The gunshot rang out with startling clarity in the silent, snow-covered ruins of the city.
The Deputy felt a searing pain tear through his right arm, followed by the sensation of bone and muscle being pierced clean through.
His right hand, which had been gripping the Wand, instantly lost all strength. The pitch-black Wand flew from his grasp, tracing a weak arc through the air before clattering to the ground with a sharp clang.
The Deputy looked down sharply. Just above his right elbow, a bloody, gaping wound had appeared, blood gushing forth and staining the tattered sleeve of his robe crimson.
He whipped his head around toward the source of the gunshot—
Sefina.
The petite blue-haired girl still stood in place, both hands steadily leveling a simply designed otherworld construct—
A handgun.
A faint wisp of smoke still curled from the muzzle, slowly dissipating in the cold wind.
Sefina’s wine-red eyes looked at the Deputy through the sights, devoid of any hesitation, filled only with cold resolve and determination.
Firing a gun required neither incantation nor the construction of an Array, not even a discernible buildup of mana.
For a Mage who relied on mana perception for early warning, at such close range, it was nearly impossible to defend against.
The Deputy was nearly beside himself with rage.
A trap! It had been a trap from beginning to end! The Ninth Seat, this seemingly petite and harmless cadre, was the true hunter!
He stood frozen in place, not only because his severe wounds left him unable to move, but also because of the shock and bewilderment brought on by this massive reversal.
At that moment, the barrier’s light membrane was rapidly closing, completely enveloping him.
His right hand was now crippled, his Wand had flown from his grasp, and all around him… that damned Prison Lock barrier had fully formed as well.
Even if he wanted to crawl over and pick up the Wand, within the barrier he could not cast any effective magic at all.
“Ninth Seat, you…!”
The Deputy squeezed a hoarse roar from deep in his throat, filled with the furious rage of betrayal and the despair of a cornered beast.
However, Sefina paid no heed to his roar. She simply slowly lowered the arm holding the gun, as though gazing at prey already caught in a net.
At that moment, Sefina’s red lips parted slightly, and her voice, though not loud, clearly issued the final command:
“Flovi, finish it!”
The figure who had been standing not far away moved the instant the order was heard.
No magical glow, no incanted spell. She simply dashed forward in a single swift stride, her figure like an arrow loosed from a bowstring, tracing a blurred black line through the barrier’s faint purple glow!
“Clang—!”
A sharp ring of metal friction sounded as the Sword at her waist left its sheath.
The Prison Lock barrier suppressed all active magic casting, but it could not dispel a weapon’s mana enchantment, nor could it restrict a purely physical slash.
Flovi gripped the Sword with both hands, the blade cutting through the air, and brought it down on the Deputy’s exposed neck in a single slash!
The Deputy did not even have time to make any effective dodge or block.
His body was already gravely wounded, and he could only watch as that cold gleam of swordlight rapidly expanded in his vision.
The dull sound of a blade tearing through flesh and bone—brief and clear.
“Splat—!”
The Deputy’s head separated from his body, carried upward by the momentum of the swing in a shallow arc, then landing on the snow not far away, rolling twice, yet the mask remained firmly fastened to his face.
The headless torso stood rigid for a moment, blood gushing like a Fountain from the severed neck, staining a large expanse of snow and frozen earth crimson beneath it. A thick stench of blood instantly filled the air.
Then the torso lost all support and pitched heavily forward.
It was over.
From the intelligence misdirection at the very start of the plan, to the subtle manipulation beneath the Church, to this final killing trap.
Sefina’s objective of eliminating the Deputy seemed to have been achieved.
Flovi sheathed her Sword and stepped back two paces to return to Sefina’s side, her golden eyes calmly regarding the corpse and the head on the ground.
Sefina also quietly gazed at the Deputy’s corpse. But deep within her wine-red eyes, a faint trace of complex emotion flickered past.
The plan… seemed to have gone too smoothly.
She had originally anticipated more variables, even worried that the Deputy, after the exchange of Eighth-Tier Magic with the Pope, might still harbor some kind of life-preserving or counterattack trump card.
That was precisely why Sefina had deliberately brought Flovi along, as a final safeguard.
But now it appeared the Deputy’s condition was even worse than expected.
Gravely wounded, mana depleted, and no other counterattack.
Even Sefina alone could have dealt with him directly.
Had she overestimated him, or… was something not right?
However, the distant clamor quickly interrupted her thoughts.
“There’s movement over there!”
“Hurry! The Pope says the intruder’s aura is in this area!”
“Surround it! Careful!”
The shouts of the Church Guards and the chaotic sound of footsteps were rapidly closing in from multiple directions.
Clearly, the Pope had captured the Deputy’s final burst of mana and locked onto this area.
There was no time to deal with the scene.
Sefina made a decisive call, withdrew her gaze, and said quietly to Flovi:
“We’re leaving!”
Flovi nodded immediately, and then…
Then, unexpectedly, she stepped forward, extended both arms, and with an extremely practiced motion, scooped up the petite Sefina in a horizontal carry.
“Hey hey! Flovi! I didn’t tell you to carry me! Put me down, I can walk on my own!”
Caught off guard, Sefina’s body was lifted off the ground, and a flicker of embarrassed irritation crossed her wine-red eyes as she protested in a low voice.
This airheaded maid always executed orders so “directly”!
However, Flovi seemed not to hear her protest, or perhaps deemed “rapid retreat” to have priority over her master’s verbal objection.
She held Sefina tight, pushed off with her feet, and her lithe body darted forward like lightning, using the cover of abandoned buildings to weave nimbly through the complex terrain in zigzagging paths.
In a few leaps and bounds, the two figures vanished into the ruined city, leaving only the headless corpse behind, and the rapidly spreading pool of blood.
A short while later, a squad of fully armed Church Guards was the first to rush into the open area.
The light of torches and illumination magic dispersed some of the darkness, revealing the shocking scene on the snow.
“Found it! The body is here!”
“Hisss… his head’s been cut off!”
“The clothing and appearance… match the intruder the Pope described.”
The Guards immediately spread into a stay alert formation, two of them cautiously approaching the corpse.
One used a longsword to flick open the tattered black robe, confirming there were no traps.
The other crouched down, enduring the thick stench of blood, and reached for the edge of the mask that had rolled off to the side.
“Take off his mask, let’s see who had the nerve to infiltrate the Church!” the patrol captain ordered.
The Guard gave a firm tug, and the mask came off easily.
However, when everyone gathered around and saw what lay beneath the mask, their expressions froze in an instant, replaced by utter astonishment and a trace of fear.
Beneath the mask… there was no face.
Where the head should have been, there was only a smooth cross-section, with no features, no hair, not even skin texture.
Why was it like this?!
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