In the quiet suburbs, nestled within the dense woods, stood a grand European-style villa. It had once been a symbol of luxury and security. But tonight, its walls echoed only with death.
Bang!
The silence shattered.
A man's pleading eyes reflected fear, but it didn't matter. The assassin known as Firefox didn't hesitate. Holding a Beretta 92FS with a silencer, she pulled the trigger. The bullet found its mark, piercing through the man's forehead. His body collapsed silently onto the cold marble floor.
That was the last of the bodyguards.
But there was no triumph in Firefox's eyes. Her cold expression remained unchanged, and her tight red combat suit—sleek and form-fitting—did nothing to soften her icy presence. Her job was to kill, not to dazzle.
Around her, a dozen bodies lay lifeless. The mansion, once bustling with men trained to protect, had become a graveyard.
But something was wrong.
There was no sign of the target. The person she had come to eliminate wasn't here. All these deaths, all the effort—wasted.
She frowned, frustration welling beneath her calm surface. Biting her lip, Firefox considered her next move. But before she could act, her instincts screamed a warning.
A sharp sense of danger struck her.
Puff-puff.
Her heart raced, adrenaline flooding her veins. Her body moved before her mind could catch up—her right foot dug into the ground, and she rolled sideways. Something flew across the room as she moved.
Then—
A bullet whizzed by, slicing a few strands of her blonde hair.
But that was just the beginning.
The second shot hit her square in the right shoulder.
Blood burst from the wound, painting her suit red. Her mind flared with pain, but her training kicked in. If she had been off by a fraction of a second, that bullet would have pierced her heart.
Whoever was behind this—was a master.
The thought struck her like lightning. Firefox, an elite assassin herself, rarely met anyone who could surprise her—let alone land a hit. But this attacker had done both.
"Damn it!" she growled, dragging herself behind the bar counter. Her blood dripped steadily onto the floor. Her right arm was useless now. She winced, realizing just how bad the situation was.
She switched the pistol to her left hand, took a deep breath, and mentally prepared herself.
Then, she pulled the pin on a flashbang she had stashed in her gear.
Boom!
Blinding white light exploded through the villa. Firefox leaped through the shattered French windows, escaping into the night like a crimson shadow.
But the nightmare wasn't over.
As soon as she hit the ground, bullets rained from multiple directions.
Bang! Bang!
She twisted, turned, and dodged as best she could, but more bullets found their mark. Her body was beginning to slow. Her vision blurred.
Her heart raced with a single question: "Who the hell is this target?"
This wasn't a single skilled bodyguard. There were at least three highly trained operatives chasing her. She felt like prey, hunted not for security, but for sport.
"They're toying with me…" she realized grimly.
Desperate, Firefox spotted another villa across the yard. Without a second thought, she dashed toward it, determined to make a final stand.
If they wanted to kill her, fine. But she wouldn't die alone.
She prepared to vault the wall when—
"Why must you insist on dying?"
The voice floated into her ears like a breeze, but the weight behind it was crushing.
Kacha—
Something shattered—not outside, but inside her perception. The world fractured like broken glass.
The ground, the sky, her surroundings—everything splintered into mirrored fragments.
Firefox and the three agents chasing her stopped dead in their tracks.
Panic gripped them. The feeling of being ripped from reality overwhelmed their minds.
Before they could react further, golden ripples spread across the shards of their broken world, engulfing them.
And then—
Darkness.
That was the end.
Firefox's final thought before losing consciousness: "I shouldn't have taken this job…"
---
Back inside the second villa, the world couldn't have been more different.
Anji, a small girl, was curled up on the couch, giggling at a comedy show. The bright screen flickered with slapstick laughter, and she clapped her hands with glee.
She didn't know what had just happened outside.
Sitting beside her, Bella watched with a faint smile, holding the child gently.
The moment the girl got up and reached for the fridge, Bella stopped her with a hand.
"No more ice cream at night, sweetie. You'll get a stomachache."
"Aww… okay," Anji pouted but obeyed.
Bella's eyes glowed briefly—golden and intense—then faded.
She didn't look like someone who had just annihilated four trained killers.
To her, it was just like watching a street fight from the balcony. Pointless. Not worth her attention—unless it got close.
And it had.
She sighed. That woman—the assassin in red—had a strong figure, she had to admit. Almost impressive enough to distract her. But even beauty had no value if it posed a threat to her home or Anji's safety.
"They all die," she whispered. "No mercy."
Ever since Bella learned Soul Magic in the Sanctum of the Sorcerers, she had gained a unique perspective on life—and death. One glance was enough to see the dark, bloody auras clinging to those four intruders. She could even hear the wails of the damned hovering around them.
They weren't innocent.
They were killers, both modified and manipulated, with short lifespans and cybernetically-enhanced abilities. Standard contract tools from some British black-ops organization.
And the woman?
There was something more sinister. Bella had sensed it clearly.
A demonic aura.
She wasn't just a hired gun. She had ties to dark forces. That made things more interesting—and dangerous.
Bella narrowed her eyes, remembering a certain little demon she had once "trained." The girl had whined online about getting whipped during their sessions, yet kept coming back for more.
Bella chuckled.
"Kids these days."
Still, she had promised to take the girl to the sea now that summer vacation had started. Renting a yacht wasn't a big deal. A few days of sun and saltwater would do them both some good.
Even devils deserved time off.
Especially after a month of intense magical discipline.
Bella still saw herself as a generous teacher.
---
The next morning, sunlight filtered through the bedroom window, golden rays painting the sheets in soft warmth.
Outside, birds chirped happily, signaling a peaceful day.
On the bed, a young boy stirred. He yawned, stretched his arms, and slowly sat up.
The light bathed his handsome face, bringing out the sharp angles of his cheekbones and the subtle curve of a still-growing jawline.
He had no idea what had happened last night.
No idea that death had come and gone, right outside his home.
But that's how Bella wanted it.
Let the world try what it will. She'd kill without hesitation to protect what was hers.
---_________________________________
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