Halochassis

When Lireina stepped through the portal that had been opened to the slums, she expected to find the usual maze of crooked wooden houses, narrow alleys, and cramped streets. Instead, the moment she emerged on the other side, the stench of smoke and blood struck her so hard that she nearly staggered. Everything around her was burning. 

Flames crawled across the roofs of ramshackle homes, devouring old wood with a loud, hungry crackle while thick black smoke rolled through the streets and turned the afternoon sky into a dull, choking haze. Screams echoed between the buildings, mixed with the metallic clang of weapons and the thunderous explosions of fireballs. Bodies were scattered across the streets, some lying motionless in pools of blood while others had been crushed beneath collapsed stalls and burning debris. 

Adventurers moved from house to house without hesitation, kicking down doors and searching through the slums as though they were hunting monsters rather than people. Swords flashed in the firelight. Axes rose and fell. Arrows whistled through the smoke before burying themselves into fleeing civilians, and bursts of magical flame consumed anything caught in their path. The air was so thick with ash that Lireina could taste the bitterness of it on her tongue.

“This… this is madness,” Lireina muttered, her voice barely audible beneath the roar of the flames.

She forced herself to move, turning from one direction to another as she searched the streets. Her eyes darted across the chaos, desperately trying to locate Alexander Goldheart. Finding him should have been easy. Alexander was impossible to overlook under normal circumstances. His golden armor, radiant presence, and almost blinding appearance usually made him stand out even in a crowded battlefield. Yet among the smoke, flames, and terrified civilians, there was no sign of the man. Lireina narrowed her eyes and climbed onto a nearby rooftop, scanning the streets from above while embers drifted past her face. Nothing. No familiar golden armor. No distinctive silhouette. No Alexander.

“Where is he? Where is Alexander?” Lireina muttered, frustration tightening her voice.

She had come here with one purpose: to confront him and talk him out of this slaughter before more innocent people died. She understood that the Iron Bandits and the Halochassis were dangerous enemies, and she knew that destroying them would not be easy, but this was not justice. This was not a battle against an enemy army. These were civilians who had been caught in the middle of a conflict they never asked for. There had to be another way to bring down the Iron Bandits and the Halochassis without turning the entire slum into a graveyard. Alexander had always possessed enough strength and authority to end the threat, but this massacre was something else entirely. Lireina clenched her fists as she watched another building erupt in flames, her stomach twisting at the sound of terrified people crying from within.

Then her pointed ears twitched.

Through the roar of the fire and the chaos of the streets, she heard something much smaller and far more desperate.

“Mama! Help me!”

Lireina’s eyes widened.

Without hesitation, she leaped from the rooftop. Her boots struck the next building before she sprang again, moving effortlessly across the uneven rooftops as smoke curled around her body. Her cloak snapped in the hot wind, and loose pieces of burning wood dropped into the streets below as she raced toward the voice. She jumped over a broken chimney, landed on the edge of another roof, and immediately pushed herself forward again. The cry came once more, weaker this time.

“Mama! Please wake up!”

Lireina followed the sound into a narrow alley squeezed between two damaged slum houses. She landed lightly on the ground, but the sight before her made her breath catch in her throat.

A small child was kneeling beside a woman who lay sprawled against the dirt. The child’s trembling hands desperately shook his mother’s shoulder, but the woman barely moved. Blood soaked through her clothing and pooled beneath her body, its dark red color almost black beneath the flickering orange light of the surrounding fires. Tears streamed down the child’s face as he pleaded with her to wake up, his voice cracking with fear. 

A few feet away stood three adventurers, their weapons already drawn. Their armor was splattered with blood, and their expressions showed no hesitation or remorse. One held a dagger loosely in his hand while another rested his hand against the hilt of his sword. They had clearly been the ones responsible for the woman’s wounds, and now their attention had shifted toward the terrified child.

The three adventurers stepped forward.

The child froze.

Lireina’s heart pounded.

“Stop right there!” she shouted.

Her voice thundered through the alley, cutting through the noise of the burning slums. The three adventurers immediately looked toward her. The man holding the dagger stared for a moment before recognition flashed across his face.

“It’s the Untouchable Windwalker!” he exclaimed.

Lireina dropped from the broken ledge above them and landed firmly on the ground. Dust scattered beneath her boots as she positioned herself directly between the child and the three adventurers. She spread both arms wide, deliberately placing her body between their weapons and the frightened child. Her expression hardened, and the faint wind swirling around her seemed to sharpen with her anger.

“Leave the kid out of it. There is no way that a child is an Iron Bandit,” Lireina said, her voice firm enough to leave no doubt that she would not move.

The adventurer with the dagger frowned and glanced toward his companions. “But the Ultimate Dragon Warrior said that we should spare no one.”

“Kill everyone that moves,” another adventurer added coldly. “Everyone is hostile and expendable.”

Lireina stared at him in disbelief. Her fingers curled into fists as the smell of smoke and blood filled her lungs. Behind her, she could hear the child’s quiet sobs and the faint whimpering of his mother. The words of the adventurers made her blood boil.

“That is absurd!” Lireina cried. “A kid will never be as evil as the Iron Bandits!”

“But—” the first adventurer began, clearly preparing to argue.

Before he could finish, his companion reached over and gave him a firm pat on the back. The adventurer turned toward him, confused, only for the other man to slowly shake his head. The gesture was enough to stop the argument before it even began. He looked past Lireina toward the frightened child and let out a tired sigh, apparently unwilling to challenge the famous adventurer standing in their way.

“We should do what the Untouchable Windwalker says,” he said. “There is no way that kid is an Iron Bandit. He’s just a normal NPC.”

“Fine,” the adventurer said, his voice carrying a reluctant edge.

The three adventurers lowered their weapons and began making their way out of the alley. Their boots crunched against broken wood and debris as they disappeared into the smoke-filled streets, leaving Lireina alone with the grieving child and his dying mother. Lireina watched them go for a moment before releasing a slow, shaky breath. The tension in her shoulders finally loosened, though the sight of the blood-stained alley still made her stomach churn. She turned back toward the child and forced a gentle smile onto her face, hoping that a softer expression might calm him.

“Are you okay?” Lireina asked.

The child did not answer. He seemed not to have even heard her. His small hands continued shaking his mother’s body, growing more desperate with every movement.

“Mama… please. Wake up.”

Lireina’s smile slowly disappeared. She crouched beside them, the heat from the surrounding fires pressing against her skin while the sharp smell of smoke and blood filled her lungs. She immediately raised her hand and summoned her healing magic. A faint glow gathered around her fingers as she pressed her palm against the woman’s wounds, trying to channel every bit of restorative energy she could muster. For a brief moment, hope flickered in her chest.

Then she felt it.

Nothing.

There was no pulse beneath the skin. No warmth of life left in the woman’s body. The blood loss had been far too severe, and whatever healing magic Lireina possessed could no longer reverse what had already happened. The woman’s eyes remained open, staring blankly into nothingness.

Lireina’s hand slowly fell.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

The child finally understood what had happened.

“Mama! Mama!” he cried, his voice cracking as tears streamed down his cheeks. “Wake up! Please wake up!”

He wrapped his arms around his mother’s body and shook her again, refusing to accept what he was seeing. His sobs echoed through the narrow alley, painfully small compared to the roar of the burning buildings around them. Lireina felt something tighten inside her chest. She had fought countless monsters and faced dangerous enemies without hesitation, but there was something far more painful about watching a child mourn someone who had been taken from him for no reason.

Lireina gently placed a hand on the child’s shoulder.

“Let’s go,” she said softly. “I have to get you to safety.”

The child immediately recoiled.

“Get away from me!”

He violently knocked her hand away. Lireina froze as the child’s tear-filled eyes locked onto hers. There was no trust in them anymore. Only fear and hatred.

“You’re an adventurer too, right?” the child shouted. “Are you going to kill me? Just like what your fellow adventurers did to my mama!?”

“No, I—”

“Get away from me!”

The child shoved Lireina with both hands before scrambling to his feet. His face was wet with tears, his breathing ragged, and his little hands trembling uncontrollably. Before Lireina could say another word, he turned and ran deeper into the alley. His footsteps rapidly faded beneath the distant explosions and screams.

Lireina remained crouched where she was, staring after him.

For several seconds, she could not move.

She had expected the civilians to be afraid of the adventurers after everything that had happened, but she had not realized how deeply the slaughter had already scarred them. To that child, an adventurer was no longer a hero who protected the weak. It was simply another monster wearing human armor. Even Lireina, despite trying to help him, had become something to fear.

Her fingers slowly curled into fists.

The realization left a bitter taste in her mouth.

If this continued, the damage would not end with the destruction of the slums. Even if the Iron Bandits were defeated, the surviving civilians would remember the adventurers as murderers. Their fear would spread from one settlement to another, poisoning whatever trust remained between ordinary people and those who claimed to protect them.

“I have to stop this genocide soon,” Lireina muttered.

She rose to her feet and immediately sprang upward. Her boots struck the side of a building before she pushed herself onto the rooftops once more. She leaped from one roof to another, moving faster with every jump. The wind rushed past her ears as she crossed the burning district, while thick columns of smoke rose around her like dark pillars. Below, she caught glimpses of fleeing civilians, overturned market stalls, burning homes, and adventurers continuing their slaughter without mercy.

She climbed higher and higher until she finally reached one of the tallest buildings overlooking the slums.

Lireina landed on its rooftop and immediately stopped.

Her breath caught.

From her elevated position, she could see an entire section of the slums below—and the devastation taking place within it.

There, surrounded by blood and shattered bodies, was her own ally.

Qinglong.

The Ultimate Dragon Warrior was in the middle of a rampage.

His long green ponytail whipped violently behind him as he moved through the streets with terrifying elegance. His green dragon spear flashed through the air in sweeping arcs, its blade slicing through anything unfortunate enough to stand in his path. Civilians screamed and scattered in every direction, but Qinglong showed no hesitation. Every swing of his spear was followed by the wet sound of flesh being torn apart and blood splattering across the walls and streets. The metallic stink of blood mingled with the smoke until the entire area reeked of death.

Lireina’s eyes widened.

“Qinglong…”

Several Iron Bandits attempted to intercept him. They charged from different directions, weapons raised, desperately trying to stop the Ultimate Dragon Warrior before he could advance any farther.

It made no difference.

Qinglong moved like a dancer.

One sweeping strike sent an Iron Bandit crashing into a burning wall. Another thrust pierced an enemy’s armor before the man could even finish raising his weapon. A third tried to attack from behind, only for Qinglong to spin around and strike him across the chest with such force that blood sprayed across the street.

None of them were remotely capable of matching him.

All Qinglong had to do was swing his spear, and another body fell.

“Give me Azazeeeel!” Qinglong roared.

His voice shook the surrounding buildings.

He marched forward through the carnage, his boots splashing through puddles of blood as smoke curled around his body. 

Ahead of him, an Iron Bandit had already lost both of his legs. The wounded man dragged himself desperately across the ground, using his hands to pull his broken body away from the approaching warrior.

“Please… wait…”

Qinglong showed no mercy.

He raised his green dragon spear.

The weapon came down with brutal precision, piercing straight through the man’s back and into his spine. The Iron Bandit’s body jerked violently as the spear forced him against the ground.

“Aaaargh!” the bandit screamed.

Qinglong leaned closer, his face twisted with rage.

“Where is Azazel!?” he demanded.

He wrenched the spear free, sending another spray of blood across the stone.

“Where!?”

The wounded bandit could barely breathe. His fingers clawed weakly at the ground as Qinglong stood over him like an executioner.

“Tell me where Azazel is!”

“I don’t know!” the bandit cried, his voice trembling with desperation. “Nobody knows his real name! We only know him as Azazel!”

Qinglong stared down at him, his expression twisting with fury. For a moment, there was only the crackling of nearby fires and the ragged breathing of the wounded man. Then Qinglong’s face hardened.

“You’re useless!”

His boot came down. The bandit’s brain and skull shattered to a million pieces. Lireina flinched at the sickening sound that followed. The bandit’s struggle ended instantly, leaving only silence beneath the roar of the burning slums. 

Qinglong pulled his foot away and continued walking as though nothing had happened. His green ponytail swayed behind him, and his spear dragged against the ground for a moment, its blade leaving a thin, dark trail across the stone.

He did not stop.

His fury had consumed whatever restraint remained in him.

Qinglong continued his rampage through the slums, attacking anyone unfortunate enough to cross his path. Adventurers and civilians alike scattered before him, screaming as they desperately searched for somewhere to hide. He pursued them without distinction, his eyes fixed on only one goal: finding Azazel.

Then his attention fell upon a pregnant woman trying to escape through the burning streets.

She stumbled over a piece of broken timber and nearly fell. One hand instinctively moved toward her swollen stomach while the other desperately pushed aside debris blocking her path. She looked back over her shoulder and saw Qinglong approaching.

Her face went pale.

“No…”

Qinglong caught up with her.

Lireina’s eyes widened as she watched from a distance. What followed was so horrifying that her body seemed to freeze. Qinglong attacked the woman without hesitation, leaving her helpless on the ground before violently tearing apart the life she carried. The woman’s screams were swallowed by the surrounding flames as Qinglong committed an act so monstrous that even the other adventurers nearby hesitated to look.

Lireina felt her stomach turn.

For several seconds, she could do nothing but stare.

This was Qinglong.

The same man she had fought alongside.

He had always been narcissistic, hotheaded, arrogant, and prone to solving problems with excessive force. He could be incredibly difficult to deal with, and his temper was legendary among their companions. But there had always been a line he would not cross.

Now, that line had disappeared.

Lireina had heard what happened at West Cape Beach. Azazel had killed Qinglong’s girlfriend, and ever since then, Qinglong had been obsessed with finding him. She could understand grief. She could even understand rage. She knew that losing someone precious could make a person do things they would normally regret.

But this was no longer grief.

This was no longer revenge.

This was evil.

Lireina’s hands trembled as she stared at the devastation surrounding them. Burning homes. Bloodstained streets. Terrified civilians. Children running through smoke while the very people who were supposed to be heroes hunted them like prey.

Qinglong had become indistinguishable from the monsters he claimed to fight.

“I have to stop him,” Lireina whispered.

Her fear quickly hardened into determination.

She spotted Qinglong farther down the street, chasing several children who were desperately fleeing through the ruins. The children stumbled over broken stones and debris, crying for their parents as Qinglong steadily closed the distance between them.

Lireina vanished from the rooftop.

A gust of wind erupted through the street.

In the blink of an eye, she appeared directly between Qinglong and the fleeing children, her boots scraping across the ground as she came to a stop. Her cloak billowed behind her, and her silver hair whipped around her face from the force of her arrival.

“Lireina,” Qinglong muttered.

She did not look at him. Instead, she glanced over her shoulder at the terrified children.

“Go!”

The children hesitated for only a second. Then they ran.

Their footsteps echoed through the narrow streets as they disappeared behind a burning building, leaving Lireina and Qinglong facing each other in the middle of the ruined slums.

Qinglong watched them escape, his expression darkening.

“What are you doing, Lireina?” he asked. “Why are you letting them go?”

Lireina slowly turned toward him.

“Those children have nothing to do with your girlfriend’s death, Qinglong.”

Qinglong’s grip tightened around his spear.

“But they might know where Azazel is.” His voice was disturbingly calm. “I don’t care whether they’re Iron Bandits or not. I need information about Azazel. That’s all that matters.”

He stepped toward her.

“So get lost, you stupid bimbo.”

Qinglong attempted to walk past her, intending to continue his pursuit of the fleeing children.

Lireina immediately reached out and grabbed his arm.

“I won’t let you, Qinglong.”

Qinglong stopped.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

The fires crackled around them. Ash drifted through the air like black snow, settling on Lireina’s hair and armor. Somewhere in the distance, another explosion shook the buildings, but neither warrior looked away from the other.

Then Qinglong’s eyes narrowed.

Without warning, he twisted his body and swung his spear.

The green blade flashed through the smoke.

It stopped inches from Lireina’s throat. Lireina’s breath caught.

Qinglong’s expression was no longer that of an ally confronting another ally. It was the expression of a predator who had finally decided that she was standing in his way.