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Chapter 245 – The Last Family
Chapter 245 – The Last Family
The night was thick with mist, swirling like phantom hands through the abandoned streets of Valefor’s inner district. This was the final step. The last hunt.
Seraphis stood at the rooftop’s edge, her silver hair gleaming beneath the moon’s pale glow. Below, the towering Aurelius Manor loomed in the darkness—a fortress of wealth, power, and bloodstained legacy. The last of the Valefor family resided within, their influence stretching across the underworld like a spider’s web.
Tonight, that web would burn.
She exhaled slowly, adjusting the metal cards in her hands. Her silent blades. Her fangs in the night.
With a flick of her wrist, the first card vanished into the shadows.
The hunt had begun.
A Silent Infiltration
The manor’s guards were well-trained, but Seraphis was an assassin forged in the abyss. Their formations were solid—but flawed.
A figure patrolled near the west gate. His stance was relaxed, one hand resting lazily on the hilt of his sword. A mistake.
Seraphis moved like a whisper, her presence nothing more than a passing breeze.
A flick of her wrist—a card sliced through the air.
The guard gasped, his body stiffening as a thin line of crimson traced across his throat. He fell without a sound.
One down. Many more to go.
Shadows in the Hallway
The interior of Aurelius Manor was a labyrinth of luxury and deception.
Velvet carpets muffled footsteps, and chandeliers cast golden light across marble floors. But behind that elegance lurked monsters in human skin.
Seraphis moved swiftly, her mind calculating every step.
A guard turned a corner—her blade was already there.
Another reached for his dagger—her card severed the tendons in his wrist.
She was the storm in the darkness, the inevitable fate they never saw coming.
Then—a whisper in the air.
Seraphis spun, barely dodging the dagger aimed for her spine.
The assassin who had struck wore a mask of bone-white porcelain, eyes hidden behind its hollow gaze.
Not a guard. A killer.
This was no ordinary hunt. They were waiting for her.
Duel in the Bloodstained Hall
The masked assassin lunged, twin daggers slicing through the air. Fast. Precise. Deadly.
Seraphis blocked with a flick of her metal cards, the clash of steel ringing like a discordant melody.
A step back. A feint. A counterstrike.
The masked one was relentless, a whirlwind of silver and shadow.
But Seraphis was faster.
She ducked under a strike, planting a boot against the assassin’s knee.
A crack. A grunt.
The porcelain mask tilted—a brief opening.
Seraphis took it.
Her card shot forward, embedding deep in the assassin’s throat.
A moment of silence—then a lifeless body collapsed to the floor.
One more obstacle removed.
But time was running out.
The Grand Chamber
At the heart of the manor stood an ornate door twice her height, lined with veins of gold.
Beyond it lay Lysander Valefor.
The last of his wretched bloodline.
Seraphis exhaled, pressing her palm against the door.
It creaked open.
Inside, a man sat upon a throne of obsidian and bone.
His hair was like spun silver, his eyes a piercing blue that held no fear.
Lysander Valefor.
A man who had shaped the underworld with his cunning, who had ordered the deaths of thousands with a mere nod.
And now, he smiled.
"I’ve been expecting you."
Seraphis tightened her grip.
The final battle had begun.
The Dance of Death
Lysander moved like a ghost, his rapier a streak of light in the dim chamber.
Seraphis met his blade with her own, her metal cards clashing against the deadly finesse of his strikes.
A thrust—she dodged.
A parry—she countered.
He was a duelist, refined and deadly, but she was an assassin, a shadow given form.
Their weapons blurred through the air, each clash sending sparks across the marble floor.
Lysander smirked as their blades locked.
"You're good."
Seraphis pressed forward.
"You're dead."
The Final Gambit
Lysander changed tactics, retreating into the shadows.
Seraphis narrowed her eyes. A trap.
She stepped forward cautiously—the floor collapsed beneath her.
A hidden pit, lined with razor-sharp spikes.
But she was faster.
Her metal cards latched onto the walls, suspending her midair.
From above, Lysander laughed.
"Impressive. But this is where your story ends."
He aimed his rapier downwards—ready to strike.
Seraphis launched herself up, flipping midair.
Her card caught the edge of his blade, deflecting it just enough.
She landed beside him, their faces inches apart.
For the first time, Lysander’s confidence wavered.
Seraphis struck.
Her blade pierced his heart.
A single gasp—his body fell limp.
The last of the Valefor family was no more.
A Mission Complete
The flames rose high behind Seraphis as she walked away from Aurelius Manor.
The final remnants of that cursed bloodline reduced to ash.
The night air was cool against her skin, the weight of countless battles still lingering on her shoulders.
But she had done it.
One final hunt. One final kill.
And now—
She vanished into the darkness.
A shadow with no past.
A ghost of vengeance.
And the world would never know her name.