Revenge

It was standard protocol: in case of emergency, all high-ranking personnel were to retreat to the secure room deep within the facility.

That was exactly where Vael was headed.

"Phase four is a go," he muttered under his breath.

He moved fast, navigating the chaos like a shadow. Screams echoed in the distance, the lab in full panic — just as he planned.

Then, fate served him his first target. A lone doctor, sprinting down the corridor, clutching a clipboard like it could save his life.

"Well, hello, Doctor. Fancy meeting you here," Vael called out, voice calm and cutting.

The man skidded to a halt, turning pale. "S-Subject 2467?!"

But Vael wasn't here to reminisce.

Without another word, he blinked forward. A flash of space mana, a sharp flicker — and his rapier pierced through the man's back, sliding cleanly between the ribs and into the heart.

Dr. Smith collapsed without even a scream.

Vael leaned over the body. "It's a shame I didn't get to play with you more, Doctor. But there's someone else… someone more deserving. Sleep tight."

He spit on the corpse and continued forward, steps silent, pace steady.

Four guards tried to block his path. They didn't last long. His movements were too fast, too refined — and his rapier, now laced with space mana, was too sharp.

Blood trailed behind him like a ribbon of fate.

At last, he stood before the safe room.

A solid metal door. No handle. No weakness.

For most, it was impenetrable.

But for Vael?

Just another blink.

Space twisted — and he reappeared inside.

Seven stunned faces turned toward him in shock and disbelief. Lab coats, armor, and tactical gear — the elite and the powerful of the facility. One man stood out, taking up half the room with his bulk.

Veltren.

He didn't need to speak. The way the man's beady eyes widened in horror was enough.

Vael raised his rapier.

"Found you, Veltren."

Sensing the danger, two figures rose instantly — one man, one woman.

The man was unmistakable: built like a fortress, clad in thick armor, a massive axe strapped across his back. Jackson.

The woman, however, was far more elusive. Masked from the nose down, she moved with the grace of a predator. Twin daggers rested at her sides. Her stance was light, balanced — made for speed and precision.

"A tank, an assassin," Vael thought, eyes scanning the room. "And a mage, if you count that sentient pile of meat. Deadly combo."

He acted without hesitation.

In a blur of warped space, he blinked toward the masked assassin, aiming to end the fight before it began.

But she moved. Fast. Too fast. She twisted with inhuman instinct, narrowly evading his thrust.

"Tsk…"

Pretending to pursue, Vael blinked again — this time behind Jackson.

The armored man barely had time to turn his head before Vael's rapier, glowing with condensed space mana, carved through his neck like butter. Blood sprayed across the walls. Jackson's body hit the floor with a metallic thud.

One down.

Vael took a cautious step back, analyzing the battlefield.

The assassin now stood ready — silent, unmoving, her presence melting into the dim light. The aura around her shifted like liquid shadow.

Behind her, the four scientists had huddled up near the wall, trembling. And then there was Veltren — red-faced, eyes bulging, too enraged to be afraid.

"Come on, Lucia!" he roared, practically foaming at the mouth. "Kill him already! Why do I even pay you if you can't get rid of one damn rat?!"

So that was her name.

Lucia didn't respond. Her eyes, narrowed and calm, remained locked on Vael.

Because she understood something the others didn't.

This wasn't just a prisoner with a grudge.

This was a predator. Cold. Calculated.

A monster in human skin.

Lucia activated her ability.

In an instant, shadows peeled away from her form, twisting into three identical clones. Each moved with the same speed, same grace, same murderous intent. They darted toward Vael, blades gleaming.

But Vael could sense space. And these fakes didn't bend it the way real bodies did.

He pretended to go for the leftmost one — then vanished.

With a short blink, he reappeared behind the real Lucia, blade already mid-swing—

A fireball exploded into his side.

The force sent him skidding across the metal floor, smoke rising from his charred ribs. The pain was immediate, unbearable.

"Fuck you, fatass," he spat, teeth clenched, eyes blazing with hatred.

Veltren smirked from behind the others, mana still sizzling in his palm.

Now taking that bloated mage into account, Vael adjusted his stance. His grip on the rapier tightened.

Lucia, realizing her clones were useless, dispelled them in an instant. Her aura shifted — then flared.

Full body reinforcement.

Her speed doubled in a blink.

She blurred forward, blades aiming for his neck.

Vael raised his rapier just in time, catching both daggers in a shower of sparks. The impact rattled his bones. She was fast now — too fast.

He prepared a counter, but another fireball screamed through the air.

This time, he was ready.

With a cold glint in his eye, Vael blinked mid-dodge — reappearing right beside Veltren, who barely had time to gasp before the rapier slashed.

A wet squelch. Blood sprayed.

Veltren shrieked as his left arm hit the floor, twitching.

Vael could've ended it there.

But that would've been merciful.

And mercy was no longer part of the equation.

The fat man collapsed, howling in agony, clutching the bleeding stump.

Now it was just him and Lucia.

Time to finish this.

While sharing this deadly dance, Vael realized something: he needed to end it now.

No more games.

In one smooth motion, he blinked in front of Lucia, feinting a thrust—

—then vanished again.

He reappeared behind her in a flash of warped space. His rapier struck true, driving clean through her back.

Lucia gasped, frozen, then slumped forward, collapsing onto the cold floor.

It was over.

Vael staggered, breath ragged. He had used far more mana than expected. His core felt hollow, strained. Still, he forced himself to stay upright.

No time to rest.

He turned toward the four cowering scientists, still pressed into the corner of the safe room. They were unarmed. Helpless.

And completely irrelevant.

Vael walked over and dispatched them without hesitation — four silent, efficient strikes.

No emotion. No hesitation.

Only Veltren remained.

The Marquis was slumped in a puddle of his own blood and fear, cradling the stump where his arm used to be. Tears streamed down his cheeks.

"P-please… mercy… spare me…" he whimpered, voice trembling.

Vael approached, step by step, until he was standing over him.

"Oh, don't worry," he said, voice low. "When I'm done with you, you'll regret ever saying that."

He crouched slightly, looking into Veltren's pale, sweating face.

"See, I had this whole thing planned out — a slow, beautiful unraveling of your life… out in the forest, where I had all the time in the world."

He sighed, stretching his sore shoulder.

"But turns out I'm running low on mana. Shame."

Veltren's eyes lit up, confused hope flickering in them. "R-really?"

Vael grinned.

"Good news, fatty. You won't suffer for five days…"

He leaned in, smile cold and vicious.

"…just five hours."

And so, for the next five hours, Vael had fun.

The kind of fun that only someone truly broken could understand — the cruel, cathartic release of a grudge too long held.

When it was finally over, there was barely anything left of the man who had once ruled over the lab.

Only silence.

And satisfaction.