(3rd Person POV)
Viper had assumed this would be easy—like cracking open a tightly sealed jar. Three women. One of them his former subordinate. How hard could it be?
He never expected the "actresses" to fight like trained assassins.
With a dark scowl behind his mask, Viper glanced toward the street where chaos had broken out. His nine men—each elite in their own right—were struggling.
Firfel ducked low, gracefully evading a spinning kick, then pivoted. She used the attacker's momentum against him and launched him into the air—
CRASH!
The man slammed through a glass storefront, shards flying in every direction. Screams rang out as civilians scattered in panic.
Meanwhile, Vivienne took a punch to the stomach—but didn't even flinch. Instead, she grabbed her attacker, bit into his shoulder with terrifying precision, and threw him over her back into a brick wall.
THUD!
The wall cracked. The man groaned.
Viper's eyes twitched.
'What are these fools doing? Nine against three, and they're still getting tossed like potatoes?!'
He clicked his tongue, trying to stay calm. The scent of roasted coffee beans from the nearby café wafted into his nose, soothing his rising irritation.
Breathe. Breathe. Stay composed.
Despite their embarrassing performance, his men had enough experience to adapt. They'd realized by now that brute force wasn't working. Instead, they had started rotating their attacks—one at a time—trying to exhaust the women through attrition.
Stalls were overturned. Storefronts shattered. The once-busy shopping street had become a battlefield. Onlookers had either fled or were peeking from windows, watching the brawl unfold with morbid curiosity.
Viper narrowed his eyes.
"I expected resistance from Sylwen," he muttered, "but I didn't think the 'pretty faces' would hit like trained warriors. I underestimated—"
A whisper interrupted him.
"Too late to regret now."
His senses flared.
He twisted instinctively—just in time. A clawed hand swiped past his cheek, grazing it. Blood trickled down.
"What the—!?"
He staggered back, locking eyes with his attacker.
It was Sylwen.
But that made no sense. He had just seen her fighting in the melee behind him.
'A clone? An illusion?'
He didn't get time to figure it out.
Sylwen dashed forward, her movements fluid as shadow. Her hands were wreathed in crimson-black energy, shaped like talons.
"Hmph. Focus, Viper. Or you'll bleed more than pride."
She struck again. He barely dodged—his body twisting unnaturally, spine flexing like a snake as he hissed, "Ssshhk—!"
His body began to slither along the pavement, his footwork turning into a serpentine dance. His true nature, hinted beneath the mask, was starting to show.
Viper wasn't just named after a snake.
He was one.
But Sylwen didn't care.
She lunged again. The air cracked.
And Viper realized:
This wasn't going to be an easy capture.
It was going to be a war.
"I didn't think taking you down would be this troublesome," Viper growled, his tone shifting from amused to deadly.
His pupils narrowed into razor-thin slits—reptilian and menacing. The whites of his eyes shimmered with a greenish hue, like venom swirling beneath the surface.
"It seems I'll have to take this fight seriously."
Sylwen tensed. The moment his eyes changed, her instincts screamed—Danger.
'Move. Now!'
She leapt to the side just as a strange phenomenon took place where she had stood. The damp, rain-kissed cobblestones instantly dried, hardened, and turned into lifeless gray stone—as if petrified by time itself.
Her eyes widened. 'That was close!'
"Well dodged," Viper said with a sigh of mock disappointment. "A shame, really. You would've made a magnificent statue."
"So the rumors were true…" Sylwen muttered, carefully keeping her gaze averted. "They called it the 'Cursed Eyes.' I thought it was just another story back in the Organization…"
Viper let out a soft chuckle. "Cursed Eyes? Heh. That's what the weak call it." He turned his gaze toward her again, his eyes gleaming. "This is a blessing."
Sylwen ducked, rolling to avoid the stare.
"You can't dodge me forever, Lala!" Viper's voice grew manic as he pursued her with relentless precision. "Sooner or later, you'll slip. And when you do… you'll become my perfect sculpture."
He moved with eerie calm, eyes locked, never blinking—like a predator hypnotized by its prey.
Sylwen gritted her teeth. 'I can't keep this up. I need to close the distance and disable those eyes.'
Without hesitation, she activated a movement skill.
«Shadow Travel»
Her form flickered and vanished into darkness.
But Viper didn't even flinch. "It's no use," he said smugly. "My eyes see through illusion, stealth, and all forms of trickery. Your stealth skill—nullified."
Just as he said that, Sylwen reappeared—her skill forcefully canceled. Her eyes widened.
"You see," Viper said with twisted pride, "these eyes don't just petrify—they suppress. They unravel spells, cancel techniques, erase effort. Your tricks are worthless."
Sylwen didn't reply.
She'd heard enough.
With a quick sequence of hand signs, she summoned a burst of smoke—dense and thick, obscuring vision completely.
Viper narrowed his eyes. "Hiding again? You know that won't—"
Then he paused.
From the smoke, multiple figures emerged—each identical to Sylwen.
'A clone technique!' His mind clicked.
He instinctively tried to stare them down, locking eyes one after another.
But the clones moved swiftly—dodging, ducking, dancing around his vision. None held still long enough for the petrification to trigger.
Now it was Viper who felt pressured.
'Damn it… which one is real?'
He turned, trying to focus—but they were everywhere.
Sylwen had flipped the game.
If this kept up, Viper would lose.
His cursed gaze kept Sylwen and her clones at bay, but it wasn't enough. One slip, one opening—and even a single Sylwen could ruin everything.
His breathing grew tense behind the mask.
'I'm being cornered… by her?'
"Hmph!" he scoffed. "You think you're the only one with trump cards?"
Viper's voice dropped, laced with venom.
"Don't get cocky, Lala. I've been holding back… but now, you've forced my hand."
The moment the words left his lips, the fabric of his robes writhed. From within the folds of his cloak and even his mask, venomous serpents slithered out—dozens, then hundreds, then thousands. They hissed and coiled around him like living armor.
"Go!" he shouted. "Sink your fangs into her—give her the gift of my venom!"
With a chorus of hisses, the snakes launched forward—like a wave of living projectiles.
Sylwen, hidden among her illusions, moved fast. But there were just too many. She ducked behind her clones, letting them take the brunt of the assault.
One by one, her illusions were bitten and burst into puffs of smoke—until only the real Sylwen remained.
"Tch…" She clicked her tongue. 'Damn it. That wiped them all out.'
She breathed harder now. This wasn't like her usual missions—simple, clean, under control. As a Hellsing agent, her operations always went smoothly. Even against the Great Knights of Wales, she hadn't struggled.
Back then, Arthur had been there.
But now?
She was on her own.
Snakes whipped past her, some crashing through brick walls and storefronts, others shattering windows with explosive force. Each strike was like a living bullet—sharp, fast, and vicious.
One serpent grazed her arm—only for its fangs to bounce harmlessly off her reinforced suit. She winced but kept moving.
The battlefield was in ruins. And Viper wasn't slowing down.
In the distance, she spotted Firfel and Vivienne, still locked in combat with the Skull operatives. They were holding on—but only barely.
Sylwen narrowed her eyes.
No more holding back.
She reached into her side pouch and pulled out what looked like a short, silver baton.
Viper squinted from across the rubble. "What's that? Planning to poke me to death with a stick?"
He sneered.
Until the stick lit up.
A white beam of glowing light erupted from one end with a sharp snap-hiss, humming with raw energy.
Viper froze. "Wait… I've seen that before—"
His eyes widened in recognition.
"That's… That's from that Hellfire movie! One of those Jedi swords!"
Sylwen twirled the blade in a clean arc and smirked. "Glad you've been watching our films. This saber's a limited prototype. And right now, it's your problem."
With a flash, she surged forward.
Snakes lunged to intercept her—but were sliced clean in half. In one smooth motion, Sylwen carved through a dozen serpents. Then two dozen more. Their bodies dropped, twitching and hissing, steam rising where they'd been severed.
Viper's confidence wavered. "That weapon… actually exists!?"
He gritted his teeth. No more games.
From his Spatial Ring, he summoned a dark, humming object—small and crude. It hovered above his palm, crackling with purple light.
It was a miniature skull, surrounded by a haze of destructive aura. The air around it dimmed. The ground beneath his feet cracked.
The light around him shifted—flickering like something unnatural had entered the battlefield.
Sylwen's eyes narrowed.
'What is that…?' Sylwen's instincts screamed as the object in Viper's palm pulsed with malevolent energy. The very air around it grew heavy—almost toxic.
Viper's tone shifted, losing its usual mockery. His voice dropped, calm and cold.
"See this skull?" he said, raising the small artifact into view. "This isn't just any trinket. It's a relic—handcrafted by the Skull Organization. Only high-ranking officers are allowed to possess it."
He looked down at it—almost reverently.
"I receive one every year. I've never used a single one… until now." His fingers clenched.
CRACK.
The skull shattered in his palm.
Instantly, its dark energy surged into him—rushing through his body like a tidal wave. The ground beneath his feet cracked. Purple veins of energy pulsed beneath his skin. His aura doubled… then tripled in pressure.
"You should feel honored, Lala," he growled, his voice warping into something monstrous and echoing. "I just used a priceless one-time artifact… for you."
The ground rumbled. Buildings shuddered. Glass trembled in windows. Dust rose in thick, floating clouds as if the earth itself recoiled from the power now radiating off him.
Sylwen's expression hardened, but even she felt a chill run down her spine.
She had fought powerful enemies before.
But this? This was different.
This was beyond her expectations.
Before she could react—Viper vanished.
Her eyes darted around—left, right, above.
"Too slow."
The voice came from behind her.
WHAM!
A fist drove into her stomach with terrifying force.
Sylwen's breath exploded from her lungs as her body was launched backward like a missile, crashing through a street lamp and slamming into a wall with a bone-rattling crack.
Dust and debris rained down.
The crowd that had been watching from windows screamed and ducked.