Chapter 725 - Fine
The aftermath of the battle settled into an uneasy silence, broken only by the murmurs of frightened civilians and the distant wail of approaching sirens. Irina stood beside Astron, her arms crossed tightly as she surveyed the scene with a mix of frustration and resignation. The operatives had escaped, leaving behind only the chaos and destruction they'd wrought within the museum.
A few minutes later, the heavy sound of boots and wheels reached their ears. A group of Hunters from the City Government and members of the local security team poured into the museum, their weapons drawn and their expressions tense. It was clear from the way they moved—hurried yet slightly disorganized—that they hadn't been prepared for what had transpired.
Irina's amber eyes narrowed as she turned to Astron. "Took them long enough," she muttered, her tone laced with irritation.
Astron, ever calm, simply nodded. "It's not surprising. The assailants were thorough in their preparations. This wasn't a random attack."
As the Hunters fanned out, one of them, a middle-aged man wearing the standard black-and-red armor of the City Bureau, approached Irina and Astron. His expression was grim, his brow furrowed as he took in the damage and the frightened civilians still huddled near the walls.
"I'm Captain Orwin," the man said, his voice steady despite the tension in his eyes. "We got the emergency alert, but…" He trailed off, glancing around the room. "It seems we arrived too late."
Irina crossed her arms tighter, her flames sparking faintly at her fingertips as her frustration boiled over. "You think?" she snapped, earning a sharp glance from Astron. She sighed, reigning in her temper as she continued, "What happened? Why did it take so long for anyone to show up?"
Orwin's jaw tightened, his shoulders sagging slightly as he responded. "The assailants sabotaged us. They disabled the museum's security team before the attack started. We didn't even get a distress call until it was too late. And when we tried to mobilize, we found several of our vehicles sabotaged. Our response was delayed while we secured alternate transport."
Irina's eyes widened slightly, her irritation giving way to reluctant understanding. "They sabotaged your vehicles too?"
The captain nodded grimly. "This city's not that big, and our resources are limited. We weren't prepared for something this coordinated. The operatives knew exactly what they were doing."
Astron's sharp purple eyes flicked toward the captain, his expression unreadable. "Were there casualties among your team?"
Orwin hesitated before nodding. "Several members of the museum's security staff were incapacitated, but they'll recover. As for our Hunters… we had a few injuries, but no fatalities, thankfully."
Irina frowned, her amber eyes scanning the faces of the arriving Hunters and security personnel. The weight of the situation settled heavily on her shoulders. The attack hadn't just been a random act of chaos—it had been meticulously planned, a deliberate strike against the city's limited defenses.
"They knew exactly how to exploit your weaknesses."
Captain Orwin's voice dropped, heavy with unease. "There's more," he said, glancing warily around the wreckage. "Some of our members are missing. We suspect they were working with the assailants."
Irina's flames flickered faintly at her fingertips again, her frustration rekindled. "So, you're saying this was an inside job? They knew exactly what they were doing because someone from your side helped them."
Orwin gave a grim nod. "It seems likely. Their coordination, the sabotage… none of this would have been possible without inside information. And considering how targeted this attack was—"
"They were after me," Irina cut in, her tone sharp.
Astron, standing silently beside her, turned his sharp purple gaze toward the captain. "She's right. Their tactics were too specific. The fire-magic suppression formation they used—it wasn't random. It was designed to counter Irina."
Irina clenched her fists, her frustration mingling with a faint sense of unease. "If they knew I'd be here, then this wasn't just an attack on the museum. It was a trap."
Captain Orwin's jaw tightened. "A trap that failed, thanks to both of you." He gestured to the wreckage, his voice softer but no less serious. "But now that your identities are exposed, you'll need to cooperate with the investigation. The city will want answers, and we'll need all the information you can give us."
Irina exchanged a glance with Astron. His expression remained calm, but she could sense the weight of the situation settling on his shoulders. "Fine," she said, her tone firm. "We'll cooperate. But if this was a trap, we need to find out who set it and why."
Astron nodded slightly, his gaze scanning the room as if already piecing together the answers.
The museum was in shambles. The central section, once adorned with intricate carvings and artifacts, was now a gaping void where a pillar had collapsed. Rubble and debris littered the floor, and the air still carried the faint tang of scorched mana.
Despite the destruction, the outcome was unexpectedly fortunate. Several civilians who had been caught near the falling debris spoke up during the investigation.
"I thought I was done for," one man said, his voice trembling. "But then… it was like something shielded us. The debris—it never hit us. It just stopped."
"Stopped?" Orwin repeated, his brow furrowing.
Another woman nodded, clutching her young daughter tightly. "Yes, it was like a barrier or… or some kind of force protected us. None of us were hurt, not seriously anyway. It was… miraculous."
Irina's sharp gaze flicked to Astron for a moment, but neither of them said a word.
The investigators continued their work, documenting the damage and collecting accounts from the survivors. While some civilians had sustained minor injuries—cuts and bruises from flying debris or the volatile mana resonances of the battle—there were no major casualties.
As the investigation continued, Captain Orwin moved aside to converse with a group of his team. Their hushed voices carried faintly over the wreckage, though the words were difficult to make out. The captain's expression shifted from grim focus to something closer to shock, then alarm. Finally, with a visible effort, he composed himself and turned back toward Irina and Astron.
He approached them quickly, clearing his throat awkwardly as he stopped a few paces away. "Cough… I apologize for the interruption," he began, his voice careful but tinged with hesitation. "But… by any chance, are you Irina Emberheart?"
Irina's amber eyes narrowed slightly, her lips curving into a smirk. "Took you long enough to figure that out," she said, her tone sharp with amusement.
Orwin's face reddened slightly, though he quickly masked it with a cough. "I—I see. That certainly explains their strategy… and why this attack was so meticulously planned."
Astron's sharp purple eyes flicked to the captain, his expression unreadable. "You've identified her, but that doesn't answer the real question. Who leaked her presence here to the assailants?"
Orwin's face tightened, and he shifted uncomfortably. "We're still working to determine that. But if they knew enough to plan this level of countermeasure, it's likely their informant had direct access to sensitive information. That narrows down the possibilities."
Irina crossed her arms, her smirk fading into a more serious expression. "Well, Captain, I suggest you figure it out quickly. If someone's selling information about me, they'll do it again. And next time, they might not stop at sabotaging a city's defenses."
Orwin nodded sharply. "Understood. We'll prioritize identifying the mole. In the meantime…" He hesitated again, his gaze shifting between Irina and Astron. "Given your identities and the nature of this attack, I'll need to report this to the Bureau's central office. They may send reinforcements or additional investigators."
Irina rolled her eyes, though her tone remained composed. "Do what you have to, Captain. Just don't expect us to sit around and wait for answers to fall into our laps."
Irina exhaled sharply, her frustration simmering beneath a carefully controlled expression. She had been through situations like this enough times to know how it would unfold. The investigation would drag on, the assailants would remain several steps ahead, and nothing truly substantial would come from it—not quickly, at least.
Crossing her arms, she leveled a piercing gaze at Captain Orwin. "We're done here," she said curtly. "We've given you enough to work with. My partner and I need rest, and frankly, I'm not in the mood to cooperate with a drawn-out investigation that won't yield results anytime soon."
Orwin blinked, momentarily caught off guard by her directness. He glanced at Astron, whose calm, unreadable expression did nothing to offer any reprieve. "Miss Emberheart," he began hesitantly, "I assure you, we're doing everything in our power—"
"And I'm sure you are," Irina cut him off, her tone firm. "But let's not pretend this isn't going to take weeks of chasing leads that might not even exist. The fact that they escaped this easily tells me they've prepared for every contingency, including this one."
Orwin's jaw tightened, but he nodded reluctantly, clearly aware of the truth in her words. "Very well," he said, his tone formal. "You're free to go. However, given the nature of this attack, we'd be willing to provide a security detail to ensure your safety while you're in the city."
Irina shook her head, already turning away. "Don't bother. Your resources are limited, and you need them here. Astron and I can handle ourselves."
Astron offered a small nod of agreement, his sharp purple eyes briefly meeting Orwin's before shifting toward the exit.
"Understood," Orwin said, his voice resigned. "But please, if you need assistance, don't hesitate to contact us."
Irina didn't respond, already striding toward the exit with Astron following silently at her side. The chaos of the museum faded behind them, replaced by the muted hum of the city streets as they stepped outside.
But before they could make it far, a sudden commotion erupted ahead of them. Irina's eyes narrowed as a crowd surged into view—reporters, their cameras flashing and microphones thrust forward as they clamored for attention.
"Miss Emberheart! Is it true you were the target of the attack?"
"Who were the assailants? Do you know why they were after you?"
"Was anyone seriously injured in the museum? Are you planning to retaliate?"
The barrage of questions was relentless, the reporters pushing closer with every step. Irina halted, her expression darkening as she realized there would be no easy way past them.
Astron's sharp gaze swept over the crowd, his posture steady but subtly shifting as if preparing for anything. "This is going to be inconvenient," he murmured quietly.
Irina rolled her eyes, her frustration simmering beneath the surface. "No kidding."
One reporter pushed forward, their voice rising above the others. "Miss Emberheart, do you believe this attack is connected to your family's prominence in the Federation? Were these political enemies?"
Irina's ember eyes glinted dangerously, but she managed to keep her tone calm. "No comment," she said firmly, her voice cutting through the clamor.
Chapter 726 - Fine (2)
The questions from the reporters grew more insistent, their voices rising into a cacophony that grated on Irina's already thin patience.
"Miss Emberheart, is it true your presence here endangered civilians?"
"Are the Emberheart family's rivals responsible for this?"
"What does this say about your ability to protect those around you?"
Irina's flames flickered faintly at her fingertips, her hazel eyes blazing with barely restrained anger. She took a step forward, her frustration threatening to boil over as the barrage of accusations and insinuations refused to relent.
"Enough," she snapped, her voice sharp and commanding, but the reporters only surged closer, sensing an opportunity.
Before she could unleash her temper further, Astron moved smoothly in front of her, his steps deliberate and his presence unmistakable. His tall frame and calm, steady demeanor were enough to make the reporters hesitate for a fraction of a second—but it was his face that truly froze them in their tracks.
Gone was the unremarkable, forgettable visage of his disguise. His true face, with its sharp jawline, piercing purple eyes, and an almost ethereal quality, was now fully visible. The crowd seemed to collectively draw a breath, stunned into brief silence.
One of the reporters, a younger woman, visibly blushed, her microphone trembling slightly in her hand. "Ah…" she stammered, her previously aggressive tone faltering. "W-who…?"
Astron's calm, unwavering gaze swept over the crowd, his sharp eyes cutting through their shock like a blade. When he spoke, his voice was low but carried an undeniable weight, silencing any murmurs that had begun to creep back into the crowd.
"Enough," he repeated, his tone firm yet controlled. "This is not the time for baseless speculation or harassment."
The reporters blinked, startled by the quiet authority in his voice.
"There are civilians recovering from a traumatic event
"There are civilians recovering from a traumatic event," Astron continued, his voice steady but carrying a quiet intensity that cut through the stunned silence. His sharp purple eyes swept over the reporters, each gaze held captive by his unwavering presence.
"The assailants who orchestrated this attack were vile," he said, his tone low but carrying an edge of restrained anger. "They had no regard for the innocent lives inside that museum. They sabotaged the security, targeted civilians, and created a situation where their escape mattered more than the lives they put at risk."
The reporters shifted uneasily, some lowering their microphones slightly as Astron's words struck a chord.
He took a deliberate step forward, his calm demeanor unshaken as he continued. "Whatever their motives may have been, it's crucial to distinguish the evil ones from the victims. The civilians inside weren't targets—they were collateral to the assailants, disposable in their eyes. Yet you're here, questioning the people who stood between them and death?"
Astron's gaze moved to the younger reporter, who flinched under the weight of his stare. "This isn't about politics or rivalries. This is about lives—people who were terrified, injured, and could have died. Miss Emberheart and I risked our lives to protect them. If you're so eager for answers, maybe you should ask the people we shielded from falling debris and unchecked magic why they're alive right now."
He paused, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as he pulled back his sleeve, revealing bruises along his arm. "Do you see this? These are from the fight. Both of us stood on the front lines against an enemy who came prepared to counter us. We didn't do this for fame or recognition. We did it because it was the right thing to do, because that's our job as Hunters—to protect."
The reporters murmured among themselves, their earlier fervor tempered by guilt and uncertainty.
Astron's voice softened, though the intensity in his gaze didn't waver. "So before you aim your questions at us, remember who the real enemies are. Direct your energy toward finding answers that matter—who orchestrated this, why they attacked, and how they can be stopped. That's your responsibility, not trying to vilify the people who stood in their way."
Irina watched Astron with a mixture of admiration and faint irritation as his calm, commanding voice rolled over the crowd of reporters. His sharp purple eyes carried a weight that seemed to silence even the most insistent questions, and the confidence in his tone left no room for doubt or speculation.
'This guy… He really is good at speaking to a camera,' she thought, her gaze lingering on his composed expression. She crossed her arms, feeling the faint ache in her shoulders and the persistent sting of her own exhaustion. The sparks of irritation she'd felt earlier ebbed as her thoughts turned inward.
'I've seen this before. Back when he was working with that other guild.' The memory came unbidden—a clip from an interview Astron had done just two weeks ago. Back then, he'd spoken with the same clarity, weaving his words in a way that left no cracks for critics to exploit. 'He was good then too—calm, precise. Like he already knew what they'd ask and how to answer.'
Her eyes narrowed slightly as she considered the similarities. 'And now he's doing the same thing. Handling this mess like it's just another job, not even letting them get close enough to needle him.' A flicker of admiration passed through her chest, quickly followed by a pang of irritation at herself for feeling it. 'I could do that too. But not now. Not when my body feels like it's been through a grinder.'
She shifted her weight, trying to ease the tension in her legs as the reporters fell quieter, their earlier fervor replaced by a hesitant, almost guilty silence. Astron's words had landed hard, cutting through the chaos with that maddening calm of his.
Irina sighed inwardly, her gaze dropping briefly to her own hands. The faint flickers of flames at her fingertips had dimmed, a sign of how drained she truly felt. 'I'm not in the mood for this. My head's pounding, my body's screaming at me to rest, and here he is, standing tall like none of it even touched him.'
Her eyes flicked back to him, taking in the way the light caught on his features, accentuating the faint bruises on his arms and the sheen of sweat along his jawline. For some inexplicable reason, he seemed almost shiny, as if the chaos around them had only highlighted his presence instead of dulling it.
'He really is something,' she thought begrudgingly, though the corner of her lips twitched as if wanting to smile. 'Always calm, always steady. It's annoying sometimes, but in moments like this… it's reassuring.'
As Astron finished speaking, the reporters murmured among themselves, their microphones slowly lowering as guilt and hesitation tempered their aggressive questions. Irina let out a slow breath, her frustration giving way to a tired sense of relief.
Astron turned slightly, his gaze meeting hers briefly. His expression was as unreadable as ever, but there was a faint flicker of something in his eyes—perhaps a silent check to see how she was holding up. Irina straightened instinctively, masking her fatigue with a sharp glare.
"I guess that's one way to shut them up," she muttered, her tone edged with mock exasperation.
"It worked, didn't it?" he replied evenly.
Irina rolled her eyes, but her irritation lacked its usual bite. 'Of course it worked. It always works when he does it.' She crossed her arms again, her fingers brushing against the faint bruises along her side. 'Fine, let him handle this. I'm too tired to care right now.'
As the reporters began to disperse, their questions quieter and less intrusive, Irina couldn't help but glance at Astron one last time. 'Shiny and annoying as ever,' she thought, a flicker of amusement softening her tired gaze. 'But I guess I'll let him have this one.'
Irina pushed open the doors of the Stellar Vine Inn, the most renowned 5-leaf hotel in the city, its lobby a gleaming expanse of polished stone, soft golden light, and tasteful floral arrangements. The faint scent of lavender lingered in the air, and the quiet murmur of conversation from well-dressed guests created a soothing background hum. She exhaled, feeling the tension in her shoulders ease slightly as they stepped inside.
Astron followed silently, his sharp gaze sweeping over the opulent surroundings. His calm demeanor betrayed no particular reaction, but Irina couldn't help but glance at him, curious if he'd make some snarky comment. He didn't, his focus remaining on the wide marble staircase ahead.
The concierge, a young man with immaculate posture and a polished smile, greeted them warmly. "Welcome back, Miss Emberheart. Your suite has been prepared as requested. Shall I send up refreshments?"
Irina shook her head, her voice firm but polite. "Not now. Just ensure we're not disturbed unless it's absolutely necessary."
The concierge inclined his head. "Of course. If you need anything, don't hesitate to call."
They made their way toward the private lift that led directly to the upper suites. As the doors slid shut, enclosing them in the quiet, polished space, Irina leaned against the wall, letting out a soft sigh. Her amber eyes flicked to Astron, who stood with his usual composed expression.
"This wasn't exactly how I imagined the day going," she muttered, crossing her arms as the lift began its smooth ascent.
Astron tilted his head slightly, his sharp purple eyes meeting hers briefly. "The museum tour and a good restaurant, right?"
Irina snorted softly, her lips curving into a faint smile. "Yeah, well, we got the museum part. Just not quite how I planned it." She glanced at him again, her voice softening. "And now I'm starving and exhausted. Typical, huh?"
The lift chimed softly as it reached their floor. They stepped out into a hallway lined with elegant gold-and-cream wallpaper and plush carpeting that muffled their footsteps. Irina led the way to their suite, a double-door entry adorned with intricate carvings of vines and flowers. She pushed the doors open, revealing the spacious interior.
The suite was luxurious but not ostentatious, designed with a refined elegance. Soft lighting illuminated the cream and gold tones of the walls, and the large windows offered a stunning view of the city skyline. A plush seating area with deep armchairs and a velvet sofa sat near a polished wooden table set with a bowl of fresh fruit. To one side, a door led to a bedroom with a massive, inviting bed draped in crisp, white linens. A faintly glowing mana crystal set in a gilded frame cast a soft, warm light over the entire space.
Irina let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, walking over to the seating area and dropping onto the sofa. She leaned her head back, closing her eyes for a moment. 'Finally… something decent after this chaotic day.'
Astron remained by the door, his gaze sweeping the room briefly before he set down his bag. "You went all out," he remarked, his tone calm but not without a trace of curiosity.
Irina opened one eye to look at him, her lips quirking into a faint smirk. "You expected less? Come on, Astron. You know me better than that."
He gave a slight nod, stepping farther into the room and sitting in one of the armchairs. "It's impressive," he admitted. "For a five-leaf."
Irina huffed softly. "Five-leaf is the best this city has, so don't look down on it too much." She straightened slightly, gesturing to the seating area. "And before you ask, no, I didn't pick this place just to show off. I wanted somewhere decent to rest after all the walking I thought we'd be doing."
Her smirk faded as her exhaustion caught up to her, and she leaned back again, closing her eyes. "Didn't think I'd need it because I'd be sore from fighting off operatives in a collapsing museum."
"At least it's over for now."
"For now..." She repeated and then turned her head. "Do you have something in mind?"
It was a question she asked, as she knew that Astron wouldn't let them go just like that.
"Indeed."
Chapter 727 - Fine (3)
Astron's calm gaze met Irina's as he leaned slightly forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "Indeed," he said evenly, his tone carrying that quiet weight that always made her listen. "The assailants were clear in their objective—they were after you. But this wasn't just about you personally. They were the first link in a much larger chain."
Irina's amber eyes narrowed slightly as she straightened in her seat. The exhaustion still tugged at her, but her curiosity and determination quickly overshadowed it. "You mean the ones who hired them."
Astron nodded. "Exactly. Operatives like these are pawns—useful, but expendable. They were given just enough information to complete their task, but most of them wouldn't know who's pulling the strings."
Irina leaned back again, crossing her arms as her mind began working through the implications. "But their leader… the one giving the orders. He'd know. Or at least have a better idea."
"That's what we need," Astron said, his sharp purple eyes glinting faintly in the soft mana light of the suite. "If we don't move quickly, they'll clean up loose ends. The leader, whoever they are, will likely be eliminated once they've served their purpose."
Irina frowned, as she also knew that.
"So….Do you know where they are?"
Therefore she decided to go directly into the topic. She has some suspicions about the one behind this attack, but she still needs to make sure.
Astron's sharp purple eyes held Irina's gaze for a moment before he leaned back in the chair. "I do," he said simply, his tone even, betraying nothing more than quiet confidence.
Irina's amber eyes narrowed further as she straightened in her seat. "You know who they are?" she pressed, her voice sharpening with curiosity and a hint of disbelief.
"I didn't say that."
Astron stated, his expression calm but unreadable.
Still, it was really surprising that he knew where they were.
"How?" she asked, leaning forward slightly, her brows furrowed. "How do you know?"
"Secret," he replied smoothly, his voice steady, offering no elaboration.
Irina's mouth opened, her words catching in her throat as irritation flared in her chest. She puffed her cheeks slightly in frustration before letting out a soft huff and leaning back in her seat. "Fine, keep your secrets," she muttered, crossing her arms as she glanced away.
Astron stood, his movements unhurried as he walked toward the floor-to-ceiling window that dominated one wall of the suite. The glass offered a breathtaking view of the city, its lights glittering like a sea of stars against the deepening night. Irina had made sure to book the most expensive room, one that offered a perfect vantage point from one of the highest floors.
He stopped just in front of the window, his sharp eyes scanning the cityscape below. The faint glow of mana-powered streetlights illuminated the streets, and the distant hum of the city drifted through the silence.
Irina's gaze followed him, her irritation simmering beneath the surface as she watched him stand there, as calm and composed as ever. 'This guy,' she thought bitterly, 'he doesn't even care how I feel. It's always about the mission, the objective, the next step. Does he ever stop to think about anything else?'
Before she could second-guess herself, Irina pushed herself up from the sofa, her steps quiet as she crossed the room. She hesitated for only a moment before wrapping her arms around Astron from behind, her chin resting lightly against his shoulder. The sudden contact made him stiffen slightly, though his posture quickly relaxed.
"What now?" he asked, his voice calm but tinged with faint curiosity.
"Nothing," she replied softly, her voice muffled against the fabric of his coat.
Astron tilted his head slightly, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. "What do you mean, nothing?"
"Do I need a reason?" she countered, her tone carrying a subtle edge of defiance.
He was silent for a moment, his sharp eyes studying the city beyond the glass. "….."
"Exactly," she murmured, tightening her arms around him slightly.
The two stood there in silence, the faint hum of the city below the only sound that filled the room. Irina closed her eyes, letting out a soft breath as she leaned against him.
She wasn't the type to look for knights in shining armor, nor did she ever want to feel dependent on someone else. Too many times, that trust had been broken. But in this moment, with Astron's steady presence anchoring her, she allowed herself to feel something she rarely let in—protected.
'I don't need this,' she thought, her lips pressing into a thin line. 'I'm fine on my own. I've always been fine on my own.'
But as the warmth of his presence steadied her, she couldn't deny the small voice whispering in the back of her mind. 'It's also good to feel like someone has your back.'
Astron shifted slightly, breaking the silence. "You're unusually quiet," he said, his voice soft but steady.
"Don't ruin it," she muttered, her tone half-joking, half-serious.
His lips twitched faintly, though he didn't say anything more. Irina stayed where she was, letting the moment stretch on, her grip on him firm but not overwhelming. For once, she allowed herself to take comfort in his presence.
*********
The small warehouse in the slight edge of the city was dimly lit, its corners cloaked in shadows that seemed to press in on the room's occupants. The air was thick with tension, the silence broken only by the occasional creak of the wooden beams above. Rovan Kael sat on a rickety chair, his head in his hands, his usually sharp eyes staring blankly at the floor.
Around him, the four executives of his team paced or leaned against the walls, their expressions varying between frustration and barely concealed fear. The mission had failed—a catastrophic failure that none of them had anticipated. They had been so sure of their plan, so certain of their superiority. But Irina Emberheart had turned the tide with devastating precision, and they had been forced to retreat in disarray.
One of the executives, a lean man with a scar running down his cheek, broke the silence. "We should've pulled back the moment the suppression formation started to collapse," he muttered, his voice low but filled with frustration. "We underestimated her. That was our mistake."
"Our mistake?" snapped another, a stocky woman with short-cropped hair. "No, you underestimated her. I told you all—our intel wasn't enough! We had no idea what kind of countermeasures she had prepared."
"Enough!" Rovan's voice cut through the bickering like a blade. He lifted his head, his face a mask of exhaustion and grim resolve. His sharp eyes, now tinged with desperation, locked onto the others. "Arguing about what went wrong changes nothing. The mission failed. We failed."
The executives fell silent, the weight of his words settling over them like a shroud. The realization of their situation was undeniable—failure in a mission of this magnitude was not just a setback. For operatives like them, it was a death sentence.
One of the younger executives, a man with a nervous twitch, shifted uneasily. "Rovan," he began, his voice hesitant, "what… what are we going to do? We can't go back to the higher-ups. They'll—"
"Kill us," Rovan finished flatly. His tone carried no fear, only the cold acceptance of reality. "Returning to them with this failure is signing our death warrants. You all know that."
The warehouse fell into silence once more, the gravity of their predicament hanging heavily in the air. The stocky woman broke the silence, her voice laced with anger. "So what's the plan, then? Are we just supposed to sit here and wait for them to find us?"
"No," Rovan said sharply, his mind already racing. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he spoke.
Rovan Kael leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, the flickering light of the single lantern casting sharp shadows across his face. His jaw tightened as he replayed the events of the disastrous mission in his mind, his thoughts narrowing in on one glaring, undeniable truth.
"It wasn't just Irina Emberheart," he muttered, his voice low but laced with bitterness. "That bastard… Astron, or whatever his name is. He was the real problem."
The four executives exchanged uneasy glances. They had all seen it—the way Astron had moved through the chaos of the fight, his precision, his speed. He wasn't supposed to be a threat. The intel had described him as a skilled but ultimately unremarkable combatant compared to the overwhelming force of Irina Emberheart.
But that intel had been dead wrong.
"That guy," Rovan continued, his voice growing harder, "wasn't just good. He was too good. Faster than any high-ranked hunter I've ever seen. He didn't even make mistakes—none. Every move he made was calculated, efficient, like he'd been trained for this his whole life."
"He fought like a ghost," the scarred man muttered, shaking his head. "One moment he was there, and the next, he was in the shadows, slipping past every formation we set up. It was like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands."
"Fighting against him was a nightmare," Rovan admitted, his tone heavy with frustration. "Even the masters couldn't keep up with him. He turned our entire plan into a joke."
The stocky woman folded her arms tightly across her chest, her expression grim. "And Irina? She was bad enough on her own. The second the suppression formation collapsed and her flames came back…" She trailed off, her voice tinged with fear. "But you're saying Astron was worse?"
Rovan met her gaze, his eyes hard. "Worse. Much worse. Irina Emberheart is dangerous, no doubt about it. But Astron… That guy's a monster. A bigger monster than she is, in my opinion."
The room fell silent again as the weight of his words settled over them. None of them wanted to admit it, but they had all seen the same thing. Astron wasn't just strong—he was something else entirely, something beyond what they had prepared for.
"It was like he didn't have any weaknesses at all," Rovan said, his voice low. "Every attack we threw at him, he countered. Every move we made, he predicted. It wasn't just skill—it was like he was toying with us."
The younger executive, still visibly shaken, finally spoke up. "Then what do we do? If Astron is really that strong, and he's by Irina Emberheart's side… there's no way we can take them down."
Rovan straightened, his gaze hard and unyielding as he looked at each of his subordinates in turn. "We don't," he said firmly. "We leave. We disappear. And we never cross Irina Emberheart or Astron again."
The scarred man frowned, his voice tinged with disbelief. "You're saying we give up? Just like that?"
"Yes," Rovan snapped, his tone brooking no argument. "Because now we know the truth. Irina alone was bad enough but with Astron at her side? It's suicide. No amount of preparation, no reinforcements, no tactics will work. They're untouchable."
The stocky woman sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping. "So, we run?"
"We run," Rovan confirmed, his voice resolute. "And we make sure no one knows where we've gone. We've already lost too much, and if we stay here, we're dead—whether it's by their hands or the higher-ups."
BOOM!
Suddenly an explosion occurred, covering their senses.
"Indeed…..You are dead."
Chapter 728 - Fine (4)
The room was filled with a quiet warmth, the kind of comfort that came after exhaustion had been tended to.
Irina sat on the edge of the plush sofa, idly twisting a lock of her fiery hair between her fingers. The faint scent of the meal they'd shared earlier still lingered in the air—a spread of richly seasoned dishes the hotel's five-leaf rating had guaranteed.
Her injuries, though still tender, had been tended to with expert precision by the hotel's private medic. A faint warmth spread through her muscles, courtesy of the salves and potions they'd used, but the deeper exhaustion of the day remained.
Astron sat in the armchair nearby, his sharp purple eyes scanning the pages of a small notebook he'd produced from his bag. His calm, focused expression had remained unchanged through their rest and recovery, a steady constant in the turbulence of the day.
Irina glanced at him, her amber eyes narrowing slightly as a thought formed in her mind. 'He's not even relaxing. Does he ever stop?'
Letting out a quiet sigh, she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "When are we going to leave?" she asked, her tone direct, though not without a tinge of weariness.
Astron's eyes flicked up from the notebook, meeting hers with that piercing intensity she'd come to expect. "Soon," he said simply, closing the notebook and setting it aside. "Are you ready?"
Irina's amber eyes narrowed with determination as she nodded, the lingering ache in her muscles overshadowed by the fiery energy building within her. "Yeah, I'm ready," she said, her tone steady but with an undercurrent of resolve. Her fingers tightened into fists, a faint flicker of flame dancing briefly along her knuckles. The memory of the attack burned in her mind, and the anger she'd suppressed during the chaos now simmered just below the surface.
Astron stood smoothly, his movements deliberate as he adjusted the strap of his bag. His sharp purple eyes flicked to her, studying her briefly before he gave a slight nod. Irina, fueled by the crackling energy of her frustration, pushed herself to her feet, her posture straight and purposeful. She glanced at him, her irritation bubbling to the forefront. "So? How are we going to find them? Do you have some secret tracker or something?"
Astron didn't reply immediately. Instead, he extended a hand toward her, his expression as calm and unreadable as ever. "Come."
Irina blinked, tilting her head slightly as she eyed his outstretched hand. "Hmm?" she muttered, caught off guard by the sudden gesture. "What are you—?"
"Just trust me," Astron said, his tone low but firm.
Still confused but curious, Irina hesitated for only a moment before placing her hand in his. His grip was steady, grounding, yet there was a subtle urgency in his actions that made her heart skip a beat. "Alright, but if this is some weird—"
Before she could finish her thought, Astron stepped closer, his free hand moving to her back as he pulled her into a firm embrace. Irina's eyes widened in surprise, her cheeks flushing as her fiery hair brushed against his coat. "Wh-What are you doing?" she stammered, her voice rising slightly in pitch.
Astron didn't answer. Instead, he turned his sharp gaze toward the window, his hold on her tightening just enough to ensure she wouldn't pull away. Irina barely had time to process what was happening before he took a step back—and then, with a sudden, fluid motion, leapt toward the open window.
"Wait—!" Irina gasped, her heart lurching as the glass gave way to the night air, the cold rush of wind engulfing them as they plunged downward. The city's glittering lights blurred around them, and for a brief, terrifying moment, all she could do was cling to him, her fiery energy flaring instinctively.
Astron's embrace remained steady, his calm presence anchoring her even as the wind roared past them. Irina's mind raced, but as the initial shock began to ebb, her voice returned. "Astron! What the hell was that?!"
"Hold on," he said simply, his voice carrying a strange calmness even amidst their rapid descent.
Before she could snap back at him, the sensation of falling abruptly shifted. A wave of mana pulsed through the air as Astron extended his hand, channeling energy into a spell.
As they fell through the cool night air, Irina felt a sudden tug, a faint strain on her body. Her amber eyes darted down, and she saw it—a thin, shimmering [Thread] of mana stretching from Astron's hand to the wall of the neighboring building. It pulsed faintly with his energy, taut and controlled, as it drew them toward their target. The tension in the thread snapped suddenly as Astron shifted his grip, swinging them upward with surprising force.
The city lights blurred around them as they arced gracefully through the air, the wind whipping past their faces. Irina's heart pounded, her fingers clutching Astron's coat tightly as the swing carried them higher. Before she could fully process the motion, their feet landed firmly on the flat surface of a nearby rooftop. The impact sent a faint tremor through her legs, but Astron remained steady, his stance as composed as ever.
Irina stumbled slightly, breathing heavily as she tried to steady herself. She pushed her fiery hair out of her face, her amber eyes wide with a mix of exhilaration and disbelief. "What the hell was that?!" she gasped, her voice louder than she intended.
Astron glanced at her, his expression calm and unflinching. "If we want to move without alerting people, it's better not to notify the hotel reception. There's a chance that information could be leaked."
Irina stared at him, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath. His explanation was logical, as always, but something about his tone—or maybe the way he'd held her—felt… off. Her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer, searching for something she couldn't quite define. "That's it?" she asked, her voice quieter now, her tone carrying a hint of skepticism.
Astron didn't answer immediately, his sharp purple eyes fixed on the city skyline. "It's the most practical option," he said evenly, but Irina couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it.
'There's another reason,' she thought, her lips pressing into a thin line. 'Something not entirely practical.' She didn't press him further, though; the moment felt too fleeting, too delicate to probe. Instead, she exhaled softly and shook her head, trying to shake off the lingering mix of emotions.
Without another word, Astron moved to the edge of the roof, glancing down at the streets below. Irina followed, her muscles still humming with residual energy from their abrupt escape. He gestured toward the next rooftop, and with a fluid leap, he cleared the gap effortlessly.
Irina inhaled sharply, then focused her mana. Flames flickered faintly around her feet as she channeled [Body Enhancement], reinforcing her strength and agility. She leapt after him, the faint glow of her flames propelling her forward. Her feet hit the next rooftop, the impact softened by her enhanced body.
They moved like this, jumping from building to building, the city spreading out beneath them like a glittering tapestry. Irina's breaths came in steady bursts as she kept pace with Astron, her enhanced body allowing her to match his movements.
'This is… fun?' she realized suddenly, her lips quirking into a faint smile as she landed on another rooftop. The exhilaration of leaping over the city, the wind rushing past her, and the sight of people below moving like tiny ants—it was a thrill unlike anything she'd felt before. 'I've flown with my flames before, but this… this is different.'
By the time they paused on another rooftop, the city stretched out endlessly before them, the lights twinkling like stars against the dark canvas of the night. Irina stood beside Astron, her chest heaving slightly but her amber eyes alight with energy.
"This is insane," she muttered, though there was a spark of excitement in her tone.
Astron glanced at her, his sharp eyes catching the faint amusement in hers. "You're keeping up," he said, almost as if it surprised him.
Irina smirked, crossing her arms as she leaned against a vent. "What, you didn't think I could? I'm not some fragile little princess."
"No," Astron replied, his voice calm but with a faint edge of humor. "You're not."
For a moment, the tension of the mission seemed to ease, replaced by the quiet exhilaration of the night. Then, without a word, Astron turned his gaze back to the horizon, his focus shifting to the task ahead. Irina followed his gaze, her smirk fading into a determined expression as the weight of their mission settled back into place.
"That is the place," Astron said, his voice low and steady, cutting through the stillness of the night.
Irina blinked, her amber eyes snapping to the large structure below them. The warehouse loomed in the shadows, its rusted metal siding reflecting faint streaks of moonlight. It sat on the outskirts of the city, the surrounding area eerily quiet, as if deliberately chosen for privacy.
'Wait… already?' Irina thought, realization dawning. They had been leaping and running across rooftops for what felt like only moments, the thrill of the journey having completely distracted her. 'I was planning to observe how he'd figure out the enemy's location! But I forgot!' She glanced at Astron, irritation mingling with surprise as her curiosity bubbled to the surface.
"Really?" she asked, her tone edged with disbelief as she gestured toward the warehouse.
"Yes," Astron replied, his sharp purple eyes locked on the building below. His expression was unreadable, but there was an unmistakable confidence in his tone.
Irina tilted her head slightly, studying the warehouse more closely. It was large and weathered, with faint signs of activity—a few crates stacked haphazardly near the entrance, a faint hum of machinery coming from within. The location felt deliberate, almost too perfect. She smirked, crossing her arms as a flicker of flame danced along her fingertips. "Then… can I go in?"
Astron turned his gaze to her, his expression calm but subtly appraising. "Are you asking, or are you telling me?"
She laughed softly, her smirk widening as she gestured toward the desolate surroundings. "Look at this place," she said, her tone dripping with confidence. "It's almost like they're inviting me in. No civilians around, no distractions… just enough space for me to let loose."
Astron gave a faint nod, his lips twitching slightly as if in amusement. "Of course," he said simply.
That was all the encouragement Irina needed. She took a step toward the edge of the rooftop, the faint glow of her flames illuminating her determined expression. The frustration she'd carried all day, the anger at having her plans ruined, and the thrill of their rooftop chase all coalesced into a fiery energy that burned in her chest.
Her smirk deepened as she glanced back at Astron. "Watch my back, will you?"
"..."
Without another word, Irina leapt from the rooftop, flames igniting around her as she descended toward the warehouse. The rush of wind whipped through her hair, but her focus remained sharp. Her feet hit the ground with a burst of fire, the force of her landing cracking the concrete beneath her as she straightened, her flames flickering around her like a living aura.
She glanced at the warehouse door, her smirk never wavering. 'Let's see how ready these guys really are.'
Behind her, Astron watched from above, his calm gaze fixed on the scene below. The hunt was far from over, but for now, it was Irina's turn to take the lead.
Chapter 729 - Interrogation
"Indeed…..You are dead."
BOOM!
The explosion rocked the small warehouse, shaking its flimsy walls and filling the space with smoke and debris. Rovan and the executives were thrown off balance, their hands instinctively reaching for their weapons as their ears rang from the force of the blast.
Through the smoke, a figure emerged, cloaked in an orange aura that shimmered like molten sunlight. Her red, short hair floated weightlessly, as if carried by an unseen wind, and flames coiled around her hands, licking the air with deadly intent.
"Irina Emberheart!" one of the executives choked out, his voice a mixture of disbelief and terror.
Irina's amber eyes burned with cold fury, her steps measured and deliberate as she advanced into the room. The firelight around her cast dancing shadows against the walls, amplifying her already commanding presence.
"How did you find us?" Rovan demanded, his voice steadier than he felt. His mind raced for an escape, for any chance to salvage the situation. But deep down, he already knew there was none.
Irina tilted her head slightly, her expression almost bored. "Did you really think you could run from me?" she asked, her voice low and cutting. "After what you tried to pull at the museum? You should've known better."
Her words sent a chill through the room, and Rovan clenched his jaw, his gaze darting toward his subordinates. We need time, he thought desperately. Anything to figure out a way out of this.
"Listen," the scarred man said quickly, stepping forward with his hands raised. "We—we didn't mean for things to escalate like that. It was just business. We were hired—"
"Business?" Irina interrupted, her voice laced with venom. Her hand shot forward, and a whip of fire lashed out, striking the ground inches from the man's feet. The flames roared upward, forming a wall that forced him back. "Do you think I care about your excuses?"
The stocky woman, her face pale, tried to edge toward the door, but Irina's sharp gaze snapped to her. With a flick of her wrist, another burst of fire erupted, cutting off the woman's escape route.
The stocky woman, her face pale, tried to edge toward the door, but Irina's sharp gaze snapped to her. With a flick of her wrist, another burst of fire erupted, cutting off the woman's escape route.
"You don't get to walk away from this," Irina said coldly, stepping further into the room. The flames surrounding her seemed to grow brighter, hotter, as if feeding on her anger. "Not after what you tried to do."
Rovan's hand moved to the hilt of his weapon, his mind racing. "You're making a mistake," he said, trying to keep his voice calm. "Killing us will only bring more trouble to your doorstep. We're not the real threat."
Irina laughed, a cold, mirthless sound that sent a shiver through the room. "Killing you isn't the goal. No, I want you alive—for now. But you will suffer."
Before anyone could react, Irina moved. She was a blur of motion, her flames surging forward in waves that seemed to consume the very air. The first executive tried to raise a defense, activating an artifact on his wrist, but the fire overwhelmed him, sending him crashing to the ground with a scream.
The stocky woman lunged for her weapon, but Irina was faster. A blast of fire struck her square in the chest, throwing her against the wall, where she crumpled in a heap, coughing and gasping for air.
Rovan drew his blade, a finely crafted weapon etched with anti-magic runes, and charged at Irina with a desperate cry. But she sidestepped him effortlessly, her movements fluid and precise. She spun, her hand blazing with fire, and slammed it into his back. The impact sent him sprawling, his weapon clattering uselessly to the ground.
"You're outmatched," Irina said, her voice as scorching as the flames around her. "You never stood a chance."
Just like that, she had unleashed her flames….
*******
One by one, the remaining executives fell. The scarred man tried to fight back, his dagger glinting in the firelight, but Irina disarmed him with ease, a jet of flame sending him sprawling. The younger executive, trembling, dropped to his knees, his hands raised in surrender, but even he was engulfed in a ring of fire that left him paralyzed with fear.
Within moments, the room was filled with the acrid smell of smoke and scorched wood. Fire roared around the warehouse, casting flickering shadows over the defeated figures of Rovan and his team. They lay scattered across the floor, bruised, burned, and utterly beaten.
Irina stood over them, her flames receding slightly but still crackling with energy. Her gaze swept across the room, her expression one of cold satisfaction.
The acrid smell of smoke and charred wood filled the air, a testament to the destruction she had unleashed. She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling as she surveyed her handiwork.
'Not bad,' she thought, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. Satisfaction bloomed in her chest, but it was fleeting. Her flames dimmed slightly, retreating to faint embers along her fingertips, but the fury in her hazel eyes hadn't abated. 'It's not enough. Not yet.'
Her gaze swept over the fallen figures. They were alive, but barely—groaning, coughing, and too battered to fight back. Rovan, the apparent leader whose name she had heard in the midst of the fight, lay slumped against a crate, his weapon knocked from his grip and his breaths labored. His eyes burned with defiance even as he winced in pain. The others weren't in much better shape: bruised, burned, and utterly beaten.
Irina's smirk faded as the weight of unanswered questions pressed down on her. 'There's no way they pulled this off without help. No way they had the resources or the foresight to predict I'd be here. Even my mother didn't know I'd be in this city, let alone the museum.'
Her thoughts sharpened, anger flaring anew as she stepped closer to Rovan. 'Someone's backing them. Someone with power, resources, and enough audacity to think they could take me down.'
Rovan's head tilted up slightly as she approached, his breathing ragged but his gaze defiant. Irina crouched in front of him, her flames flaring briefly in her palm before she snuffed them out with a flick of her fingers. She leaned in, her voice low and dangerous. "You've got one chance to make this easy for yourself, Rovan. Who's pulling your strings?"
Rovan's lips twisted into a pained smirk. "You think I'll just—"
Before he could finish, Irina's hand shot forward, her flames reigniting in a searing whip that licked dangerously close to his face. He flinched, his defiance faltering for the briefest moment.
"Wrong answer," Irina said coldly, her flames retreating but still pulsing in her palm. "You're not in a position to play games with me. You've already lost. Now, talk."
Rovan's jaw tightened, his eyes flicking to the others in the room as if searching for some kind of escape or support. But the sight of his incapacitated team offered no hope. He sighed, his defiance giving way to reluctant pragmatism. "Fine," he muttered, his voice hoarse. "But I don't know much."
"Try harder," Irina snapped, her flames surging again as she straightened to her full height. "Your equipment, your tactics—someone gave you the tools to come after me. And they knew exactly where I'd be. Who was it?"
Rovan swallowed hard, the heat from her flames forcing him to shield his face. "We… we were hired. A contact, anonymous. They never gave us their name, just a token—a sigil."
Irina's eyes narrowed. "A sigil?"
Rovan nodded weakly, fumbling in his coat pocket. He produced a small, scorched medallion, its surface engraved with an intricate design of flames encircling a crescent moon. Irina snatched it from his hand, her brows furrowing as she turned it over in her palm. The metal was warm to the touch, and a faint trace of mana pulsed within it.
"This," she said, her voice low. "What does it mean?"
"I don't know!" Rovan said quickly, fear creeping into his voice. "It was the only thing they left us. Instructions came through encrypted scrolls, and payments were deposited through untraceable accounts. We never met them face-to-face."
Irina's flames flared again, her frustration boiling over. "You're telling me you risked everything on the word of someone you've never met? How stupid are you?"
"We didn't have a choice!" Rovan protested, his voice cracking. "They knew too much about us—about me, my team. It wasn't a job we could refuse."
Irina stared down at him, her fury simmering as her thoughts raced. 'This wasn't just business for them. Whoever hired these idiots made sure they couldn't back out. But why go through all this trouble? What's their endgame?'
Her gaze swept over the other executives, her lips curling into a cold smirk as her flames danced brighter around her. "Looks like I'll have to try my luck with the rest of your friends," she said, her voice laced with menace.
One of the other executives, the younger one who had dropped to his knees earlier, whimpered audibly. "P-please," he stammered, his hands trembling as he raised them in surrender. "I'll tell you what I know! Just don't… don't burn me!"
Irina turned toward him, her smirk widening as she took a slow step closer. "Good," she said, her flames licking the air menacingly. "Because I'm not done yet."
And so, with her flames crackling like a predator circling its prey, Irina began her interrogation in earnest, determined to uncover the truth behind the attack—and to ensure that those who dared target her would regret it.
The acrid scent of smoke and scorched metal filled the air, punctuated by the whimpers and pleas of her battered captives. She leaned over the younger man, her flames licking dangerously close to his trembling hands.
"Start talking," she demanded, her voice low and cutting. "Who hired you? What else do you know?"
"I—I don't know their name!" he stammered, his eyes darting nervously between her and the still-burning embers near his feet. "They gave us instructions through encrypted scrolls. Payment was guaranteed, and there was no way to track them."
Irina narrowed her eyes, her flames flaring briefly before dimming again. "Pathetic," she muttered, turning to the stocky woman who still clutched her side from an earlier blow. Irina crouched in front of her, tilting her head slightly as she studied the woman's face.
"And you? Do you have anything more useful to say? Or are you as worthless as the rest of your team?"
The woman swallowed hard, her pale face streaked with soot. "We didn't have a choice," she rasped. "They knew where to find us, knew about our families. They said if we didn't do this, they'd—" She hesitated, her voice breaking.
"They'd what?" Irina snapped, her flames crackling impatiently.
"They'd kill them," the woman whispered, her eyes squeezing shut. "My son, my mother… they made it clear we couldn't say no."
She was left with no clues….
Or was she?
Chapter 730 - Interrogation (2)
Irina released him with a shove, her flames receding as she took a step back. She clenched her fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as frustration boiled within her. 'No name. No face. Just the sigil.' The same sigil she now carried in her pocket, a frustratingly ambiguous clue.
Her gaze swept the room one last time, falling on each battered figure in turn. Despite her best efforts, despite her flames and fury, she'd found nothing. No threads to follow. No names to chase. Only fear and uncertainty.
"This is useless," she muttered under her breath, her flames flickering out completely as she turned away. Her fiery hair settled against her back, no longer buoyed by the aura of her power. She clenched her jaw, trying to swallow the bitter taste of disappointment.
From the shadows near the warehouse entrance, Astron stepped forward, his calm presence a stark contrast to the destruction around them. His sharp purple eyes scanned the room before settling on Irina.
"Nothing?" he asked quietly, already knowing the answer.
Irina exhaled sharply, her shoulders stiffening. "Nothing," she admitted, her voice tight. "Whoever's behind this covered their tracks too well. All we've got is that damn sigil."
Astron stood silently for a moment, his sharp purple eyes fixed on Irina as she fumed, her shoulders tense and her fists clenched at her sides. Then, with a slow, deliberate shake of his head, he let out a faint sigh.
"Is this the first time you've done this?" he asked, his voice calm but carrying a weight that immediately caught her attention.
Irina turned to him, her amber eyes narrowing in irritation. "Done what?" she snapped, her tone edged with lingering frustration.
"Interrogated someone," Astron clarified, his gaze unwavering.
Irina blinked, her irritation faltering for a moment. "Well… yeah," she admitted, her voice defensive. "It's not like I go around interrogating people every day. I'm not some shadow operative. And as a member of the Emberheart family, I don't exactly need to do this kind of thing. Why does it matter?"
Astron nodded slightly, his expression as calm and unreadable as ever. "It shows."
Irina's eyes narrowed further, her frustration flaring anew. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means," Astron said evenly, taking a step closer to her, "they're lying to you."
Irina's mouth opened, but the retort on her tongue faltered as her mind raced to catch up. She stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. "What… what are you talking about? How can you even tell?"
Astron gestured subtly toward the group of battered captives sprawled across the warehouse floor. "Their body language, their responses, the inconsistencies. It's obvious they're just lying to you."
Astron's sharp gaze remained fixed on the captives, his calm demeanor unshaken despite the destruction surrounding them. "Irina," he began, his tone measured but firm, "operatives like these don't walk into situations like this without contingencies. Before their operations, they establish a network of misleading information, specifically designed to misdirect anyone inexperienced in extracting the truth."
Irina frowned, her frustration giving way to a flicker of curiosity. "Misleading information? You're saying they planned to lie to me from the start?"
"Exactly," Astron replied, stepping closer to the group. "The moment they realized you weren't experienced in interrogation, they knew they could play you. They've been feeding you pre-crafted scenarios, designed to distract and confuse."
He crouched slightly, his gray eyes narrowing as he pointed to the younger man who had trembled and begged for mercy. "Him, for instance. Notice how his trembling increased when you asked for details about the sigil, but not when you threatened his life? That's a calculated reaction. He's trying to seem more terrified of you than he is of revealing the truth, which means he's hiding something."
The younger man's eyes widened, his breathing quickening as he stammered, "I-I'm not lying! I swear!"
Astron ignored him, his gaze shifting to the stocky woman. "And her. She claimed they threatened her family, but she hesitated when mentioning her son and mother. That hesitation wasn't fear—it was an adjustment. She was trying to remember the cover story she'd been given."
The woman's face paled further, and her lips tightened as she glanced nervously at Rovan.
Astron straightened, his focus now on Rovan, who had remained silent, his jaw clenched tightly. "And you," Astron said coldly. "You've been the quietest of the group, trying to gauge when to intervene. That's because you're the leader, and you know that if you break, the rest will follow."
Rovan's eyes flashed with defiance, but there was a subtle shift in his posture—a tightening of his jaw, a twitch in his hand—that didn't escape Astron's notice. Astron's gaze sharpened further, and he took a deliberate step forward. "You've all been lying. But the truth won't stay hidden for long."
Suddenly, Rovan's eyes widened, and his head jerked forward slightly. Astron reacted instantly, moving faster than anyone in the room could register. His hand shot out, gripping Rovan's jaw and forcing it open. With a sharp tug, Astron pulled a small, silver capsule from the man's mouth, holding it up for Irina to see.
"Poison capsule," Astron said calmly, his voice carrying an edge of cold precision. "Standard protocol for operatives who know too much."
The other captives reacted in panic, their eyes darting toward each other as two more of them moved to bite down on their own capsules. But Astron was already in motion. His hands blurred as he intercepted them, prying their mouths open with practiced ease and retrieving the capsules before they could act. He tossed the capsules onto the ground, crushing them underfoot with a deliberate motion.
The room fell into an eerie silence, broken only by the captives' labored breathing. Rovan glared at Astron, his expression a mix of fear and rage. "You… you're not normal," he spat, his voice hoarse.
Astron held Rovan's furious gaze, his sharp purple eyes unwavering as he spoke with chilling precision. "The term 'normal' is not something the likes of you can use," he said coldly, his tone laced with disdain. He stepped back slightly, tossing the crushed remnants of the poison capsules aside. "To make people like you talk, you need more than threats or brute force. You need precision."
He turned to Irina, his gaze softening ever so slightly. "Do you want to watch what happens next? It won't be a sight that… normal people enjoy."
Irina's amber eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms, her flames flickering faintly around her fingertips. "I want to see," she said firmly. "And I want to participate."
Astron tilted his head slightly, studying her with a quiet intensity. "Are you sure? What we're about to do is different from any fight you've had before. This isn't a battle of strength or flames. It's a battle of will."
"I've seen enough in my life not to flinch at something like this," Irina replied, her tone steady. Her fiery gaze didn't waver as she stepped closer. "If it means getting answers, I'm in. I'm not fragile, Astron."
A faint curl tugged at the corner of his lips, though his expression remained otherwise unreadable. "Don't blame me later for not asking."
Without further warning, Astron moved with deliberate precision, crouching in front of Rovan. His presence seemed to darken, his calm demeanor taking on an unsettling edge that made the air feel heavier. The other captives froze, their eyes wide as they watched him with a mixture of fear and dread.
Astron spoke softly, his voice calm but carrying an undeniable weight. "Here's how this works. You talk, and things stay simple. You don't…" He let the words hang in the air, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly. "And we find other ways."
Rovan sneered, though there was a flicker of unease in his gaze. "You think you scare me?"
Astron's smirk returned, colder this time. "Not yet."
He raised his hand, a faint pulse of mana coalescing around his fingers. Mana twisted unnaturally around him, curling and coiling like living tendrils. The room seemed to darken further, the air growing colder as the mana had taken a physical "laser" form, expanding, brushing against the captives like icy fingers.
Irina watched with a mixture of fascination and unease.
The light wasn't like her flames—it was cold, almost ethereal, with a deadly precision that seemed to defy the natural order. It brushed past the captives, leaving faint trails of frost in its wake, the temperature in the room plummeting with every second.
Irina's amber eyes narrowed as she watched, her gaze fixated on the strange energy. 'The mana?' she thought, a flicker of confusion crossing her mind. 'It's similar to what I can do with compressed fire, but… this isn't a basic heat. It's rather space-ish?'
She pushed the thought aside as Astron began, his voice cutting through the oppressive silence. "Let's start simple," he said, his tone calm but unyielding. He crouched lower, his piercing purple eyes locking onto Rovan's with an intensity that made even Irina take notice. "Who gave you the sigil?"
Rovan sneered, his earlier defiance returning as he glared up at Astron. "I already told you, I don't—"
Before he could finish, one of the blue mana tendrils shot forward, stopping just short of his neck. The beam hissed faintly, releasing a puff of cold air that made Rovan flinch despite himself.
"Try again," Astron said, his voice steady. "This time, without wasting my time."
Irina crossed her arms, her fiery hair glowing faintly in the dim light as she leaned against the wall, observing the scene. Her frustration had given way to a tense curiosity as she watched Astron work. There was something unsettling about the way he moved—calm, deliberate, and entirely without hesitation.
Rovan's sneer faltered as the tendril pressed closer, the frost creeping along his skin. "I-I told you everything I know!" he stammered, his bravado crumbling under the cold precision of Astron's gaze.
"You're lying," Astron said simply, his voice devoid of emotion. "And you're bad at it."
Another tendril lashed out, striking the ground inches from Rovan's knee. The floor cracked under the impact, a spiderweb of frost spreading outward. The sound echoed ominously through the warehouse, drawing a gasp from one of the other captives.
Irina shifted slightly, her amber eyes narrowing as she watched Astron.
'This…..He really...'
It was the first time she was seeing such a side of him, and in fact, it was scary….
********
"It was Hawkins! Hawkins…..They were our employer…."
And they finally got the answer that they were looking for…..
Chapter 731 - Interrogation (3)
Astron stood, the faint blue glow of his mana tendrils retracting into his palm as Rovan slumped against the wall, trembling. His confession hung in the air like a crack of thunder.
"Hawkins!" Irina's voice cut through the oppressive tension, a sharp, fiery eruption of anger. She pushed off the wall, her fists clenched at her sides, flames flickering faintly along her fingertips. "Those bastards dare!"
Rovan flinched, his face pale and sweat-slicked as Irina's fiery presence bore down on him. She stepped forward, her amber eyes blazing with fury, her breath quickening as the weight of the revelation settled on her. Images flashed through her mind—Jeremy's mocking smirk, his venomous threats, and the inferno she had left in her wake when she had branded him.
Her voice dropped to a low growl, more dangerous than her earlier shout. "First Jeremy, now this? They've grown bold, thinking they can send their dogs after me."
Astron said nothing, his sharp purple eyes observing her closely. He crossed his arms, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to Irina's simmering rage. He was assessing her reaction, though she barely noticed his presence. Her thoughts were consumed by one single conclusion.
'They're declaring war,' she realized, her anger coiling tighter, a smoldering inferno within her chest. 'The audacity to strike against the Emberheart family, against me—do they think we'll stand for this?'
She turned her gaze back to Rovan, who was shaking, his earlier defiance completely obliterated. Irina's voice was cold, a blade sharpened by fury. "You made a mistake, aligning yourself with Hawkins. Do you even realize the kind of wrath you've invited?"
"P-please…" Rovan stammered, his breath hitching as Irina's flames flared brighter, casting menacing shadows along the walls. "I-I didn't have a choice! They—they forced us into this!"
"Spare me your excuses," she snapped, the heat in her voice matching the fire curling along her hands. "You knew what you were doing when you agreed to this. You thought you could walk away unscathed."
Irina's mind raced as her flames flickered and danced, her thoughts turning to the Hawkins family. Jeremy had been a means to an end for them, nothing more than a tool in their endless pursuit of power. But now, with this bold attack, they had shown their hand—and it wasn't just a message to her. It was a challenge to her family, to everything the Emberheart name represented.
"They dared to send assassins for me?" she muttered under her breath, her voice trembling with barely contained rage. "They dare think they can touch an Emberheart and get away with it?"
Irina's flames surged, licking along her arms and crackling with raw, untamed power. Her amber eyes gleamed with fury, the reflection of her own fire burning in their depths. She raised her hand slowly, the air around her shimmering with heat. The captives recoiled instinctively, their terror palpable.
"You dared to come after me," she hissed, her voice low and dangerous, carrying the weight of her wrath. "And now, you'll learn what it means to provoke an Emberheart."
The fire swirled in her palm, a blazing orb of destruction that cast flickering shadows across the warehouse walls. For a moment, the room seemed frozen in time, the only movement the hypnotic dance of her flames.
"W-wait!" Rovan choked out, his voice cracking as he scrambled backward. "P-please, I told you everything! I—"
His plea was cut off by a sudden rush of heat as Irina's flames erupted, engulfing him in an instant. The inferno roared, consuming his cries and filling the room with the acrid scent of burning flesh. The other captives screamed, their voices rising in a desperate cacophony as they tried to claw away from the firestorm.
But Irina's fury was unrelenting.
She turned her burning gaze to the rest of them, her flames growing brighter, hotter. With a flick of her wrist, tendrils of fire shot forward, coiling around the remaining captives like serpents. They thrashed and wailed, but the flames held fast, tightening their grip as they seared away flesh and hope alike.
Astron stood silently, his sharp purple eyes fixed on Irina. He didn't move to stop her, didn't utter a word. There was no judgment in his gaze, no pity for the burning men, only a cold understanding of the resolve that drove her.
Irina's heart pounded as she watched the captives writhe, their figures silhouetted against the blinding inferno. There was no remorse in her expression, no hesitation. To her, this was justice—not just for the insult to her family, but for the audacity of the Hawkins to think they could strike without consequence.
As the flames consumed the last of their screams, the warehouse fell silent, save for the crackling of embers and the faint groaning of the structure around them. Irina lowered her hand, the fire receding into faint flickers that danced along her fingertips before vanishing entirely. The once-imposing figures of Rovan and his subordinates were now little more than charred remains, their forms unrecognizable.
The oppressive silence of the warehouse settled like ash, the faint crackle of embers the only sound breaking the void. Irina stood amidst the destruction, her amber eyes dimming as the rush of fury ebbed away, leaving a hollow ache in its place. Her flames, once wild and consuming, now flickered faintly along her fingertips before extinguishing entirely.
The charred remains of Rovan and his subordinates lay crumpled and unrecognizable, their earlier defiance erased by the unforgiving wrath of her fire. Irina stared at the scene for a moment longer, her expression unreadable.
'They deserved worse,' she thought, but the conviction that had fueled her moments ago felt distant now, replaced by a creeping emptiness. 'But… it still doesn't feel good.'
Astron's quiet voice broke through her thoughts, steady and calm. "No hesitation."
Irina didn't respond immediately. She closed her eyes, exhaling slowly as she turned her back on the charred bodies. "None," she said finally, her voice flat.
Astron stepped closer, his sharp purple eyes studying her with that unnervingly calm intensity. "When did you first do it?" he asked, his tone more curious than prying.
Irina glanced at him, her expression distant, as if recalling something from another lifetime. "Ten," she said quietly. "I was ten."
Astron nodded slightly, as though the answer confirmed something he already suspected. "You were quite young."
"Yeah," she muttered, her voice heavy. "But I didn't have much of a choice, did I?"
She crossed her arms, her fiery hair falling into her face as she stared at the ground. The weight of the memories pressed against her chest, though she didn't speak them aloud. The first time she'd used her flames to kill—it wasn't justice or even vengeance. It had been survival. And no matter how many times she'd told herself it was necessary, the emptiness always followed.
Astron remained silent, his presence steady but unobtrusive. He didn't press her for details, didn't pry into wounds she wasn't ready to expose. He simply waited, his sharp gaze unwavering.
Irina's fists clenched at her sides as she exhaled sharply, her breath shaky. She turned suddenly, her amber eyes meeting his. Before she could overthink it, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face against his chest.
Astron stiffened slightly at the unexpected contact, his sharp eyes widening for a brief moment before his posture softened. He didn't speak, didn't ask for an explanation. He simply stood there, his arms resting lightly at his sides as Irina held on.
"For no reason again…."
"For no reason again…" she muttered against him, her voice muffled. "I just… want to."
Irina tightened her grip slightly, her fiery hair brushing against his coat as she exhaled slowly. The emptiness inside her didn't vanish, but the warmth of his presence steadied her in a way she couldn't quite explain.
*********
When we reached the hotel, Irina went straight to the bathroom, muttering something about needing a shower. The door clicked shut behind her, and the sound of running water followed soon after, the steady rhythm filling the room.
I leaned back against the wall, crossing my arms as my mind turned inward.
'Hawkins Family... I guess the Hawkins plot has started.'
In the game, the Hawkins plotline was the centerpiece of Irina's story if the player chose to side with her over Seraphine. It was a tangled web of political maneuvering, personal vendettas, and escalating violence between the Hawkins and the Emberheart families. In the game's timeline, it wouldn't have started this early. The player would usually encounter it later after Irina's character arc had developed more depth. But now, things were already shifting.
I frowned, recalling the details. In the game, the Hawkins had played a dangerous game, baiting the Emberhearts into conflict while building alliances in the shadows. Their eventual clash had devastating consequences, leaving both families weakened and vulnerable to external threats.
'If it had followed the same trajectory, the repercussions could have been severe,' I thought, my fingers tapping lightly against my arm. 'But this time, since it started much earlier….it is much harder to predict….'
The steady rhythm of the shower filled the room, blending with the quiet hum of my thoughts. I leaned against the wall, my arms crossed, and let my mind sift through the details.
In the game, Ethan had been dragged into this mess during a seemingly mundane outing with Irina. An ambush, an escalation, and then the Emberheart-Hawkins feud erupted in earnest. The attack had been the catalyst for a chain of events that embroiled Ethan and the player directly in the feud. It forced the player to make decisions that would shape not only Irina's character arc but also the broader political landscape of the story.
But this wasn't the game. Things were happening faster, and the demons were already becoming more active. The tension was palpable, and with both familial and external threats mounting, the dangers were far greater than what had been written.
Yet, there was something else—something that didn't sit right. Irina had mentioned it herself: she hadn't shared their route with anyone. We had disguised ourselves, taken precautions, and ensured they weren't followed. By all accounts, the ambush should have been impossible. And yet, it happened.
'There's no way this was just chance,' I thought, my fingers tapping lightly against my arm. 'Even with the Hawkins' power of [Foresight], they would need information to narrow down our movements. Their ability isn't omniscient. It's limited by the information they have at hand.'
The pieces didn't align. The Hawkins Family was meticulous, but this kind of precision required more than just their usual reach. For them to find us under those conditions, there had to be a leak—someone who knew our movements and provided the necessary information. It wasn't just the fact that we were found; it was how easily they had pinpointed us despite our precautions.
'I see….'
And for that, if it was 'her' and 'her methods' then that would explain everything.
'What a cruel mother….'
Really…..
Chapter 732 - Interrogation (4)
One of the offices – Emberheart Estate
The room was dim, lit only by the faint flicker of the flames in the grand hearth. The warmth did little to soften the atmosphere, which felt heavy with unspoken intent. The Matriarch of the Emberheart family sat at her desk, her fingers steepled, her crimson robes glowing faintly like embers in the dim light. The papers before her lay untouched, her sharp eyes fixed instead on the dancing flames in the fireplace.
Esme entered quietly, her steps measured, her expression calm but with a trace of concern visible in her furrowed brow. She bowed her head slightly as she approached, waiting for acknowledgment before speaking.
"Matriarch," Esme began, her voice as steady as ever, though her words carried a weight of uncertainty. "Will it really be okay? The measures you've set in motion—they are harsh, even for Young Lady. You've always tested her, but this... this feels different."
The Matriarch did not respond immediately, her gaze lingering on the fire as though it held the answer to some unspoken question. When she finally spoke, her voice was calm, deliberate, and laced with the authority that defined her every word.
"Esme," she began, her tone cool and measured, "a lion raised in captivity may grow strong, but it will never be prepared for the true wilderness. Irina has chosen her own path, one far removed from the controlled environment I meticulously crafted for her. She wishes to make her own decisions, to walk freely as she claims. But freedom is not without its cost."
Esme's lips pressed into a thin line. "But Matriarch, Irina has already shown strength. Surely, she has proven herself capable?"
The Matriarch's gaze shifted to Esme, her sharp amber eyes glinting with a mixture of curiosity and resolve. "Strength is not simply the ability to act, Esme. It is the wisdom to temper that action, the foresight to see beyond the immediate, and the resilience to endure the consequences. Irina is strong, yes. But she lacks understanding of the depth and scope of the game she has stepped into."
The Matriarch's sharp gaze softened briefly, an almost imperceptible flicker of something resembling regret. But as she raised her hand, the faint crimson glow surrounding her fingertips chased the moment away. With a graceful motion, she waved toward the hearth.
The fire surged. Its light expanded, casting long, dancing shadows against the dimly lit walls. As the flames roared to life, the office was illuminated, revealing a figure suspended from the ceiling.
The young woman hung limply, her wrists bound above her head by enchanted chains that glowed faintly with Emberheart mana. Her body was a map of pain—countless burn marks marred her skin, and fresh welts painted her arms and legs. The tattered remains of her clothes clung to her frame, offering no protection from the cool draft of the room. Her head lolled forward, and her matted hair clung to her sweat-slick face. Though her lips were bound with a gag, her terrified, hollow eyes darted toward the Matriarch as the room came alive with the fire's glow.
Esme's breath hitched, but she maintained her composure. "Matriarch," she said quietly, a faint note of unease slipping into her tone. "Is this truly necessary? She has already suffered greatly."
The Matriarch's response was as cold as the flickering flames were hot. "It is not the suffering that matters, Esme. It is the lesson learned from it. And right now, this girl's purpose is to teach."
With that, the Matriarch extended her hand once more. A single ember floated toward the young woman, hovering just beneath her fingertips. The girl's body tensed as though sensing the imminent agony, her muffled cries turning frantic.
The ember descended, slipping beneath the nail of her forefinger. A sharp hiss sounded, followed by the smell of seared flesh. The girl's muffled screams tore through the room, her back arching as her entire body convulsed in pain.
The Matriarch's expression did not change. Her gaze remained steady, cold, and calculating as the ember lingered for a few agonizing seconds before she extinguished it with a flick of her wrist. The girl slumped forward again, her body trembling uncontrollably.
"Esme," the Matriarch began, her tone still calm but carrying an edge of warning, "Irina believes she understands control. She believes her fire is a tool she wields effortlessly, that her strength is enough to protect her from the consequences of her actions."
Esme inclined her head slightly, though her gaze flickered toward the young woman. "The Young Lady has shown extraordinary resolve, Matriarch. Surely—"
"Resolve is not enough," the Matriarch interjected, her voice sharp and commanding. She turned toward Esme, her amber eyes burning with intensity. "There is no information in this world that can remain hidden forever. Not from enemies. Not from allies. Not even from the Emberhearts."
She gestured toward the young woman with a flick of her fingers. "This one thought she could deceive me. She believed that her affiliations, her resources, and her secrets would protect her. But look where that belief has brought her."
The Matriarch leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Even Irina must understand this: there is always a possibility of a leak. No matter how well-guarded her plans, how meticulous her preparations, she is not infallible. She must learn that the Emberheart name does not grant immunity from the world's cruelties. It only makes the stakes higher."
The Matriarch's voice cut through the heavy silence, her tone colder than the Emberheart flames that illuminated the room. "And now," she said, her eyes narrowing as they fixed on the trembling form of the suspended young woman, "Irina has chosen to take that boy into her fold. To trust him, to shield him. But trust is a dangerous commodity, Esme. One must be certain it is earned."
She stood, the folds of her crimson robe catching the light as the faint flicker of the fire reflected the power she wielded. "This is not only Irina's lesson but his as well. That boy… Astron. He is hiding far more than he reveals." Her voice carried a note of intrigue, a rare softness betraying the depth of her thoughts. "I do not acknowledge him lightly, Esme. I dislike that he has forced me to even consider the possibility… but I cannot deny it. He is not a normal child."
Esme watched her Matriarch carefully, her expression unreadable though her hands were folded neatly before her. "And you intend to test him further?"
"Of course," the Matriarch replied, her tone leaving no room for doubt. "It is not enough to see him act. It is how he acts when there is no safety net—no shield but his own will. Irina's attachment to him will drive her decisions, and if he is to remain by her side, I must know if he is worthy. Can he protect her when I am not there? Can he withstand the fire of this family's legacy?"
Her gaze returned to the flickering fire, her thoughts briefly clouded with irritation. "I have set this event to teach Irina, but it has become more than that. I will test Astron, whether he knows it or not. His composure, his strength, his motives. They will all be laid bare. And if he fails…"
She trailed off, her lips pressing into a thin line. The Matriarch's silence was weightier than her words, a promise that failure would not be tolerated.
Esme shifted slightly, her calm demeanor never wavering. "And what if he does not fail, Matriarch? If he proves himself capable?"
The Matriarch's lips twitched into a faint smile, though her amber eyes remained as sharp as ever. "Then Irina's decision to place her trust in him may not be as misguided as I once thought. But do not mistake my curiosity for leniency, Esme. Trusting him will not come easily. He must prove himself in every way possible—his strength, his loyalty, his intentions."
Just as the Matriarch fell silent, a soft notification came from Esme's smartwatch.
"Lady Esme, we've just received word. The Young Lady and her companion have dealt with an ambush at the Stellamare Museum. They are both unharmed."
Esme's head tilted slightly, and her eyes flicked to the Matriarch. "It seems Irina and Astron have already passed one test."
The Matriarch's lips curled into a rare smile, faint but tinged with approval. "Apparently, that boy is indeed quite skilled," she mused, her tone soft but laden with intent. "Perhaps more so than even Irina realizes. For now, this is enough."
Her gaze lingered on the flickering flames as she stepped closer to the fire.
Her gaze lingered on the flickering flames as she stepped closer to the fire. "But this is only the beginning. If Astron truly wishes to stand beside Irina, then he will face trials far greater than this. And if he falters…"
The smile disappeared, replaced by a cold, calculating expression. "I will ensure he never becomes a liability to this family."
The suspended girl groaned faintly, her muffled sobs a haunting backdrop to the crackling fire. The Matriarch barely spared her a glance, extinguishing the flames with a flick of her wrist, plunging the room back into its dim shadows.
The Matriarch's gaze darkened as she turned from the extinguished flames, her silhouette outlined by the faint ember glow that still clung to the room. Her tone sharpened, carrying the weight of unyielding authority.
"Esme," she said, her voice calm yet seething with quiet intensity, "prepare our forces. It seems the time has come to deal with the cockroaches that have dared to skitter into the lion's den."
Esme inclined her head, her expression steady, though her lips tightened as if in silent acknowledgment of the gravity of the command. "As you wish, Matriarch."
The Matriarch stepped away from the fire, her movements deliberate and measured as she paced to the window. Her gaze swept across the sprawling estate, her mind already formulating the steps ahead. "The Hawkins family," she continued, her voice low but carrying a feral edge, "has forgotten their place. To strike at an Emberheart… to bare their fangs so openly… it is an insult I will not tolerate."
She turned to Esme, her amber eyes blazing with a fire that seemed to fill the room despite the extinguished flames. "The world has grown complacent, Esme. They have forgotten who we are. It is time they are reminded."
Esme's voice remained steady, though her gaze flickered with a hint of apprehension. "What would you have us do, Matriarch?"
The Matriarch's lips curved into a cold smile, devoid of warmth yet filled with purpose. "Heh….What else…..Fire of course…."