Eternal Undying Chronicles

Amena stepped off the communicator with Elizalina Crimson and surveyed her surroundings. The wind howled relentlessly at the top of the skyscraper, whipping snow into a frenzy as the blizzard gathered strength. Her maid uniform remained immaculate, her brown hair neatly tied in a bun, despite the ferocity of the storm.

The alchemist had fled from Elizalina using an enchanted artifact, a costly and desperate maneuver.

"It must have been a rare artifact for him to groan like that... or one with significant backlash," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the wind. But she wasn't speaking to anyone—just assessing the situation aloud.

Her sharp, stoic eyes scanned the city below until they locked onto a small alley not far away. There, motes of light began to coalesce into the figure of a disheveled man—the alchemist.

"So, he abandoned his companions without hesitation. No matter... I will catch him," she stated firmly.

Without a moment's hesitation, she stepped off the skyscraper's edge, her body descending rapidly. Before she hit the ground, she whispered a single spell. Explore stories at My Virtual Library Empire

"Feather Fall."

Her descent slowed, momentum bleeding away until she landed softly on the roof of a nearby building. From there, she leaped again, her fingers scraping the walls as she slid down, leaving a trail of sparks in her wake. She landed gracefully in the alley, dusting off her uniform as she strode towards the alchemist.

He was hunched over, surrounded by vials of potions, hastily drinking their contents in a bid to recover. He hadn't noticed her yet; her approach was utterly silent.

When he finally turned his head, his eyes widened.

"A maid?" he muttered, his voice tinged with disbelief.

He narrowed his gaze, his monocle glowing faintly with enchanted energy. His expression shifted to awe and intrigue.

"By the heavens... she's a homunculus. High quality, too—indistinguishable from a human."

His eyes lingered on her hand, which had morphed into the shape of a blade.

"If not for your weaponized hand, I would never have guessed. Such perfection... such beauty. Who created you? I must know!"

Amena's stoic demeanor remained unshaken, though her eyes betrayed a faint shadow of disgust. She despised alchemists, despite her origins. They had not created her soul—only her body. Yet here stood this self-important man, marveling at her existence as though she were nothing more than a prize to be claimed.

Even so, she answered calmly.

"I was created by the imperial alchemists of the Evernight Empire."

The alchemist's face lit up with excitement.

"The Evernight Empire's alchemists? Marvelous! Marvelous! I must obtain you for the Truth Association to study. You are the key we need to create our very own homunculi!"

Her expression remained unchanged, but internally, her disdain deepened.

Was he senile? Had he forgotten he was being hunted? And to think he believed his tacky monocle lent him an air of sophistication.

Amena's left hand, already shaped into a blade, extended further. Her right hand followed suit, morphing into another weapon. This was the hallmark of high-quality homunculi: the ability to transform any part of their body into a weapon of choice.

"I have been ordered to bring you in alive if possible," she said coldly, "but killing you is an acceptable alternative."

The alchemist's confidence faltered slightly as realization dawned.

"So, you serve the vampire from earlier?"

"No," she replied firmly. "I serve another. You will meet her when I capture you."

The alchemist's mind raced. He knew he was in grave danger and had no illusions about his chances in a direct confrontation. Escape was his only option, but for that, he needed an opening. Deciding to stall, he initiated an attack.

With a tap of his foot, sharp rocks erupted from the ground, aiming to impale her. Simultaneously, he waved his hand, conjuring metal pillars that flew toward her with deadly precision.

Amena moved like a machine, her motions calculated and efficient. She sliced through the rocks and pillars with her bladed hands, her body flowing with mechanical grace. Each step, each swing, was a testament to her Esper ability: Calculus.

This power allowed her to process vast amounts of data in real time, predicting the trajectory of attacks and optimizing her movements to counter them flawlessly.

The alchemist gritted his teeth as his initial assault failed. He conjured another wave of sharp metal shards, sending them spiraling toward her in a chaotic flurry.

Amena sidestepped and spun, her bladed hands a blur as they deflected the projectiles. Sparks flew as metal met her weaponized limbs, but she remained untouched.

"You're wasting your efforts," she stated.

Her calm voice only served to unsettle the alchemist further. Desperation took hold as he activated another spell. This time, the ground beneath her feet began to glow with alchemical runes, threatening to explode.

Amena recognized the danger immediately. She leaped backward just as the ground erupted in a fiery blast. She landed gracefully, her uniform still immaculate despite the inferno.

The alchemist panted, sweat dripping from his brow.

"Why won't you fall?!" he spat, his voice laced with frustration.

Amena's eyes narrowed.

"Because I am not like you," she replied.

Her movements shifted from defensive to offensive. With a burst of speed, she closed the distance between them in an instant. Her left blade swung horizontally, forcing the alchemist to conjure a shield of hardened steel. Sparks flew as her blade met the shield, carving through it like paper.

The alchemist staggered back, fumbling for another potion. Before he could drink it, her right blade came down, slicing the vial cleanly in half. The liquid spilled onto the ground, hissing as it reacted with the snow.

"You've run out of options," Amena said, her tone icy.

The alchemist's eyes darted around, searching for an escape route. His hands trembled as he reached for another artifact—a small, crystalline sphere. He activated it, and a blinding flash of light erupted, momentarily obscuring her vision.

When the light faded, he was gone.

Amena scanned the area, her eyes narrowing as she detected faint traces of mana leading toward the edge of the alley. Without hesitation, she pursued, her bladed hands retracting as she prepared for another encounter.

She leaped onto a nearby rooftop, following the trail of mana through the snowy cityscape. The storm intensified, but it didn't hinder her. Her mind remained focused, her mission clear.

"You can run," she muttered under her breath, "but you cannot escape."

The hunt continued.