Southern Shore of the Sea of Conquest — Kankdal.
“Restrain the assassin! Secure the entire train! Don’t let any suspicious individuals escape!”
In the late morning, gunfire shattered the celebratory atmosphere of Kankdal Station. The spectators, panicked by the public shooting, scread and scattered in chaos, fleeing in all directions and throwing the entire area into disarray. The city guard, stationed around the periter, surged forward to seize control of the assailants and the train. However, the disordered crowd made it difficult for the guards to form ranks. Though the first attacker was subdued quickly, they struggled to control the whole train. Realizing this, Dorothy knew she couldn’t afford to linger any longer.
“Gotta slip out now… If I get trapped on this train, it’ll be a serious problem…”
Thinking this, she swiftly packed up all her belongings, covered her head and face with a scarf and veil, then opened her door and stepped out in a hurry. She knocked on the compartnt next door. After a short pause, the door opened to reveal Nephthys, still in her nightwear, eyes bleary with sleep. She blinked at the scene outside, then, recognizing the bundled figure by height and eye color, lazily asked.
“Mm… Miss Dorothy? Why’re you banging on my door so urgently? What’s going on outside? Sounds loud…”
“No ti to explain—get off the train with now!”
“Get off? Mmm… Lem change first.”
“Don’t! Just throw your robe over, grab your luggage, and move! We can’t waste any ti!”
“Ah… okay, okay…”
Sensing the urgency in Dorothy’s voice, Nephthys understood the situation was serious. She acted imdiately—didn’t even bother changing, just threw on her long North Ufigan robe, wrapped her head and face, and grabbed her prepared luggage. anwhile, Dorothy had already opened the compartnt window and tossed her own luggage out.
“We’re going out the window. Follow !”
She leapt down without hesitation. Nephthys nodded, threw her own bag after Dorothy’s, and climbed out right behind her.
Once on the ground, Dorothy led Nephthys away from the train. Under the cover of miniature corpse marionettes, they slipped through without drawing attention. The crowd was still in panic from the attack, and the city guard couldn’t contain the chaos. Taking advantage of the disorder, Dorothy made their escape—she knew all too well that if she were caught up in this suspicious assassination attempt, being detained by the guards would be the worst-case scenario.
Even while fleeing, Dorothy kept an eye on the assassination scene. The train attendant-assassin had been pinned down by the guards. Cidd, whom Vania had subdued, was also restrained with help from the city guard. He was unconscious, completely passed out.
“What…? More assassins? Were those train attendants also possessed?”
Vania was stunned by the chaos unfolding before her. Her eyes shifted toward the area guarded by city soldiers, where the wounded lay—those who had been shot. Urgency flared in her chest.
“No… I need to treat the injured imdiately!”
Vania’s thoughts raced, but just as she was about to leave Cidd to help the wounded VIPs, Dorothy’s voice cut into her mind through the info-link.
“Treatnt? Got it, Miss Dorothea…”
Vania responded with a few subtle gestures, then released the unconscious Cidd to the guards. She quickly approached the guarded VIP group. Because she had previously subdued an attacker rather than joining the assault, no one blocked her.
“Please—let examine the wounded! I can heal them!”
She addressed the guard captain. He glanced at her and replied.
“Thank you for your concern, Sister Vania, but it won’t be necessary. The city’s professional dical staff were called imdiately and are already treating Mr. Robert and the others. The treatnt is well underway—please don’t interfere. You should rest for now.”
The captain’s polite rejection was firm. Vania looked past him toward the wall of soldiers guarding the area. They had blocked the scene entirely, not letting anything be seen beyond them. She noticed a makeshift dical tent already being erected. The city guards had taken swift and thorough control of the site before the crowd had even processed what happened, surrounding it so tightly that not even a sliver of space remained.
"One more healer is one more helping hand—please let assist with the treatnt! I’ll only provide support from the side and won’t interfere with the lead physician’s work."
Although the guard captain had already declined her, Vania didn’t give up on offering her aid. She pleaded again. But this ti, the captain’s refusal was even firr.
“That won’t be necessary! All matters here have been fully handed over to the Kankdal city guard. Sister Vania, there’s no need for you to get involved—please step aside and rest. Our dical team also includes excellent Beyonders of the Holy Mother Path. You needn’t worry about the wounded.”
Hearing this, Vania froze briefly, her expression shifting to one of determination.
“What if I insist on treating them?”
“Then I’ll be forced to stop you with everything I’ve got. My apologies—this isn’t about distrust, Sister Vania, but all the assailants in this attack ca from your entourage. This is a necessary precaution.”
The guard captain’s stern tone was absolute. He locked eyes with her, and an invisible pressure radiated from him. Vania felt her body tense up, instantly recognizing the power this man wielded.
“This captain… he’s a Beyonder—and not a low-ranked one. He’s likely White Ash rank…”
Faced with the captain and the well-equipped guards flanking him, Vania sensed an overwhelming force. She was standing before the fully mobilized defensive and mystic authority of Kankdal—legally sanctioned and superior to her both in jurisdiction and strength. With her own escort unit heavily damaged and still incapacitated, Vania understood she had neither the legal standing nor the power to wrest control over this situation. Challenging them now would be reckless.
She furrowed her brow and took two steps back. anwhile, Dorothy—blending into the crowd with Nephthys as they attempted to leave the scene—observed this and instantly felt sothing was wrong.
“There’s sothing fishy here…”
Suspicious, Dorothy imdiately sent her small corpse marionettes, stationed around the train station, toward the dical tent the guards were building. But as soon as they approached the vicinity, the Shadows within her Concealnt Ring began depleting at an alarming rate—practically vanishing.
“High-intensity mystic detection!?”
Realizing the heavy magical surveillance around the tent, Dorothy called off the marionettes and retreated into a concealed corner of the station. There, she pulled out her magic box and swiftly extracted a test tube filled with a dark red liquid.
She then retrieved an ordinary iron ring, slipped it over the test tube, and wedged a small cloth strip into the gap between ring and glass, fastening the two tightly. With everything secured, she threw the ringed tube into the air and used her power to magnetically guide it upward and toward the sky.
Back at the assassination site, Vania remained locked in a silent standoff with the guard captain. As neither side yielded, the sky above them suddenly caught attention—a small object soared through the air, heading straight for the restricted area guarded by soldiers. The captain, noticing it at the last second, drew his firearm and fired mid-air. The test tube shattered four or five ters above the ground.
The mont it burst, the dark red fluid inside transford into a thick, roiling red mist. It erupted across the restricted space, engulfing the entire site in an instant, including Vania and the guard captain.
“What… what is this stuff!?”
Blinded by the red fog, the captain spun around in confusion. Though he didn’t know exactly what the mist was, his instincts scread it needed to be dispersed. He imdiately drew a Shadow sigil and conjured a gust of wind—but to his shock, the wind only caused the mist to churn violently in place. It didn’t disperse at all. From the outside, the red mist now looked like a gaseous sli blob, constantly morphing and twisting without moving an inch.
Worse still, soone nearby yelled in fluent Falanoan, “Raise wind and drive off the fog!” Prompted by this, the other guards also activated their wind sigils. Gusts whipped in from every direction, clashing violently and creating chaotic turbulence. Eyes burned, visibility vanished. The wind combined with the blood mist turned the entire site into a maelstrom of confusion.
But Vania knew what the mist was. The mont it touched her skin, she recognized it—it was Blood Fog, a mystical substance used by the Eight-Spired Nest. She’d seen it before when battling Claudius in the underground ruins of Royal Crown University. The fog concealed and healed simultaneously.
Winds failed to disperse the mist. Instead, they battered the dics and soldiers inside the cordon, many of whom couldn’t even keep their eyes open. The storm of wind and red fog rendered the site completely chaotic. Amid the confusion, cries of pain rang out—several people were wounded again. Vania, hearing the screams, tried to move toward the sound, but a familiar voice rang in her head.
Responding instantly, she turned to her right and saw sothing flying toward her through the fog. She reached out and caught it. It was a beak-shaped mask—an old-style doctor’s respirator.
Without hesitation, Vania put on the beaked mask. It shielded her eyes and lungs, granting her much better mobility in the storm. With improved vision and breath, she dashed forward through the blood fog.
The captain, overwheld by the confusion, failed to notice her move. Seizing the mont, Vania leapt into the restricted area. She soon reached the source of the cries—two individuals writhing in agony. As she drew closer, she confird: they were a noble lady and gentleman, clutching bloody wounds, surrounded by toppled dics and shattered dicine bottles.
Seeing this scene, Vania imdiately tore a strip of cloth, soaked it in the dicine spilled from a shattered vial, then hoisted the two wounded individuals onto her shoulders and ran swiftly toward the edge of the restricted zone. Guided by the voice in her mind, she navigated the chaotic surroundings and found the right path. Along the way, she could feel nurous figures trying to shout and pursue her, but her full-speed sprint made it impossible for them to catch up. Within monts, all her pursuers were lost in the confusion of the swirling blood fog and wild winds.
Not long after, Vania burst out of the maelstrom of blood and wind into the area of the train station where the panicked crowd had gathered. Before everyone’s eyes, she gently laid the two wounded victims onto the ground and imdiately began administering treatnt to them, diagnosing their conditions in full view of the shocked onlookers.
It didn’t take long for Vania to detect sothing abnormal. The symptoms displayed by the patients weren’t just from the gunshots. Activating her ability to examine their entire bodies, she discovered that, aside from bullet wounds, there was another factor threatening their lives—poison.
She could feel that a deadly toxin had already spread through most of their bodies. The poison was so intense that it would have killed an ordinary person in monts. Under normal circumstances, they should’ve been long dead.
The only reason the two had managed to hang on until Vania’s treatnt was due to the potent life-sustaining effect provided by the blood fog itself. This mist, developed by the Eight-Spired Nest for their elite cadre, was designed to preserve life in critical monts. Given its broad spectrum of lethal threats, it was more than sufficient to sustain ordinary individuals for a ti.
Reviews
All reviews (0)