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”Well then, why don’t you tell us where—” The man’s couldn’t finish his words.

Esabella’s arm moved. too fast for the human eye to track.

The scarred man stared at her, He brought a trembling hand to his neck. Blood immediately erupted, spraying violently between his fingers.

He collapsed like a felled tree, choking on his own blood.

For two agonizing seconds, the hall was paralyzed. No one understood what had just happened. Then, the hunter beside him snapped out of his daze, yanking a jagged dagger from his belt. ”Bitch!” he screamed.

Esabella didn’t flinch. She stepped fluidly inside his guard before his arm could even descend. With a single, elegant sweep of her hand, she tore his chest, shredding through leather and flesh in one clean, sickening tear. He dropped his weapon, collapsing to the floor with a gasp.

The third man—the one who had laughed the loudest—spun on his heel, his face pale with terror as he tried to bolt for the exit.

Esabella materialized behind him. She caught him by his armor, halting his momentum instantly, and yanked him around to face her.

”You said you would take his head,” she murmured, her voice sounding incredibly gentle and sweet.

”I... I didn’t mean it! I swear to God, I was just—”

”But you said it,” she whispered, her eyes locking onto his with an intense, unblinking fixation. ”You let the thought exist in your mind. That is an unforgivable sin.”

She closed her hand, and the sound of snapping bone echoed through the corridor. Three corpses now littered the pristine floor. Every single hunter in the room was backing away, scrambling backward as fast as their legs could carry them, terrified to make even a shred of noise.

Esabella stood in the center of the carnage, her chest rising and falling slightly. Her cloak had fallen open, and her hands were dripping red. Slowly, deliberately, she turned her gaze toward the remaining crowd.

Some men had turned entirely translucent with fear. Others had dropped their swords, their hands shaking. A young boy near the pillars was weeping silently, pressing both hands over his mouth to muffle his sobs.

”The rest of you,” Esabella announced, ”only watched.”

Nobody dared to breathe.

”Go.”

The word acted like a starting gun. They fled, trampling over one another in a frantic, desperate stampede to escape the monster in the cloak.

Within ten seconds, the hall was utterly abandoned. She carefully wiped the blood off her skin using the interior of her cloak, then turned and walked toward the grand exit.

Behind her, hidden in the shadows near the courtyard gate, a young girl stood completely frozen. She had witnessed every single second of the slaughter. Her terrified eyes locked onto Esabella’s retreating figure, tracking her until the doors closed and she was gone.

Esabella slipped into a suffocatingly alleyway tucked behind the guild hall. She slumped down onto a wooden crate, suddenly exhausted.

She buried her face in her blood-stained hands.

For a long time, she remained motionless. The dormant core resting deep within her chest gave a single agonizingly slow throb, like a dying ember.

”Dante,” she whispered into her palms.

”I broke rule four. I know I did. You told me there would be no second chances, and I know you never lie to me. I’ll accept whatever punishment you choose. I won’t beg for mercy. If you want to strike me down, I will gladly offer you my neck. I only...”

She paused. ”They put your name on the wall,” she whispered fiercely to the shadows. ”They dared to claim you abandoned your people. I know it’s a lie. I know you would never. You’re the only person who has ever looked at me and seen me, not a weapon, not a monster. You told me not to touch you, and you meant it because you are pure. A man like you doesn’t leave anyone behind.”

”I will kill everyone who wants to hurt you”

Then, she stood up. ”I will find you,” she vowed, her voice steady and absolute. ”And when I do, I will confess everything to you. I will lay my sins at your feet, and you can decide exactly what to do with my life.”

With that, she stepped out of the alleyway, her heels clicking as she marched directly toward the iron lift leading to Floor Two.

On Floor 34, Dante abruptly came to a halt.

He stood at the intersection of a desolate, cobblestone street, A sudden chill raced up the back of his neck—a sensation, as though someone had screamed his name from a vast, unfathomable distance.

He glanced around sharply, his eyes scanning the rooftops and shadows. Nothing. A lone merchant cart rolled past in the distance. A stray bird flitted down to rest on a brass streetlamp.

Strange, he thought, his brow furrowing.

He dismissed the feeling with a brief shake of his head and resumed his stride.

Two blocks ahead, a pair of Radiant Dawn couriers were stationed outside the doors of a tavern, speaking in hushed, urgent tones. One of them held a reinforced, magically sealed metal briefcase tightly against his chest, while the other was rapidly counting a stack of high-denomination coins.

”Another direct transfer order from the top,” the first courier muttered, glancing nervously down the street. ”They want the cat-kin relocated to the thirty-sixth floor transit cells by midnight sharp.”

”The cat-kin? You mean the tracker?”

”The very same one Elena dragged in last week. Lord Marcus wants her secured in the upper tier before the rest of the factions catch wind that she’s still drawing breath.”

Dante stepped deep into the shadow of a stone archway, exactly ten paces away, blending seamlessly into the dark.

His eyes narrowed into dangerous, icy slits.

Beneath the fabric of his coat, his fingers slowly closed around the invisible, cold hilt of his sheath.

’Midnight’, he thought, a lethal calm settling over him. ’I have until midnight.’