Free Web NovelThe laughter echoed across the empty Crossroads, partially absorbed by the snowflakes and reflected back by the walls of the surrounding buildings, creating a strange resonance in the night sky.
It was as if someone had suddenly started singing at a funeral.
The four members of the Iron Teeth Society all looked at Pavela.
They had just experienced the intense pain of their Way Back being forcibly severed; each was struggling to varying degrees to regain control over their bodies.
But this laughter made them all stop in their tracks.
Because this wasn't right.
This was completely wrong.
As an organization constantly hunted by the Gendarmerie,
They naturally recognized this formation as originating from the Path of the Magician.
But this kind of formation suppressed every Way Back except for the Path of the Magician.
Every single one.
Regardless of type, regardless of friend or foe.
Within the coverage of this golden pattern, any Wayfarer who followed a path other than the Path of the Magician should be just like them—losing their power and turning back into ordinary people.
Yet this blood-covered silver-haired young girl stood in the center of the Crossroads, head tilted back, laughing loudly at the golden formation in the sky.
As if laughing at a joke only she understood.
Short Axe Man was the first to react.
Gritting his teeth, he scooped his axe up from the ground, gripped it with both hands, and charged at Pavela.
He understood what the appearance of this formation meant.
Without the blessing of the Way of Strength, they would have zero chance of winning the upcoming battle against the Gendarmerie.
The only solution now was to kill the prey before them and then rely on the power gained from a sequence promotion to forcibly break through the formation's lockdown.
Even without the blessing of the faint blue light, even without the explosive power boost of the Way of Strength, he was still a warrior nearly six feet tall, weighing at least two hundred pounds, who had survived countless life-and-death struggles.
Against a heavily injured girl not even sixteen years old, he still possessed an overwhelming physical advantage!
The axe blade swung toward Pavela's shoulder.
This time, Pavela didn't even dodge.
She didn't even stop laughing.
She simply raised her left hand and made a casual swipe in the air.
A golden light screen appeared out of thin air between her and Short Axe Man.
Thin as a cicada's wing and translucent, fine patterns flowed across its surface like ripples on water.
The axe blade struck the light screen.
A crisp crack sounded.
Like glass shattering, but crisper, cleaner, with a metallic echo.
The light screen shattered.
Golden fragments scattered in the air like gold leaf blown by the wind.
But the axe blade also stopped.
All force and all kinetic energy were completely absorbed the moment they touched the light screen.
Short Axe Man felt as if he had punched a bale of cotton.
No, it was weirder than cotton.
At least cotton had a sense of touch; this light screen, while shattering, precisely stripped, converted, and dissipated every ounce of strength from his axe.
The axe stopped in mid-air, motionless.
Then, losing all inertia, it dropped heavily like a stone thrown into water.
Short Axe Man had to exert effort just to pull the axe back.
Pavela was still laughing.
She took a step.
Toward Short Axe Man.
"Just now—"
Her voice was hoarse, broken by laughter and coughing.
"Didn't you all say that I was—"
Another step.
The Archer fired an arrow from the side.
Without the faint blue light attached, it was just an ordinary arrow, but the Archer's arm strength and aim were still there; the arrowhead pointed straight at the back of Pavela's neck.
Pavela didn't even look back.
A second light screen appeared between the back of her neck and the arrow.
The arrow hit the light screen, the screen shattered, and the arrow lost all kinetic energy, falling helplessly onto the snow like a discarded twig.
—the source of disaster?"
Another step.
The Short Stature lunged from the right. Though his ten fingers no longer had the faint blue light, the calluses on his fingertips and his thick joints showed he was an expert in close-quarters combat.
His target was Pavela's waist, intending to tackle her.
A third light screen appeared at Pavela's right waist, like a door being pushed open, blocking the Short Stature's path.
The Short Stature's shoulder hit the light screen, which shattered, but his momentum was completely neutralized. He felt as if he'd hit a soft wall and was bounced back, stumbling three steps before landing on his backside in the snow.
Pavela continued to walk forward.
Her pace was very slow.
It wasn't that she was doing it on purpose.
Her current body simply wouldn't allow her to walk fast.
With every step, a dull pain shot through her left shoulder. Her right arm hung at her side like a useless stick, swaying with her steps, and the blood on her school skirt left a broken dark-red trail in the snow.
But she was very happy.
If her physical condition allowed it, she really wanted to dance.
Right here on this snow-covered Crossroads, stepping through the light shed by the golden formation, surrounded by four enemies, she wanted to do a tap dance from some old movie she'd seen in her past life.
Unfortunately, her left shoulder was dislocated, her right arm was useless, her ribs were cracked, and there might be blood in her lungs.
She couldn't dance.
She could only walk.
But she walked very happily.
Walking and laughing.
The laughter had shifted from loud guffaws to intermittent, wheezing chuckles, as if she had laughed for so long she was running out of strength to even do that.
The tall, thin cloaked man launched an attack from behind.
He was the fastest of the four; even without the boost of Return Power, his physical fitness far exceeded that of an ordinary person.
He cut in from directly behind Pavela, holding a short blade in each hand. His left hand stabbed toward her lower back while his right slashed toward the back of her neck, both angles simultaneously cutting off her space to dodge left or right.
Two light screens appeared at once.
One blocked the lower back, the other the neck.
Two crisp cracks rang out almost simultaneously, golden fragments exploding behind Pavela like two fireworks blooming at once.
The tall, thin cloaked man's hands went numb from the recoil, and the short blades nearly slipped from his grasp.
He retreated two steps and exchanged a look with the other three.
The four of them moved at once.
From four directions.
Short Axe Man swung from the front, the Archer fired from the side, the Short Stature lunged low, and the tall, thin cloaked man circled behind at high speed.
Four attacks, four angles, four different timings.
They had coordinated this hunting tactic for two years; even without Return Power, this combination attack was enough to leave most opponents overwhelmed.
Four light screens appeared simultaneously.
Front, left, right, and back.
Four crisp cracks.
Four sets of golden shards interlaced, drifted, and dissolved in the air.
All four attacks were neutralized.
Pavela stood in the center of the four shattered light screen remnants, golden fragments falling on her hair, her shoulders, and her eyelashes like a golden drizzle meant only for her.
She was still laughing.
“So now—”
Her gaze locked onto Short Axe Man.
“I’ve decided to be the source of disaster once more.”
“I’m going to kill you all.”
She took her next step.
Walking toward Short Axe Man.
Short Axe Man raised his axe and swung down.
The light screen appeared, shattered, and the axe blade stalled.
He took a step back.
Pavela took a step forward.
He swung again.
The light screen reappeared, shattered again, and the axe blade stalled again.
He retreated again.
She advanced again. ƒrēewebnovel.com
The Archer fired three arrows in rapid succession from the side, trying to break Pavela's rhythm of advancement.
Three light screens appeared one after another at Pavela's side, shattering in sequence and turning the arrows into powerless falling objects.
Pavela didn't even glance at the Archer.
The Short Stature tried to circle from Pavela's blind spot to get between her and Short Axe Man, hoping to buy space for his teammate with his own body.
A light screen appeared in front of him, not to block an attack, but to block his path.
He tried to go around the screen.
The light screen moved with him.
He went left, the screen went left.
He went right, the screen went right.
Like a transparent, insurmountable wall, it kept the distance between him and Short Axe Man firmly sealed.
The tall, thin cloaked man launched his fastest dash of the night, charging toward Pavela's side waist in a nearly straight line—
Light screen.
Shatter.
Stalled.
He couldn't even get within three steps of Pavela.
Short Axe Man's back hit the wall.
The end of the alleyway.
A dead end.
He still had his axe in hand, but he had swung seven times, and seven times it had been completely neutralized by those damned golden light screens.
His arms were shaking.
Not just because the cumulative recoil from every time the light screen stripped his force was making his muscle fibers protest,
But because of fear.
Pavela stood before him.
Less than two steps away.
Her physical condition was worse than his—there was no doubt about that.
Her right arm was useless, her left shoulder was dislocated, and the bloodstains on her school uniform were so large they made one wonder how much blood she had left. Every breath was accompanied by a faint, wet noise, as if there were fluid sloshing in her lungs.
But she stood there.
And he had nowhere left to retreat.
The sounds of his other three teammates' attacks still rang behind him—the crisp cracks of metal hitting light screens, the dull thuds of arrows hitting the ground, the rustle of feet slipping on the snow.
But not one of them could break through those damned light screens; not one could get near him.
Pavela tilted her head slightly, looking at him.
In those eyes, against the light grey-blue base, the golden rings at the edges of her pupils flickered slightly.
Then she moved.
Her left foot slid forward half a ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) step, her center of gravity suddenly dropping, and the dagger in her left hand traced an arc from below.
Short Axe Man cried out in pain, his fingers instinctively loosening for a split second.
That split second was all it took.
Pavela's left foot hooked the end of the axe handle and pulled outward.
The axe left his hand, flipped once in the air, and thudded into the snow.
As Short Axe Man lost his weapon, Pavela's left shoulder slammed into his chest.
She used the dislocated shoulder, causing her to wince in pain herself.
But it was enough.
Short Axe Man's back was already against the wall, and this impact completely threw him off balance. His feet slipped on the snow, he slid down the wall into a sitting position, and then Pavela stepped on his calf, causing him to tumble sideways to the ground.
Face down.
Pavela's knee pressed onto his back.
The tip of the dagger pressed against the skin of his neck; the cold touch of metal made Short Axe Man's entire body tense up.
Behind her, the other three Iron Teeth Society members were still trying to break through the light screen's lockdown.
Golden fragments continued to bloom and dissolve in the air like a never-ending firework display.
But not one could get close.
Short Axe Man lay on the cold snow, gravel digging into his cheek, the dagger tip at his neck sending a prickle of pain through him.
"...Hah."
He squeezed a sound out from his throat.
"Can we settle this?"
Pavela looked down at him.
Snowflakes fell on her eyelashes, on the blade of the dagger in her hand, and on the small patch of skin on Short Axe Man's neck where the dagger tip was pressing an indentation.
"At this very moment?"
Her voice was hoarse, the trace of laughter in her tone not yet fully faded.
"You're not joking, are you?"
