Chapter 87. Double Kill!

Author's Note: EXAMS ARE FINALLY OVER!!! 😭

*****

CLANG! The sound of blades crashing into one another screamed in the hallway, and illuminating sparks bounced off from the contact.

"Willow! Stay back!" Dashing mahogany red hair flashed across the maidservant's vision. A handsome spear slashed forwards, forcing the cloaked figure with the cross to stumble backwards. Scarletta swung the hilt of her weapon across her shoulders, the speed too fast for the naked eye to follow. In an instant, she brilliantly decapitated the intruder's head off.

A fountain of blood exploded from the decapitation.

Both Scarletta and Willow jumped back to avoid the splash. "There are intruders in the manor," the eldest Rubius sibling scoffed, "Willow, please escort Lucy out of the manor. Ratt and I will take care of this." Her voice was stiflingly cold, unable to let any disagreements through.

Willow nodded, then scurried away.

Her silver figure was fleeting, like a meteorite swimming across the boundless skies. What in the world are those intruders? They are hearing a cross... All of a sudden, something seemed to click in Willow's kind. The Holy Church. The cross is their representative sign, but just why are they attacking us?

The maidservant fled past the hallway.

She quickly made it to her Young Master's bed chamber.

"Young Master!" Willow bursted in the door, her face twisted in concern.

"Mmm... what is it..." Lucilline hadn't even fallen asleep for long. His locks of hair were entangled like a bird's nest, and his golden eyes only opened a thin slit. Before he could react, Willow seized him by the arm, then dragged him out of bed and onto the floor.

"Young Master! We must leave immediately!" For some odd reason, Willow could not ease the worry in her heart.

Their figures—one dressed in a maid dress and the other in a white nightgown—dashed across the corridor. Silhouettes of moonlight white swam across the murky hallway, as heels clicked against the marble ground. "This might be abrupt, Young Master," Willow began explaining, "but we must evacuate from the premises this instant! There are intruders who somehow managed to infiltrate in the Rubius manor..."

"But how is that possible?" Lucilline was shocked awake. "There are over 50,000 traps laid on the mountain..."

Willow fell silent.

She had no idea how to reassure her Young Master. If the enemy is capable of entering the building completely unharmed from the traps... then they must be super strong!

The young maidservant pulled out a dagger from under her skirt. If anyone dares to charge at us, I won't hesitate to slice them down!

All of a sudden, a white cloak fell from the ceiling.

It gently descended on the ground, almost weightless like a feather. There were dark limbs extending out from the sleeves of the cloak. "Stop there." That voice was low and unfamiliar. The man dressed in the white cloak unsheathed his sword, a sharp blade pointing directly at the two prey.

Lucilline tensed. He noticed the sign of a cross upon the white cloak. The Holy Church? Why—

Before he could continue his thoughts, the tip of a blade hovered before his golden iris.

CLANG! Willow blocked the sword with her dagger, sparks illuminating between the two blades' contact. "Stay close to me, Young Master! There might be other intruders nearby!"

"Are you sure you should be distracted?" The man with the cloak deadpanned.

He extended a spare hand, then slapped the maidservant across the face! The force was so great, Willow's whole body was sent flying across the air! Her figure slammed straight into a nearby wall, with cracks splitting over the surface! The wall had sunken back, forming a concave shape, as if a crater crashed straight into the building!

"Willow!" Lucilline cried out.

The white cloaked man did not spare any time. He lunged at the incapacitated maid, the sword in his one hand stabbing straight at her!

Willow spun, dodging the slash.

The sword stabbed into the wall, with the crevices trapping it on the spot.

"Tch," the cloaked man was annoyed.

"TAKE THIS!" Willow hollowed out. She snuck underneath the man's vision, stabbing straight at his leg! To her surprise, the cloaked man abandoned pulling out his sword! With merely a single kick, the dagger recoiled out of the maid's grip and skidded across the marble floor. Willow was knocked back a few steps. Before she could regain her balance, the cloaked man seized her by the throat.

Lucilline stood there frozen.

The cloaked man strangled the kicking maidservant, raising her body up so that her legs dangled pitifully in the air. "Y-You're not... human..." Willow gritted her teeth, clawing at the man's calloused hands. No matter how hard she tried, his grip did not falter.

"You're not human either." The cloaked man hummed. "I can smell the drugs in your blood. You are merely an imitation of true power."

The blood was sucked out of Willow's face. She kicked upwards, constantly trying to spring out of the strangulation. However, to her dismay, the man only stared forwards with a dead look, as if taking the life of another did not matter.

Willow's face turned purple, resembling the ripening of mauve plums, only to be ground into a stone grinding bowl and with its fleshes torn apart into shreds.

She desperately grabbed for life.

All of a sudden, the man dropped her.

Willow collapsed onto the ground, flopping like a fish without water. She heaved and coughed, her chest rising up and down. A layer of flesh on her neck was ripped off, exposing wicked veins which pulled at her survival. "W-What..."

Lucilline pulled the dagger out of the cloaked man's back, dark viscous blood seeping from the vicious wound. The black-haired nobleman withdrew Willow's fallen blade, only to stab straight into the man's back again! He allowed more and more flesh to drip out, running down his slender white jade-like fingers, slithering past every knuckle in crimson red.

"Y-Young Master..." Willow clutched at her own neck, her voice hoarse and feverish. "Are you alright..."

The cloaked man collapsed headfirst, but Lucilline did not stop stabbing. He widened the man's wound, making sure that more blood leaked out, pooling around his lifeless figure.

"...Young Master!"

That voice brought Lucilline back to the present. Willow quickly pulled the black-haired nobleman away from the bloodied man, enveloping him in her embrace. "That's enough!" She hurriedly wiped away at his dirtied hands, her handkerchief stained in the blood. "Stop stabbing at him..." Willow seemed reluctant, "he's... already dead."

Lucilline stood still, silent at the horrifying view of spilt flesh.

I killed someone. That thought lingered in his mind for a moment, creeping by his ear like a vehement snake. "Let's go." Willow nudged, pulling him away from the scene of the crime. She took back her dagger from the dead body, then their two figures continued racing down the hallway.

*****

Scarletta swung her spear wildly, the blade stabbing past a cloaked figure's shoulder, and nailing them into the wall. "Stay there and don't move." The eldest sister huffed. She wiped the sweat trickling from her forehead with a handkerchief.

All of a sudden, a large sound came from behind!

Scarletta whipped around, facing the scene. Another white cloaked figure collapsed, with a spear piercing them in the face.

Zephyratt grinned, "Need any help, bitch?"

"No thanks, Ratt." Scarletta sneered, withdrawing her spear from the pinned figure, then slashed at their arm! An arm was cut down, and blood began to seep out at an alarming rate—as if the flood gates were burst open and all the water rushed out.

Scarletta brushed away a strand of her own hair. "Just kill them all."

To her surprise, Zephyratt froze on the spot.

The eldest sibling arched a brow at this scene. "What is it? Scared shitless?"

"No," Zephyratt frowned. "There is the smell of..."

Before they could realize it, flames of a burning ember colour had surrounded them! Black fire—though occasionally with a spark of light—had enveloped the walls, eating at the rich decorations like a gluttonous beast.

"Demonic fire?" Scarletta realized something was wrong.

Before she could come to her senses, the cloaked figure who had their arm cut off by her, had grumbled wordlessly. "Don't move!" Scarletta glared. She stabbed her spear at them again, but shadows instantly enveloped the blade.

"You should be the one to not move." The cloaked figure pulled down their cloak.

A pair of violet eyes were revealed, a dangerous glow illuminating from its irises, as if they were scorching straight into Scarletta's own retinas. "You should just die." A nest of purple hair tussled out from the white cloak. That figure belonged to a purple-haired girl—November—she raised a shoulder, which had a lump of remaining flesh.

Within a mere second, liquid shadow formed at the end... forming the shape of an arm. The shadow peeled apart like blossoming petals, revealing pure wheat-coloured skin.

The moment that arm was regained, Scarletta withdrew her spear, spinning it crazily before plunging it down at the regenerating girl.

"Too late." November allowed the spear to pierce her shoulder, but her regenerated arm immediately grew longer! In an instant, her arm extended, and her claw-like hand ripped through Scarletta's abdomen, tearing the flesh apart as if it was paper.

The two stopped in place.

Scarletta rigidly looked down.

She noticed the hollow hole in her abdomen, her black dress drenched in her own blood. A layer of mist welled in her silver eyes, and her rosy red lips twitched, as if trying to muster up the strength to say a word. At last, her mouth pursed into a small smile.

Then she fell back onto the ground.

"SISTERRRR!!!" A hoarse scream resounded past the hallway.

Zephyratt lunged like a madman at the purple-haired girl, his spear shining in hunger for revenge. His originally handsome face contorted into madness, like an endless spiral to the abyss. Mahogany red hair flashed vividly in the night, and silver eyes as melancholic as the moonlight were an unextinguished torch of unkempt hatred.

November withdrew the hand pierced through Scarletta's abdomen.

She grabbed at the hilt of Scarletta's spear, pulling it out of her own shoulder easily. November deflected Zephyratt's attack, their blades shaking from the sparks igniting in between.

These two spears were often used to in sparring by brother and sister. The two blades often basked in the arguments of the two siblings, as they tried to fight for their own victory. Whenever a sibling had fallen to their knees in fatigue, the other would immediately put down their spear and look on in concern. Now, the blades clashed against one another, as wild bitterness coated every attack.

There was no good will—only killing intent.

November deflected all of Zephyratt's attacks, a look of boredom worn on her indifferent face. "This is no good. You are nowhere as talented as your sister."

She kicked the second Rubius sibling in the leg, feeling the ring of bones shake against her boot. "There is no way you can beat me if your sister can't." November slashed down at the red-haired nobleman, but the latter dodged it seamlessly.

Zephyratt lunged at the demoness unceasingly, his actions feral like an undomesticated creature. His appearance was disheveled—strands of his mahogany red hair loose and falling out, and his attire soaked in the blood of those he'd slain.

RING! November knocked the spear out of his grip, which went flying across the ground!

When Zephyratt ran off to pick his weapon back up, November slashed at his ankle! A clean cut torn at the red-haired nobleman's left calve.

However, a powerful grip held onto the blade.

Zephyratt did not care about the blade cutting his palms, nor cared about the blood seeping out from his flesh. In an instant, he tugged at the spear, pulling the purple-haired girl towards him! "WHAT—!" November was caught off guard, and was flung forwards to the nobleman.

SMASH!!! A raging fist lodged straight into her jaw!

The sound of a skull cracking had resounded. However, the red-haired nobleman did not stop there. He grabbed the lapels of November, with the latter slumping in his grip. His other arm arched back—before delivering another punch at her! The sound of bones breaking exploded in the hallway. It was unknown whether Zephyratt's knuckles broke from the harsh contact, but it did not matter.

He relentlessly punched, punched, punched, punched, punched, and punched.

November spat out blood, her lower jaw completely dislodged. Zephyratt did not stop. He jabbed his fist at the demon's face, feeling her eye sockets break beneath his hands.

Her nose was broken, and a layer of skin on her face had completely ripped off. Only flesh remained.

November would try to regenerate her bones, only for them to be snapped by the nobleman's beating. The purple-haired girl collapsed on the ground, her abdomen squashed when Zephyratt jumped on top, who did not cease his punches.

Blood pooled around their two figures.

At last, Zephyratt caught his breath. His mess of an appearance was shameless—the top half of his shirt soaked in blood.

"I can't let Lucy see me like this." He muttered under his breath. His silver eyes flickered over to the lifeless body of his eldest sister.

Scarletta still wore a small smile.

Zephyratt's face darkened. "What is there to be happy about..." He almost had the extreme urge to punch his sister back to life. "...there is nothing good about this..."

"You're right." All of a sudden, a foreign voice spoke from behind. Locks of blonde hair entered the nobleman's view, and a pair of crimson red eyes burned into his retinas. "You have beaten my companion black and blue. It is going to be a mess after this." The blonde-haired woman sighed.

Miss A. then smiled. "You will have to compensate for this."

A snap of her fingers, then black fire engulfed Zephyratt whole.

*****

Fire had enveloped the entirety of the Rubius manor.

Only two lone figures kneeled outside, one desperately praying and the other speaking reassuring words. "Don't worry, Young Master. Your siblings will surely be fine." Willow spoke gently, but her Young Master did not respond to her.

Prayers were chanted the entire night—from the solemn inky skies until the break of dawn.

Not a single soul stepped out from the manor.