Halochassis

Zerova woke with tears clinging to the corners of her golden eyes. Her chest rose and fell in uneven breaths as if she had been running through the darkness, yet the dream that had shaken her so deeply slipped away the moment she reached for it. It left behind nothing but a strange ache in her heart and a lingering sense of grief she could not explain. 

She slowly pushed herself upright and glanced at the wooden clock hanging on the wall. Its steady ticking echoed through the silent bedroom, the hands pointing at four in the morning. Outside the window, the world was still wrapped in darkness, with only the faint glow of distant street lamps peeking through the curtains.

She pulled the thick blankets from her wide, comfortable bed, the fabric still holding the warmth of her body. With practiced hands, she smoothed every wrinkle from the sheets and fluffed the pillows until everything looked neat and orderly. It was a small habit she never neglected, no matter how exhausted she felt. Once satisfied, she quietly left the bedroom, her bare feet brushing against the cool wooden floor as another peaceful day officially began.

The early morning air carried a chilly bite that crept through the house, causing Zerova to shiver. She stepped into the bathroom and turned the faucet, waiting until clouds of warm steam filled the room before stepping beneath the hot shower. The heated water washed over her shoulders and back, easing the stiffness from her muscles while droplets rolled down her pale skin. After drying herself, she stood before the mirror and brushed her teeth in silence, listening only to the gentle dripping of water. 

Her reflection stared back at her. Her striking golden eyes still shone brightly despite her fatigue, while her pale complexion made the dark circles beneath them easier to notice. She untied her long black ponytail, letting her silky hair fall freely over her back before combing it. As the strands slipped through her fingers, she frowned at the growing number of split ends near the tips.

Her petite frame looked almost childlike despite her age, making her nearly as short as the Silent Warlock himself. Because of her height, she could only use the lower half of the large mirror to inspect herself. Her soft black cat ears twitched absentmindedly while her long tail lazily swayed behind her, revealing her mood more honestly than her calm expression ever could. She gently touched the skin beneath one eye before releasing a quiet sigh.

”I guess I’m getting not enough sleep nowadays,” Zerova muttered to herself, her voice barely louder than a whisper in the quiet room.

Once her morning preparations were complete, Zerova shifted into the role she treasured most. She gently knocked on the bedroom door before opening it, revealing two small figures curled beneath their blankets. Moby and Remy, her beloved human-kittens, were still sleeping peacefully, their tiny ears twitching every now and then. The delicious aroma of breakfast would soon lure them from bed, but for now she softly rubbed their heads until they slowly opened their sleepy eyes. While the boys headed to the bathroom to wash themselves, Zerova walked into the kitchen and began preparing breakfast.

The magical technology stove ignited with a faint blue glow beneath the frying pan. Strips of bacon sizzled loudly as their savory aroma quickly filled the house, followed by the rich scent of freshly cooked eggs. The comforting smell drifted through every room, making the small home feel warm despite the cold morning outside. 

Moby, already six years old, proudly handled most of his morning routine by himself. Remy, only five, still struggled with simple tasks. After finishing their baths, he frowned while trying to squeeze his foot into the wrong shoe. Zerova knelt beside him with a patient smile, gently turning the shoe around before helping him slide his tiny feet inside. She tied the laces into neat little bows while Remy giggled happily.

Soon, the three of them gathered around the dining table to enjoy breakfast together. Warm sunlight slowly crept through the windows as dawn finally arrived, painting golden streaks across the wooden floor. Laughter echoed through the cozy home while forks clinked against ceramic plates. 

Moby excitedly talked about a race he wanted to win during school recess, while Remy proudly announced that he had learned a new song from his teacher. Zerova listened to every story with gentle smiles and occasional laughter, asking questions that encouraged them to keep talking. Before long, their conversation shifted toward the family trip they had planned for the mountains that coming weekend. The boys eagerly debated which snacks they should bring and whether they would see wild rabbits or colorful birds along the hiking trails.

Their conversations wandered from one cheerful topic to another, covering nearly everything that crossed their curious minds. They spoke about school, games, animals, funny dreams, and even which desserts tasted the sweetest. Only one subject remained untouched. Whenever either of the boys innocently asked what their mother actually did for work, Zerova answered with the same calm smile she had perfected over the years.

”I teach wealthy families in private,” she would always say.

The explanation was simple enough to satisfy children, even though it was far from the truth. She hated lying to them, but the life she lived beyond these walls was one they could never know.

After walking her sons safely to school and watching them disappear through the academy gates, Zerova remained standing there for a few quiet moments. The warmth that had filled her heart during breakfast slowly faded as she turned away. The gentle mother vanished, replaced by someone far colder. Her peaceful morning had come to an end.

Her destination was the Blacklight District of Luminous City, a lawless neighborhood bordering the sprawling slums. The streets there were stained with years of crime and corruption. Gambling dens, illegal merchants, smugglers, and hired killers conducted business openly beneath flickering magical street lamps. The air carried the mixed smells of cheap alcohol, tobacco smoke, sewage, and freshly spilled blood, creating an unpleasant scent that lingered over every alley. 

Most citizens avoided the district entirely, especially after hearing rumors of the Iron Bandits expanding their influence. Yet Zerova walked through those dangerous streets without the slightest hesitation. None of the criminals dared block her path, and even the Iron Bandits were not enough to make her retreat.

Before leaving home, Zerova had stopped beside the garbage pit behind her house and retrieved a soaked burlap sack she had hidden there overnight. The damp fabric felt heavy in her hands, and faint drops of dark liquid seeped through its fibers. Without showing any emotion, she slung the sack over one shoulder before pulling on her hooded assassin’s cloak. The dark fabric concealed her face, her ears, and even the gentle mother who had just shared breakfast with her children. Every step toward the Blacklight District buried that identity a little deeper.

Deep within the district stood a rundown tavern known only to those who lived in the shadows. Its crooked wooden sign swayed with every passing breeze, while muffled conversations and rough laughter leaked through its walls. To ordinary people it was nothing more than a shabby drinking establishment, but beneath its surface operated one of the city’s underground Assassin’s Guilds. High-paying contracts, political assassinations, and bounty collections were quietly arranged inside. Zerova had visited the place many times before, earning enough coin from its missions to provide a comfortable life for her sons. Carrying the wet sack in one hand, she pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped inside.

The tavern instantly fell quieter as several patrons glanced toward the hooded woman before quickly returning to their drinks. Behind the counter stood the guild clerk, a heavily muscled man with a tall mohawk. He lazily cleaned the dirt from beneath his fingernails with a dagger, barely acknowledging her arrival. Zerova approached without saying a word and placed the heavy sack onto the wooden counter. The dull thud echoed across the room. She loosened the rope and pulled the opening apart just enough for its contents to become visible.

”What’s tha... ew! Get that out of here!” the guild man shouted, immediately recoiling as his face twisted in disgust.

”This is Duke Lucious’ head,” Zerova replied calmly, her voice completely devoid of emotion. ”I am here to claim the bounty on him.”

”Okay, okay, no need to take him out of the sack. I believe you,” the guild man said, raising both hands with a grimace. The foul odor leaking from the wet burlap was already enough to convince him. Holding his breath, he crouched beneath the counter and returned with a heavy leather pouch that jingled with the unmistakable sound of gold coins. He tossed it onto the wooden countertop, where it landed with a satisfying thud. ”Here. Pleasure doing business with you.”

Zerova silently picked up the pouch and weighed it in her hand. The familiar weight told her the payment was complete. Without another word, she left Duke Lucious’ severed head inside the sack and tied the rope shut once more. She slung the unpleasant burden over her shoulder as if it were nothing more than ordinary luggage before walking deeper into the Assassin’s Guild. Her footsteps echoed softly against the worn wooden floor until she reached the large bulletin board where the Empire’s most wanted criminals were displayed.

Dozens of parchment sheets covered the board from top to bottom. Some were stained with old rainwater, while others had fresh ink that still carried its sharp scent. Every poster bore a rough sketch, a list of crimes, and an amount promising riches to anyone capable of bringing the target in dead or alive. 

Most of the highest bounties belonged to corrupt dukes and duchesses who had abused their authority, orchestrated massacres, trafficked slaves, or embezzled enormous sums from the empire. These nobles were the kind of prey Zerova hunted regularly. They hid behind castles, bodyguards, and political influence, believing themselves untouchable. Yet sooner or later, every one of them found themselves staring into the eyes of the Shadow Queen before taking their final breath.

Her gaze slowly climbed higher until it reached the very top of the board.

Four enormous bounty notices dominated the center, dwarfing every other poster around them. Their rough charcoal sketches depicted towering armored figures whose monstrous silhouettes alone were enough to make ordinary people uneasy. Above each illustration was a single name written in bold crimson ink.

Azazel.

Samael.

Mastema.

Armaros.

Each carried a reward exceeding ten million gold coins, a fortune large enough to buy noble estates or even fund a private army. The posters looked newer than the rest, as though they had been replaced several times already after countless bounty hunters failed to return. Even the air around those notices seemed heavier, weighed down by the countless lives they had claimed.

That price is justified, Zerova thought.

The memory of the battle at the Northern Fortress resurfaced vividly. She could still hear the deafening roar of explosions, feel the violent shockwaves rattling her bones, and remember the terrifying speed of those living suits of armor. She had crossed blades with them herself, and she knew better than anyone that even one Halochassis was enough to rival her in both speed and strength. It was the first time in many years that she had met opponents capable of keeping pace with her.

More disturbing than their physical power was the one thing that made them nearly impossible to assassinate.

Her Autonomous Death does not work on the Halochassis.

The curse that ended lives the instant her blade touched an opponent had failed completely. Every clash of steel should have meant certain death for the enemy. Instead, the Halochassis ignored her absolute ability as though it had never existed. That single realization unsettled her more than any wound she had received during the battle.

Just what the heck are these Halochassis? Zerova wondered.

She recalled everything Lireina had shared after their encounters. Every Halochassis possessed its own terrifying specialty, making each one a completely different nightmare to face.

Samael possessed adaptable wings that could transform to suit any battle. One moment they formed an enormous sword capable of cleaving through fortresses, the next they became an overwhelming energy cannon, and moments later they shifted into blazing thrusters that allowed hypersonic flight. It was an armor built for versatility, capable of changing its role in an instant.

Mastema reminded Zerova the most. It specialized in silent assassinations, swift executions, and anti-magic weaponry that could nullify even the strongest spells. Facing it felt disturbingly similar to fighting another version of herself, except one wrapped in an indestructible shell of metal.

Armaros was a walking fortress. It absorbed magical energy and converted it into overwhelming power before transforming into a colossal dragon capable of devastating entire battlefields. Every attack against it only seemed to make it stronger.

Azazel, meanwhile, wielded pure energy itself. It conjured barriers durable enough to withstand legendary spells, forged swords from condensed light, and freely reshaped those constructs into whatever the battle demanded. Its control over energy was so refined that every movement looked effortless.

Together, the four Halochassis stood at the very peak of the food chain.

They even killed the Silent Warlock.

Cattleo had been one of the legendary Celestial Wardens, a prodigy whose magical power was feared across the continent. No demon general had ever managed to slay him. No kingdom had dared challenge him directly. Yet he had ultimately fallen at the hands of what the empire dismissed as a group of lowly bandits.

The irony was almost laughable.

”If only I could get a lead on their whereabouts...” Zerova murmured beneath her breath, her tail swaying thoughtfully behind her.

At that exact moment, the entrance door to the Assassin’s Guild creaked open.

A cool breeze swept into the tavern, carrying the scents of damp stone and the busy streets outside. Zerova remained facing the bounty board, lost in thought, until fragments of a conversation drifted across the room. One particular sentence instantly caught her attention, causing both of her cat ears to perk upright.

”Good morning. I’d like to submit some information regarding the Halochassis.”

The speaker was an adult man with a calm, educated voice.

”Oh, great. It’ll be nice to get an update for once,” the guild clerk replied lazily while continuing to polish his fingernails with the tip of his dagger.

The word Halochassis immediately erased every other thought from Zerova’s mind.

She slowly turned away from the bulletin board, her golden eyes narrowing with curiosity. Standing before the counter was a young man who looked no older than a teenager, yet an aura of an experienced elder. He wore neat scholar’s robes instead of armor or adventurer’s gear, making him appear strangely out of place inside a guild filled with killers and bounty hunters. His neatly kept black hair framed a composed face, while a pair of striking crimson-purple eyes calmly surveyed the room. Despite his youthful appearance, there was an unusual confidence in his posture, as though he had walked into a den of assassins without the slightest hint of fear.