Emma, who had already stepped forward, murmured under her breath, genuine surprise slipping into her voice.
"Oh. Unexpected. I thought they’d at least try to negotiate."
I didn’t look away from the men surrounding us.
"You don’t understand," I replied calmly. "In places like this, taking the initiative is everything."
She let out a small sigh.
"...As always, I never know what reckless thing you’ll do next."
Almost on cue, the tension snapped.
We drew our weapons in unison.
"The men are using magic!"
"Leave the dangerous ones for later—aim for the women first!"
"That one’s a servant boy! If we grab the lady he’s attending, he’ll fold!"
Their voices overlapped in crude coordination. They were already imagining leverage, already counting us as captives.
What they failed to understand—
These women weren’t ornaments raised behind garden walls.
A sleek, dark line slid free from Emma’s embrace, coiling through the air like a living thing.
Her eyes sharpened.
"How many idiots like you do you think I’ve dealt with?"
—Swish!
The crack of her whip split the air.
A man lunging toward her didn’t even have time to scream properly. The whip wrapped around his ankle mid-stride, aura flaring along its length, and with a sharp pull—
"Aaagh!"
His body was ripped off the ground and hurled sideways like a discarded doll.
—Crash!
He smashed into a table, splintering it on impact before going limp.
Emma rolled her wrist once, the whip snapping back into her hand.
"Basic self-defense is a noble’s virtue," she said coolly. "Go on. If you think you can handle it—come closer."
She stood poised, relaxed, yet deadly.
Like a scorpion lifting its tail.
Anyone with eyes could tell.
If you were caught, you wouldn’t survive.
The thugs hesitated, their earlier momentum bleeding away as fear crept in. Their gazes shifted, desperate for an easier target.
And then—
Pink hair.
Amelia.
She blinked when she noticed their attention, tilting her head slightly, genuinely puzzled. Her soft hair, like spun sugar, swayed with the movement.
"...You thought I’d be easy prey?"
—Whoosh.
Mana surged.
Flames bloomed above her staff, swirling and compressing into tight arcs of heat.
"No way—she’s a wizard too!"
"Fall back!"
"Hot—damn it, it’s burning!"
"Water! Someone use water!"
Fire erupted—not wild, not reckless, but precise. Bursts of flame scorched sleeves, singed boots, forced screams from unprepared throats.
Men dropped their weapons, clutching blistered arms and faces.
Even as chaos erupted, Amelia moved with unnerving composure.
Her staff flicked once, twice—each motion precise. Flames shifted position midair, not to pursue recklessly, but to herd. Escape routes vanished one by one as walls of fire rose exactly where they were needed.
And yet—
The wooden beams didn’t scorch.
The hanging drapes didn’t singe.
The liquor-soaked shelves remained untouched.
Not even a spark went astray.
Her mana control was flawless.
"...Still not enough," I muttered.
The ambushers were battered—burned, thrown back, caught off guard—but they weren’t amateurs. They gritted their teeth, endured the damage, and forced themselves upright.
Of course they wouldn’t go down that easily.
I had expected that much.
A rough voice cut through the crackle of fire.
"Then we take a hostage. If we’ve got you, they won’t dare move."
Several pairs of eyes snapped toward me.
Hostile. Greedy. Certain.
I blinked.
"...Me?" I asked, genuinely puzzled.
"Who else, you bastard!" one of them snarled, sword lowering into a killing stance.
I sighed.
Ugh. Thieves really did have the worst mouths.
They’d seen what I could do earlier—magic, tactics, coordination—and still decided I was the weakest link.
A mistake.
A very big one.
"So,you’re planning to attack my servant?"
The words weren’t mine.
The temperature dropped.
At the same moment, my shadow moved.
It stretched unnaturally along the floor, peeling itself away from my feet like liquid ink. The darkness swelled, rose, and took shape—
A woman stepped out of it.
Blonde hair fluttered softly.
A monochrome maid’s outfit, pristine and utterly out of place.
Golden eyes glowing faintly with predatory amusement.
Velra.
The pressure she exuded wasn’t explosive.
It was crushing.
Like standing at the bottom of a deep sea.
– Squirm. Squirm.
The sound wasn’t spoken aloud, yet everyone heard it—inside their heads, scraping against their nerves.
Emma, behind me, audibly swallowed.
"T-that vampire... from before..." she whispered.
– Click. Clack.
Velra’s shoes touched the tavern floor as she took a single step forward.
The trio froze.
Not one of them dared breathe.
Blood dripped steadily from the bartender’s corpse behind them, each drop striking the floor with obscene clarity in the sudden silence.
The reason I had summoned her was simple.
If we can use Velra’s power... then we should squeeze every drop of value out of it.
No matter how many demons rushed her, none could overcome her swordsmanship.
No matter how many arrogant nobles challenged Alice at once, they would be crushed beneath her blade.
Above a certain threshold, a single strong individual stopped being "one combatant" and became a solution.
And Velra—
a noble vampire of the Drazroth Empire—
was exactly that kind of existence.
"D-don’t panic!" one man shouted desperately, trying to rally the others. "It’s just a trick! An illusion—!"
He didn’t finish the sentence.
Velra vanished.
No sound.
No warning.
Her hand slammed his head into the floor with effortless force.
Crack.
The tavern shook.
Just like the bartender earlier, his body couldn’t withstand the pressure. Blood burst outward, painting the floor in jagged crimson lines as the metallic stench thickened the air.
Velra straightened, wiping her hand against her apron with mild distaste.
Then she looked back at me.
"How shall we handle the rest?" she asked.
Her tone was utterly indifferent.
As if she were asking how to dispose of ants.
A chill ran up my spine, goosebumps breaking out across my arms.
Thank god she’s on our side.
Friend or foe, Velra was the kind of being who could lock an entire room in place just by existing.
I met her gaze and answered calmly.
"Alive if possible," I said. "Dead if necessary."
Velra smiled.
A beautiful, terrifying smile.
"I like that," she replied softly.
The remaining attackers finally broke.
Some screamed.
Some dropped their weapons.
Some tried to run away.
But it was no use....
Because real hunter was here.