Eternal Undying Chronicles

Chapter 192: End Of The Opening Act



Amena stood amidst the carnage, surveying the shattered remains of the Strigoi she had annihilated. Their twisted carcasses were strewn across the ground, a grim testament to her precision and lethal efficiency. The area had been evacuated before the battle began, ensuring no civilians were harmed—not that their safety would have concerned her. Her focus was singular, her mission absolute.

She ended her conversation with Carrisa through the communicator, her tone brisk and efficient. The report was simple: Alicarde had relayed crucial information, and the alchemist she had been pursuing was now in the clutches of the Strigoi. The battle in the blizzard hadn't gone unnoticed, and the monstrous creatures had seized the opportunity to claim the alchemist, dragging him into the sewers.

Carrisa's response was measured, her usual calm confidence unshaken. Amena knew why. Carrisa had accounted for such an eventuality. During Elizalina Crimson's earlier skirmish with the alchemist, the vampire had done more than simply bind him with hemomancy. She had placed a tracker on him, ensuring he could never truly escape.

"The tracker remains active," Carrisa had said, her voice smooth and calculating.

"And now that Zagarath has him, we have a direct lead to the Strigoi's lair. This will bring us closer to our ultimate goal."

Amena nodded to herself as she disconnected. The faint flicker of Carrisa's confidence lingered in her thoughts.

Her mistresses foresight had proven valuable once again. Still, the stoic homunculus could not shake the sense of dread that accompanied her next steps.

"Once we find his lair… the battle will grow even fiercer."

She glanced down at the open manhole leading into the sewers. The stench of decay wafted up from below, mingling with the sharp metallic scent of blood still clinging to the air.

With a soft sigh, Amena turned away from the manhole, dismissing it from her mind. The battle underground could wait.

First, she needed to locate crucial information stored in Evergreen University's library. Carrisa's directive had been explicit: retrieve the knowledge, strengthen their position, and then deal with Zagarath.

She raised her wrist, tapping lightly on the device embedded in her glove. A holographic display flickered to life, casting a faint blue glow over her features.

The map showed the positions of their reinforcements, the Night Shades, still en route to Evergreen City. Their arrival would provide additional support, bolstering their chances in the coming war. But for now, Amena was on her own.

Satisfied with her assessment, she leapt from the building's edge, her movements fluid and graceful. The wind howled around her as she descended, landing silently on the street below. Without hesitation, she began her journey toward Evergreen University, her focus unwavering.

.....

Back at the hotel, Argint let out a frustrated sigh as she stood over yet another defeated alchemist. Blood dripped lazily from her sharp claws, pooling beneath the bodies of her fallen opponents. Despite the carnage, none of them were dead—just incapacitated.

She had little interest in wasting her energy on small fry who merely followed orders.

Her golden eyes narrowed as she glared at the unconscious alchemists. The thrill of battle had long since faded, replaced by an overwhelming sense of irritation.

"Seriously," she muttered, flexing her claws to rid them of the sticky crimson.

"If you're going to send fodder after me, at least send someone who can fight."

The thought of Elizalina Crimson, that smug vampire, only soured her mood further. Argint could already picture her bragging to Alicarde about taking down the alchemist leader before she could even get there.

The very idea of that horny and sluty bloodsucker boasting made her growl low in her throat.

"That dirty slut," she muttered bitterly. It wasn't jealousy—no, never that.

But she couldn't help feeling competitive, especially when it came to Alicarde's attention.

Her musings were interrupted by the sound of footsteps echoing in the hallway. Argint's ears twitched, her keen senses immediately picking up the approaching threat. She turned toward the noise, her annoyance giving way to mild curiosity as seven figures in alchemist robes emerged from the halls.

Her eyes scanned the group, noting their cautious movements and the weapons in their hands. Unlike the previous group, these ones radiated an air of confidence, their stances suggesting discipline and experience.

Argint smirked, leaning against the wall with a casual air.

"Please tell me you losers are worth something," she said, her tone dripping with mockery.

"Because if you're not, I'm going to be really disappointed."

The leader of the group stepped forward, a towering man with a burly frame that dwarfed the others. His sheer size and presence were imposing, a stark contrast to the scrawnier alchemists who had fallen before her. His robes strained against his massive build, and his cold, calculating gaze fixed on Argint with an intensity that made her grin widen.

"Battle formations!" he barked, his voice booming. The other alchemists immediately fell into position, their movements practiced and precise.

"This is a werewolf. Be careful—she's strong."

Argint chuckled, her eyes gleaming with predatory delight.

"Oh, look at you," she teased, eyeing the burly alchemist up and down.

"Quite the gorilla, aren't you? Why waste your time with alchemy? You'd make a decent knight in the Order."

The man remained calm, unfazed by her taunts.

"I am a Truth Seeker,"

Argint's grin widened, her fangs glinting in the dim light.

"A Truth Seeker, huh? Looks like you might actually give me a good fight."

"Let's see what you've got, big guy."

The alchemists drew their weapons, their tools glinting with a faint green light. The pungent smell of whitewood ash wafted through the air, sharp and unmistakable.

Argint's nose wrinkled at the scent, her smirk faltering for a fraction of a second. She recognized the substance instantly—deadly to creatures like her if used correctly.

"Whitewood ash, huh?"

"Smart move. Too bad it won't be enough."

With a flash of green alchemical light, the battle began. The alchemists attacked in unison, their movements coordinated and precise. Bolts of energy shot toward Argint, accompanied by sharp, glowing projectiles aimed to pin her down.

But Argint was faster.

With an acrobatic flip, she launched herself upward, landing gracefully on the ceiling. Her claws dug into the plaster as she moved fluidly between the walls, evading the attacks with inhuman agility.

The alchemists shouted commands to one another, trying to anticipate her movements, but she was a blur of motion, darting from one spot to the next.

She retaliated with a vicious slash, her claws raking through the air and forcing the nearest alchemist to stumble back. The man barely managed to parry with his weapon, the impact sending a jarring shock through his arm.

"Not bad. But you'll need to do better than that."

The burly leader stepped forward, his massive frame a wall of muscle and determination. He swung a glowing mace infused with alchemical energy, the weapon crackling as it arced toward her. Argint dodged effortlessly, her lithe body twisting in midair as she avoided the attack by inches.

"You're slow".

With a quick swipe of her claws, she aimed for his back, only to find her strike blocked by a shimmering alchemical barrier. The man turned, his expression grim.

"You underestimate us," he said. "Big mistake."

The alchemists pressed their advantage, their attacks coming faster and more coordinated. Argint found herself dodging and weaving through a barrage of glowing projectiles and searing alchemical blasts. Despite her speed, she could feel the strain of keeping up with their relentless assault.

"Finally, a challenge."

She leapt onto a nearby wall, using it as a springboard to launch herself at one of the alchemists. Her claws tore through his weapon, shattering it in a spray of sparks.

He stumbled back, clutching his now-useless tool, but before she could finish him off, the others closed in.

Argint spun, her claws lashing out in a flurry of precise strikes. She moved like a whirlwind, her attacks a seamless blend of speed and power.

The alchemists fought valiantly, their skills evident in the way they countered her every move. But they were only human, and their stamina began to falter.

The burly leader, however, was a different story. He fought with a level of strength and determination that matched her own, his blows powerful enough to make her take them seriously. Argint's grin never wavered as their battle intensified, the two of them trading blows in a brutal display of skill. Your adventure continues at My Virtual Library Empire

"You're tough, I'll give you that. But you're not going to win."

The man didn't respond. Instead, he lunged at her with a ferocious swing of his mace. Argint ducked under the attack, her claws flashing as she countered with a strike aimed at his legs. He jumped back just in time, his movements surprisingly nimble for someone of his size.

The fight raged on, the room a chaotic blur of alchemical light and werewolf fury. Argint's claws tore through weapons and defenses alike, her feral instincts giving her the edge she needed to stay ahead. The alchemists fought with everything they had, but one by one, they began to fall.

Finally, only the leader remained. He stood before her, his chest heaving and his mace glowing faintly in his grip. Argint tilted her head, her grin widening.

This battle was over.

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