C132: Dhampir vs Proctor Cross

[“All Stagefarer here, Retreat is DISALLOWED!”]

A cold, absolute voice tore through the night.

“AGHHH!”

Instantly, Florence collapsed onto the ground, her knees striking the cobblestones. She clutched her head as agony exploded inside her skull.

Her vision blurred violently. It felt as though invisible needles were drilling directly into her brain!

“Curse you!” she hissed through gritted teeth.

‘Inspectors! They are here!’

‘This is a trap… specifically prepared for me!’

Realizing the depth of the deception, she glared at Jack with a murderous intensity.

The man was no longer running. He had stopped several meters away with that same maddening grin still plastered across his face.

Rage flared inside her.

Her figure exploded outward in a burst of dark mist, and a nest of bats erupted from her figure, shrieking as they scattered into the air!

‘[Bat Transformation!]’

“Na’, wind, heed my call and strike down my enemies!”

Yet, before she could even discern her surroundings in her fragmented bat form, a violent torrent of wind roared through the street like a miniature tornado.

The gale slammed directly into the cloud of bats. The swarm was shredded apart midair. Dozens of the creatures were reduced to a fine red mist in an instant.

“AGHH!”

The remaining bats condensed frantically, and Florence’s physical figure emerged once more, stumbling as she clutched her stomach.

Her once-pristine maid’s attire was now a tattered ruin. Her dress had been shredded, exposing the extent of her injuries: deep, weeping gasps marred her pale skin across her entire body. A deep cut ran across her abdomen, and two fingers on her left hand had been severed cleanly.

Figures began to emerge from the shadows of the surrounding buildings, their footsteps deliberate. Four figures in stark white attire, forming a loose circle around her.

Inspectors.

“SHAAA!”

She shrieked, as she raised her arm toward the one who had just attacked her. The girl with the strawberry-blonde hair and the sharp, predatory gaze, who was casually holding an arrowhead.

At the same time, a massive blob of dark red liquid erupted from Florence’s palm, flying toward Hazel with tremendous speed!

However, Hazel merely held the arrowhead aloft and swung her arm in a lazy arc, as if dismissively swatting away an annoying fly.

“Wind.” she whispered, hiding her face with one hand.

The instant the word left her mouth, compressed streams of wind sliced forward and shredded the incoming blood projectiles completely, tearing them apart before they could even approach her.

“...”

Florence narrowed her eyes, breathing in shallow, uneven gasps as blood dripped slowly from the wounds carved across her body. She was completely surrounded.

She scanned the perimeter, counting them.

Four of them. Two men, two women.

‘A Silver Sky stage of the Inspector Path, who possesses the ability to impose restrictions. The rest… they should be from the Preserver and Medic Paths, judging by their bearing.’

Florence bit her lip until the metallic tang of her own blood filled her mouth.

She had made a mistake, allowing Jack to goad her into exposing her nature in a lapse of judgment.

Victor had warned her about the Inspectors many times before. She knew how dangerous they were.

Yet when confronting that infuriating man, she had allowed irritation and impatience to cloud her judgment.

And she certainly had not expected to face them this early.

‘A restriction field is activated, rendering retreat impossible.’

Restriction. It was the most infamous and feared ability of the Inspector Path in the Silver Sky Stage.

It allowed the Stagefarer to dictate a localized rule that all within its influence had to follow. Any breach of the rule resulted in an instantaneous and excruciating pain.

While the punishment was not inherently lethal, since it inflicted no physical trauma, the pain was still unbearable to her.

‘This is vile.’

Even if restrictions could technically be bypassed simply by escaping beyond the field’s range, the overwhelming headache inflicted for violating the rule was enough to cripple her concentration.

Combined with her injuries and the numerical disadvantage, trying to forcefully flee now would be suicide.

“Four against one,” Florence snarled bitterly toward the white-clad figures. “What manner of cowardice is this?”

“It’s four against three, miss. Please do not miscount.”

A man standing in one corner replied, his voice calm and polite.

“...”

Her irritation deepened further. He was counting her two fallen maids as part of her "force." But there was nothing she could do about it.

She was alone now. Unless she found a way to circumvent the rule, she could not "retreat."

“Retreat” was a dangerously vague term.

Because of its vagueness, the rule likely encompassed a broad range of actions. Running away. Moving backward. Attempting to disengage from combat. Perhaps even creating distance from them could qualify as a retreat.

‘What to do… what to do…’

Her gaze eventually settled on the woman standing furthest back.

The weakest link, she surmised. This was a timid-looking woman with long yellowish hair that seemed to glow even beneath the moonlight. Even in the middle of the night, her hair and her entirely white suit stood out, making her a beacon.

‘That’s it!’

The woman stood the furthest from the others, in the classic position of a Medic.

Historically, they were the most vulnerable members of any group, requiring constant protection and possessing the least offensive capability.

If Florence could wound that woman, injuring her severely, she might create the chaos she needed. She would then try her best to flee, accepting the throbbing pain as the price of survival.

They would have to stay and treat that woman instead of pursuing her immediately, giving Florence an opportunity to escape the restriction field despite the pain.

A Stagefarer on the Medic Path could heal their own wounds, certainly, but such a process required time and focus. They could use healing agents, but those, too, required a moment to administer.

It was a foolish plan. But it might work.

Besides, she had no other choice.

‘I must diminish the effectiveness of this Restriction field.’

“GRRR,” Florence growled. Blood still dripped from the cuts along her abdomen and shoulder as she reached into a hidden pocket of her shredded, blood-stained dress, withdrawing a small violet glass vial.

Without hesitation, she smashed it against the ground.

*Crack!*

The vial exploded instantly upon impact, releasing a thick violet mist that billowed outward, rapidly shrouding both herself and her enemies in a purple haze.

The four white-clad figures blinked, raising sleeves toward their faces.

Using that single moment of disrupted vision to her advantage, Florence snatched a small, crimson-colored bottle from another fold of her dress.

Violent Yan Essence.

She downed it in a single gulp, the burning liquid slid down her throat like molten fire.

Instantly, heat exploded throughout her body. Her muscles tightened. Veins bulged beneath her pale skin. Her heartbeat accelerated violently as the violent essence spread through her bloodstream, temporarily strengthening her physical capabilities.

She needed it. Once she violated the restriction by fleeing, the throbbing pain would likely become unbearable. She needed enough physical enhancement to force herself through it.

‘[Bat Transformation!]’

With the preparations complete, Florence transformed again. Her body burst apart into the swarm of black bats.

As expected. The restriction did not activate, as she flew directly toward her target, the woman holding the cane with a crosshead!

The mass of black shadows flew, spreading outward like a living net as they hurtled toward the yellow-haired woman. Tiny violet eyes gleamed from within the mass, their fangs bared and ready to tear out the woman’s throat before the others could react.

At the same time, Florence prepared another violet vial.

It was another vial of the Cold Yi Essence---The very violet mist that had already spread throughout the air.

It was the natural enemy of the Harmony Faction Stagefarers. It acted as a corrosive agent, weakening their abilities and reducing the effectiveness of the Inspector Path’s restriction.

Once she broke through their formation and injured the Medic, she intended to shatter the second vial as well, reducing the punishment further while enduring the pain long enough to escape the field entirely.

Then she would flee and hide inside the forest for some time, until the time of the Rite approached.

If she could incapacitate that Medic Path Stagefarer, create even a single opening in their perimeter, she would have had a chance to escape this predicament!

However—

The moment Florence neared the weak-looking woman, the woman calmly raised the cross-headed cane.

“Let there be light.”

“!”

A Cursed Artifact!

That woman possessed a cursed artifact!

A sphere of brilliant white light suddenly erupted upward, exploding directly in front of Florence’s multifaceted vision!

Florence was momentarily stunned, her thoughts halted. Her pupils dilated frantically as the sudden blinding brilliance engulfed her vision.

“AGHHH!”

Her eyes burned. White light flooded everything.

It was like staring directly into the light of a miniature sun.

The swarm of bats collapsed from the air. Bodies slammed onto the cobblestones as the transformation destabilized, forcing Florence back into her humanoid form. She crashed hard against the ground, clutching her eyes.

“N…NO!”

The violet mist gradually dissipated in the searing light.

She felt her surging strength deserting her, the essence of Violent Yan suppressed by the overwhelming aura of Harmony Yan. Her body became heavy and weak.

At the same moment, two authoritative voices rang out in perfect unison from the corners.

““[BARRIER!]””

Invisible force surged around her.

Before Florence’s blurred vision fully recovered, she felt solid resistance closing around all four sides of her body.

“!”

A cage of invisible barriers locked her into a tiny square of space.

Florence immediately punched them hard. Her heart was pounding with anxiety.

*BANG! BANG! BANG!*

The barriers did not even tremble.

She snatched up her stiletto and slashed at the air, but the blade only sparked and skidded as if striking reinforced steel.

Above her, a sphere of white light hovered in the air, a concentrated sphere of Harmony Yan energy. Under its influence, the lingering violet mist of Cold Yi essence was rapidly dispersing, and her Dhampir nature was heavily suppressed. Her strength weakened further with every passing second.

Her breathing turned ragged. She slowly raised her head.

Her eyes shifted upward toward the open night sky above the barriers.

‘The only way out… is the sky!’ her mind raced.

‘[Bat transfor—]’

“[Flight is disallowed.]”

“Gugh—!”

Before Florence’s figure could scatter into bats again, a sharp wave of pain struck her skull.

She clutched her head, staggering in place as her knees struck the cold cobblestones. The transformation was aborted mid-manifestation, leaving her human form shivering as her vision slowly cleared.

‘They changed the restriction!’ her mind shrieked.

According to what Victor had told her, a Silver Sky Stage Inspector could impose only one restriction at a time, and every restriction carried a long cooldown before it could be replaced.

‘Does that mean I can retreat now?’

Her thoughts raced. If Flight was the current restriction, then the previous restriction on Retreat must have been overwritten.

But even if retreat was now technically possible, it didn’t matter. Four invisible barriers surrounded her on all sides, enclosing her like a glass cage. She could not run nor fly away.

Two Preservers had created this prison specifically to keep her locked in place.

The only way for her to escape these barriers was to corrode them with the Cold Yi essence, but there was no chance the Inspectors would allow it.

Florence slowly raised her head, one hand still pressed against her stomach. Blood dripped from the corner of her mouth, staining her chin. Her body was a ruin of wounds, her maid dress shredded and soaked in red, her posture wavering from exhaustion.

She scanned her surroundings, her violet eyes darting wildly, searching for any chance of escape.

Yet, she found nothing.

The four figures stood at the cardinal points of her prison, statuesque and cautious. None of them came close. They simply watched from afar, their white garments luminous under the hovering orb of light.

‘No… I still have a chance.’ she told herself, her mind steadied slightly.

The fact that they trapped her alive meant something. They wanted information.

‘And when they attempt to chain me, Victor will come,’ she reasoned.

A fleeting doubt crossed her mind, but she dismissed it.

Victor was pragmatic, yes, but he was also meticulous.

He could not afford to let Florence fall into the hands of the Proctor Cross. If she were captured, the entire Rite of the Moon would be compromised.

Victor would have no choice but to act quickly. He would have to save her, or at the very least, silence her. Either way, he had to act.

The important part was that he would have to approach.

It was a stroke of luck that Victor had not yet reached the Golden Radiance stage; he could not yet exert enough influence over their shared bloodline to compel her heart to stop from a distance.

At most, he might attempt to ask the Maiden’s idol for help, but Florence doubted such a presence would answer him over something so trivial.

As those thoughts settled, a smirk appeared on her bloodstained lips.

“What is it that Miss Maid finds so amusing?”

A middle-aged man in white attire stepped forward, his expression stern and composed. He held a pipe in one hand, raising it to his mouth and inhaling casually, as though the scene before him were nothing more than an inconvenience.

He approached the barrier unhurriedly.

The night wind billowed his coat, making the white fabric ripple behind him. With his other hand, he adjusted his fez hat to keep it from being carried away by the breeze.

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