A sharp object pierced the ground near where Ayra had just been standing. She gasped, turning to see a longsword embedded in the wall.
“Illusion magic isn’t working on him!”
Considering that magic rarely worked well on mages or knights to begin with, this attacker was clearly highly skilled. But right now, escaping took priority over analysis. To amplify her illusion spell, Ayra summoned wind to stir up more dust and obscure visibility. Even under the effects of magic, this enemy had detected her presence and struck.
The Pebble had been flashing a system window for a while now, recommending she evacuate—but Ayra had ignored it. The issue wasn’t just her safety. Once the commotion broke out, members of the household would be rushing to her side. But she didn’t have the capacity to protect them all.
So Ayra immediately cast locking spells on all interior gates, including the inner keep’s main gate and the path to the courtyard.
The moment she did, another explosive bang roared from the gate. The assailant was attacking indiscriminately at any trace of movement or sound inside the dust cloud, unable to precisely locate Ayra’s position.
And then—silence.
Swallowing dryly, Ayra layered another defensive spell over herself. Soon, Bloom and the knights reached the inner gate and began shouting in confusion.
“Lord Ayra! My lord!”
Bloom’s urgent voice called out, followed by the sounds of him trying to force the gate open.
“I need to get out of here—now.”
Ayra created a rustling sound from the opposite flowerbed to divert the intruder’s attention. Only then did she finally glance at the stat window she had called up earlier.
The moment she confirmed the intruder’s identity, her eyes widened in shock.
She let out a faint, involuntary gasp—only to realize, too late, that the sound had given her away. She didn’t even have time to dodge. The next instant, a heavy force slammed into her entire body.
“......!”
If not for the defensive spell, it would’ve been a serious, maybe even fatal injury. The impact shattered her defense magic and sent her flying backward, crashing to the ground. Her palm stung—likely scraped against a /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ rock—but she had no attention to spare for pain.
Before she could even get back up, something rushed toward her out of the dust cloud at a speed too fast for the eye to follow.
Ayra instantly sensed it: this was an attack she couldn’t avoid or block. Gritting her teeth, she shut her eyes tightly.
But no pain came.
Puzzled, she opened her eyes—and there, right in front of her, was a fist clenched so tightly the tendons were bulging.
“...Ayra?”
A doubtful voice reached her ears. In that moment, she couldn’t help but feel relieved. She remembered his words: He kills other humans, but not his lover.
From the shadows, red eyes glinted with menace and suspicion. He didn’t even blink. Ayra, breath caught in her throat, dispelled the illusion magic and slowly reached out to touch the fist hovering just before her face.
Only then did the tension in the knuckles begin to ease.
“...Janus.”
Ayra called the name of the one who had come to kill her, her voice trembling.
And at that very moment—she realized something:
It wasn’t luck that had kept her safe this long.
It had only been the calm before the storm.