Chapter 65 - Attack (11)

The control room was now in ruins. The building itself had been reduced to rubble, its walls shattered and its equipment destroyed.

The ground was littered with corpses—both instructors and Fantasians—their bodies broken and bloodied.

The air was thick with the scent of blood and smoke, the aftermath of a brutal battle.

One of the instructors, a woman missing both legs and an arm, was crawling away, her face streaked with tears and blood.

Her breaths came in ragged gasps, her body trembling with fear and pain. "Monster…" she muttered, her voice shaky. "He's a monster…"

But she didn't get far. A sword pierced through her chest from behind, the blade glinting in the dim light.

She let out a final, choked gasp before collapsing to the ground, lifeless.

The hooded figure who had stabbed her removed his hood, revealing Jero's bald head and face.

He wiped the blood from his sword and turned to the golden-haired elf, who stood nearby with Laura in his grasp.

Laura's arms were twisted and broken, her legs completely gone. Her face was pale, her breathing shallow, but her eyes still burned with defiance.

The elf currently held her by the neck, his crimson eyes cold and unfeeling.

Jero approached the golden-haired elf, his posture respectful as he bowed slightly. "Sir," he said, his voice calm and measured.

"The instructors have been dealt with. The control room is ours. Well, what's left of it."

The elf's crimson eyes flicked toward Jero, his expression stoic. "Good," he said, his voice smooth and dignified. "You've done well, Jero."

Jero nodded, his tone respectful. "Thank you, sir. What are your orders?"

The elf's gaze returned to Laura, his grip tightening slightly around her neck.

"Nathaniel Hunt and Theodore Hunt," he said, his voice cold. "According to our intel, they're at the pinnacle of Class One. Jero, you'll go after Nathan. Take a team with you."

He turned to another hooded figure, a tall, lean man with a bow slung across his back. "You," he said, his tone commanding. "Go after Theodore. Do not fail."

Jero's lips curled into a confident smirk. "As a Yellow Core, I can take Nathan out without a doubt," he said, his voice filled with assurance. "Rest assured, I will not fail."

The elf nodded, his expression unchanging. "Good. See to it that you don't."

Jero turned to his team, his voice booming as he yelled, "Let's go!"

The elf watched as Jero and his team disappeared into the forest, their movements swift and purposeful.

He then turned to the remaining hooded figures, his voice commanding. "The rest of you, head into the grounds. Kill the children of high society. And leave no survivors."

The hooded figures moved quickly, their movements precise as they prepared to carry out their orders.

The elf watched them go, his crimson eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

As the hooded figures dispersed, the elf turned his attention back to Laura. Her body was broken, but her spirit remained unbroken. She glared at him, her eyes filled with hatred.

The elf then felt something wet land on his face. He reached up, touching the spot, and realized it was spit. Laura had spat at him, her final act of defiance.

The elf laughed, a cold, mirthless sound. "Is that how it is?" he said, his voice dripping with mockery. "Is that all you have left? Spit and petty defiance?"

He tightened his grip around her neck, his fingers digging into her flesh. Laura's eyes widened, her breath hitching as she struggled against his hold. But it was no use.

With a sickening pop, the elf crushed her neck, the sound echoing through the ruined control room.

Blood sprayed from the wound, her head lolling to the side as her body went limp. The elf dropped her lifeless form to the ground, his expression unchanged.

"Pathetic," he muttered, wiping the blood from his hands.