, the group gathered on the nearby hill. The place was peaceful, bathed in the glow of fireflies. The sky, studded with stars, seemed to weep with them.

 The graves had been dug into the soft rock. The priest, an old man saved from the slavers, recited an ancient prayer, his words carried by the wind.

"May Velia, the Just, weigh their deeds and judge them worthy of eternal peace.
May Myrrha, the Wise, show them the way.
May Melua, the Gentle Hand, soothe their flesh and welcome them to her embrace.
May Korath, the Scarlet, punish their murderers,
And may their names never, ever fade from our memory."

 Alice slowly stepped forward, placed her hands on the ground, and closed her eyes. Her magic flowed gently. Three tombs rose, sculpted with royal delicacy. Ancient symbols ran along the sides: fire for Osim, sap, and a star for Shaeka.

 Then she added an orange on the third, at the request of the father of the young boy who had died during the battle.

 Tears ran down her cheeks. But she didn’t sniffle, didn’t waver.

 "Thank you. For everything."

 At her side, Rilian, Griak, and Yeoman also mourned their fallen companions.

 Later, as the campfire’s glow warmed the survivors, Griak sat beside Alice.

 "Are you sure you still want to go to Eleryndrak? Brassac would be safer."

 "I have to go. Alone if I must."

 Rilian answered without hesitation,

 "No way you’re going alone. You’re part of the group now."

 Seth stood up. His face was drawn, but his gaze was firm.

 "I have friends in the capital. I’ll go with you."

 Yeoman, standing apart, remained silent, watching Alice darkly, lost in thought.

 The Faëren family Alice had met in Odette and saved from the slavers approached. The father bowed deeply.

 "We’ll go to Avalon with the others. Thank you. Without you, we’d be dead… or worse."

 Alice gently squeezed his hand.

“Take good care of yourself.”

 The next morning, at dawn, the group set off.

 Destination: the Empire’s capital. Eleryndrak was close.