Chapter 73: A Legend of Loss and Love

"Hmph! Bullshit!"

The burly man roared as he leapt from the seating, soaring through the air toward the stage. Mid-flight, the silvery substance swirled around his hands, forming a massive battleaxe. With a thunderous cry, he brought it down on Williem.

BAM!

A deafening thunderclap rolled through the amphitheater as the man's axe met Williem's flower halberd.

"Haha! You're as tough as they say!" the man bellowed.

"Hmph! What a brute," Williem replied coolly, locking weapons with him.

Their clash resonated through the arena, but I had no time to focus on their battle. My target was clear.

I lunged toward the pale woman.

With my fist balled tightly, my wings propelled me forward, whipping up a fierce hurricane.

BOOM!!

The amphitheater shuddered as my punch collided with her ornate fan.

She hissed, her sharp fangs bared. "Tss... truly troublesome."

I wasted no time, spinning into a kick aimed at her ribs. My earlier injury had healed completely, and I struck with full force.

SWISH!

The air whistled as my leg sliced through it—only to hit her afterimage.

The pale woman reappeared a few feet away, licking her blood-red lips. Her sharp fangs gleamed in the dim light as she grinned wickedly.

"A vampire..." I muttered, narrowing my gaze. "This might be tough."

Before I could react, she lunged forward, closing the gap with startling speed. Her steel fan flashed, slicing through the air toward me.

SWISH!

I flapped my wings forward, dodging her initial attack. But she was relentless, following up with a flurry of precise, lethal strikes.

Dodging each blow with fluid movements, I countered with a powerful flap of my right wing.

SMASH!

My wing crashed into her body, sending her hurtling through several rows of chairs before slamming into the ground.

"Weak," I spat, approaching her fallen form. My gaze was cold and unwavering as I towered over her.

"Bitch..." she hissed through gritted teeth, blood trickling from her nose and mouth.

BANG!

I kicked her, forcing a sharp gasp from her lips.

"Which scoundrel sent you?" I demanded, my voice icy.

The woman remained hunched over, clutching her stomach. Slowly, she raised her head, her lips curling into a chilling grin.

Huh?

An unsettling chill ran down my spine, and I instinctively stepped back.

The pale woman rose to her feet, unsteady at first, then more deliberate. Outstretching her hand, she summoned her fan, which flew to her grip like a loyal servant.

Fanning her face, her wounds began to heal at an unnatural speed. Her once haughty air now radiated a dangerous edge as she fixed her cold gaze on me.

"Scoundrel? You dare call my clique a scoundrel?" she sneered.

Her pale skin grew even more ashen, her expression hardening as she held her fan in a delicate yet commanding grip.

Clique?

My frown deepened, but I remained silent, my guard up.

FWISH!

She snapped her fan shut, covering the lower half of her face. Her voice was proud and cutting as she proclaimed,

"I am Elise of the Crescent Moon Sect, loyal servant of the Fourth Progenitor, King Louis Voiton."

Her eyes glinted ominously, the unmistakable mark of the Crescent Moon Sect—the Arced Moon Eyes—flashing in their depths. She moved her fan in a graceful crescent arc as she continued,

"And under his command, I will kill you."

I see...

I raised my hands to my chest, a mocking smile curling on my lips. "Come at me, bitch."

Elise's eyes narrowed at my taunt, her fan trembling slightly in her hand. Whether from anger or anticipation, I couldn't tell, but it didn't matter.

In an instant, she vanished.

Fast!

I barely had time to react as she reappeared inches from me, her fan slicing toward my neck.

CLANG!

My left wing shot up, deflecting the attack with a resounding metallic clang. The force of the blow sent vibrations down my spine, but I held my ground.

I countered with a jab aimed straight at her midsection, channeling energy into my strike.

WHAM!

She twisted away at the last second, avoiding the full impact, though the air pressure from the punch tore through her extravagant dress.

Elise's smirk faltered, replaced by a cold fury. She hissed, "You insolent little–"

BOOM!

A deafening explosion interrupted her threat, shaking the amphitheater.

I turned my head, heart racing, to see the burly man slam into a wall, leaving a crater in his wake. His battleaxe returned back to silvery dust as Williem stood over him, his halberd dripping with blood.

Williem's face was a mask of fury, his once charming demeanor now replaced by something far more primal. The flower growing from his left eye glowed faintly, its petals pulsing in time with his breaths.

My eyes widened slightly.

He's already overpowered the attacker...impressive, as expected of a Nightingale.

The burly man groaned, coughing up blood as he struggled to push himself off the ground.

"Stay down", Williem said coldly, his voice carrying an edge that sent shivers through me, "You're not worth the effort it would take to kill you properly."

"You... bastard...", the man spat, his voice faltering. But before he could rise, vines erupted from the stage floor, snaking around his arms and legs. They tightened with a sickening crack, pinning him in place.

Williem turned his attention to me, his gaze softening for a moment, "My lady, how are you holding up?"

"I'm fine", I replied, my voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through me, "Just dealing with some trash."

Elise's laughter cut through the air, sharp and mocking, "Trash, am I?"

She spread her arms wide, her fan glowing with a crimson light, "You underestimate me, fools."

The energy around her shifted, the air growing colder, as she took a strange stance.

"Enough of these games.", she sneered, "Let me show you the power of the Crescent Moon Sect."

FWAP!

Suddenly, she opened her fan and took a graceful step forward, without wasting any movements. Her fan streaked through the air and suddenly a crescent gust of wind was sent rushing in my direction.

Dancing Moon Technique!

Instantly, I dodged the flying arc, flying backwards to gain distance.

Just like the Nascent Nature Arts, the Dancing Moon Techniques is also a Saturation Technique owned by the elusive Crescent Moon Sect, a group of pure-blood vampires who occasionally clash with other cliques including the House of Atlantis and Ice Flower Sect.

The Dancing Moon Technique is said to be a millennium old Saturation Technique which is basically a set of peculiar movements called dances. These dances are said to be able to manipulate the World Energy in a user's body through a certain pattern, each dance has its own pattern and each pattern its own effect. They are all based on the different phases of the moon.

The first dance of the Dancing Moon Technique, Crescent Moon, allows the user to expel their Affinity as a semicircular arc. It could either be used as offensive or defensive.

Right now, this Elise used it for offense and since, it was made of a gust of wind, it meant that she wielded an affinity to Air.

HISS!

The crescent wind tore through the amphitheater, leaving a path of destruction in its wake. Chairs splintered and walls cracked under its power.

Such was the power of magic.

My wings flapped as I hovered mid-air.

"How about that, bitch?", Elise sneered, her mocking voice dripping with malice.

I scoffed.

Does she really think that I don't have an ace up my sleeve?

I brought my hands to my chest and suddenly began to weave hand signs.

The twelve signs and incantations.

Elise's eyes momentarily widened.

Williem's gaze sharpened, his expression tinged with awe.

A smirk played on my lips as I completed the spell. Almost instantly, countless daggers made of water materialized around me. The air thrummed with energy as the blades hovered, poised to strike.

Elise's mocking grin vanished, replaced by a mask of shock. She raised her fan, attempting to summon a defense.

Too late.

SWOOSH!

The daggers rained down on her with relentless precision, cutting through her gown and piercing her flesh. She screamed, a sound of pure agony, as the barrage overwhelmed her.

She collapsed to the ground, blood pooling beneath her. Her fan lay inches away, useless.

"H-how... dare... you?" she croaked, weakly reaching for her fan.

I stepped forward, water gathering above her chest, forming a deadly stake.

Elise's eyes widened in terror as she gazed at the tip of the stake. Her body trembled, utterly defeated.

Die.

Just as I prepared to strike, the door to the amphitheater creaked open. A man stepped in, his neutral expression betraying no emotion. He tipped his dirt-brown hat.

"Am Galter Droet", he announced, his voice calm yet firm.

"Hired surveyor."