Weapon seller in the world of magic

The irritation in his voice suggested that the disturbance to his sleep offended him more than the assault on the prison itself.

He dressed quickly and strode from the room.

The women hurriedly covered themselves and retreated to a corner, embracing one another like two birds sheltering from a storm.

In the corridor, Valamir encountered his two strongest subordinates, both hurrying toward him.

They bowed.

”Lord Valamir.”

”Lord Valamir.”

He waved away their courtesy with a growl.

”Enough. Tell me what is happening outside.”

One of them, Joren, spoke first. ”We do not know, my lord. We have not sensed any unfamiliar aura beyond the walls.”

Another series of explosions rocked the prison.

The floor trembled.

Dust drifted from the ceiling.

Joren frowned.

”It feels less like an invasion and more like a night raid.”

Valamir’s eyes narrowed. His anger sharpened into something colder.

A man may tolerate thunder in the sky, but he does not tolerate someone pounding on his door in the middle of the night.

”Joren,” he ordered, ”take the southeastern gate.”

”Yes, my lord.”

”Edrin, guard the northwestern gate.”

”Yes, my lord.”

Valamir clenched his fists, and ether surged around his body.

”I will go to the main gate. Whoever has come to disturb this prison tonight will regret awakening me.”

His voice dropped to a dangerous rumble.

*

Unlike Zion, who had vanished into the darkness atop the prison wall like a black hawk gliding over a battlefield, Kiara remained rooted near the shattered main gate, her boots planted firmly upon the scorched earth while she loaded warhead after warhead into the rocket launcher and sent them screaming toward different corners of the island.

Because she did not move from her position and because the flames from the burning forest cast restless orange light across the broken entrance, she was impossible to miss.

It did not take long for the prison guards stationed near the northwestern section to notice her.

A squad of twelve men rushed out through the side gate, their faces taut with alarm.

Four among them were five-star rank Spirit Warriors, while the remaining eight were four-star rank experts. Though they varied in strength, the expressions they wore were nearly identical. Their eyes were sharp, their jaws were set, and every one of them had already drawn a weapon.

In another place, in a palace or noble estate, an intruder might first be challenged.

Who are you?

Why have you come?

Throw down your weapon and surrender.

But Irontraz Prison was not a place where such courtesies existed.

A prison built to bury the most dangerous people in the world did not ask questions in the middle of the night, and atleast not when the attack on the prison had already happened.

The twelve guards spread out and charged.

Kiara watched them come, her face hidden behind the blank mask, her expression unreadable.

There was no fear in her heart. There was not even irritation.

Only calculation.

She knew they were within thirty meters.

Too close for rockets.

Too weak to warrant effort.

Her fingers loosened on the launcher.

”Lightning Clonem Activate,” she said softly, as if summoning a trusted friend to the dinner table rather than to a battlefield. Then, an order was passed a second later, ”Kill them.”

A crackle of blue-white electricity burst from her body.

Her clone appeared in a flash of violent light and lunged forward.

What followed happened so quickly that even Kiara’s enhanced senses struggled to keep pace.

For an instant, her vision blurred because of the mental link between herself and the clone. It was like watching a storm through human eyes. Her mind could perceive the destruction, but her ordinary instincts could not process the speed.

One strike.

One fallen guard.

Another strike.

Another body collapsed.

The clone moved through the squad like lightning, jumping from tree to tree during a thunderstorm, touching each target only once, yet leaving destruction behind every contact.

A fist struck a chest.

A palm shattered ribs.

A kick snapped a neck.

Within five seconds, all twelve men lay motionless upon the ground.

The battle ended so quickly that the echoes of their charging footsteps had not yet fully faded.

Kiara dismissed the clone with a thought.

The crackling figure dissolved into sparks that vanished into the night.

The brief activation had cost her only two seconds of usage time and 7 percent of her ether reserves, roughly 4,650 ether points.

She exhaled slowly.

For the first time since acquiring the skill, she had used her own power rather than relying on weapons or androids. A faint smile formed beneath her mask in satisfaction.

”So this...” she thought, flexing her fingers as if feeling the memory of the storm still dancing in her veins, ”this is what it means to carry my own thunder.”

She reloaded the rocket launcher but did not fire.

Instead, she stood still amid the smoke and corpses and watched the ruined entrance.

”Small fish are done,” she murmured. ”Now let us see whether the big fish bite the hook.”

About thirty seconds later, one of the three strongest experts stepped through the gate.

Joren, the six-star rank Spirit Warrior, emerged at a measured pace, but the moment he saw the bodies of his subordinates sprawled across the stone, his eyes hardened.

His gaze swept over the burning forest, the shattered gate, and finally the lone masked figure holding a rocket launcher.

His face twisted.

”Bastard.”

There was no warning.

No exchange of names.

No dramatic introduction.

Like a drawn arrow released from the bow, Joren shot forward.

Kiara’s eyes narrowed. ”Lightning Clone. Activate.”

The crackling duplicate appeared again.

Joren’s sword had barely begun its downward arc when the clone intercepted him.

Its fist met his attack.

Its leg whipped upward.

And the kick struck his chin with a sharp crack.

Joren’s body lifted from the ground.

Before he could regain control, Kiara gave a quick order.

”Do not kill him. Knock him out.”

The reason why Kiara needed them alive and not dead, because once she saves the king and leave this place, she expects the prison to operate as usual.

The clone obeyed instantly.

It leaped after him and drove a second kick into his abdomen while he was still airborne.

*Gaaah*

The impact sent Joren flying backward like a stone from a catapult.

He slammed into the prison wall, and as the stone cracked behind, his body slid to the ground.

Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth as he struggled to rise. He spat red onto the stone and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. ”Damn it,” he muttered, breathing heavily. ”This enemy is stronger than me.”

Eyes flickering with urgency, he pulled out a communication talisman.

Ether began to flow into it.

But the clone was faster.

Far faster.

Before the talisman could activate, the clone closed the distance and delivered a brutal kick to Joren’s thigh.

”Argh!”

His cry tore through the air as something in his thigh cracked.

The talisman slipped from his fingers.

The clone followed with a flurry of controlled strikes, each one targeting joints and limbs, reducing his ability to resist while sparing his life.

Bones cracked.

Armor dented.

Breath left his lungs in ragged bursts.

At last, Joren’s eyes rolled back, and he collapsed unconscious.

Kiara dismissed the clone once more.

She walked toward the fallen Spirit Warrior at an unhurried pace, the heels of her boots clicking against stone.

She crouched beside him and checked his condition.

Alive.

Severely injured.

Unconscious.

Exactly as intended.

She gave a satisfied nod.

”One down.”

Her gaze lifted toward the prison.

”I wonder how Zion is doing.”

Through her connection to the system, she sent him a brief inquiry.

At that same moment, on the southeastern side of the prison, Zion was locked in battle.

The scene there was entirely different.

Zion stood with Lux in hand, its blade glowing with holy radiance.

Facing him were two opponents.

The first was Valamir, the prison warden, his large body moving with surprising speed and force.

The second was Edrin, a spear wielder whose attacks darted in from the side like the strikes of a venomous serpent supporting a tiger.

”Ha!”

”Oraaaa!”

Their battle cries echoed as they attacked in relentless coordination.

Valamir sword came down with crushing power.

Edrin’s spear thrust toward the openings the instant Zion blocked.

The android gave ground step by step, parrying each attack with calm precision, searching for a way to break their formation without delivering a fatal blow.

In the middle of the clash, the system notification reached him.

Zion retreated a few paces with a burst of speed, narrowly avoiding the sweeping edge of Valamir’s blade, and sent his reply.

[Ding! Zion replies that he is in the middle of a battle with the spirit warrior named Edrin and the Warden of the prison, Valamir.]

Back at the main gate, Kiara frowned as she read the message.

”A two-front battle?”