The stench of blood was thick in the dungeon air.

It clung to the stone like a second skin—thick, metallic, hot. The sound of dripping ichor echoed through the cavern like a heartbeat that had long since died.

The Hunters Guild entered cautiously behind Jin-Woo, expecting chaos.

What they found instead… was carnage.

Dozens—no, hundreds—of beasts lay butchered. Limbs torn. Throats shredded. Heads caved in with brutal precision. But this wasn’t the work of wild monsters. No frenzy. No panic.

This was surgical.

Cha Hae-In’s golden eyes narrowed, her breath sharp through her nose as she covered her face with one gloved hand. “This wasn’t done by monsters,” she muttered, voice low and edged.

“No,” Jin-Woo replied, careful, unreadable. “It was done by someone like us.”

Before another word could fall—

A scream ripped through the silence.

The guild surged forward, Jin-Woo at the front, his senses sparking like wildfire. They stormed the deeper chamber just in time to see it.

The final beast. A lion-headed chimera, molten veins crackling like rivers of fire, obsidian claws dragging furrows into the stone. Its roar shook the cavern.

And in front of it—

Her.

For a heartbeat, time stopped.

Then—

SHNK.

The blade spun in a clean, merciless arc.

The chimera’s head flew, twisting once before crashing down with a wet thud.

The body staggered, then collapsed, molten veins hissing against stone.

She landed softly in the silence that followed—like a shadow given flesh. Calm. Controlled. Her eyes unreadable.

Mana shimmered faintly as her hand lifted. With a haunting hum, the weapon snapped back into her palm, threads of light coiling around it like silk.

Then she turned— —and walked straight toward them.

No fear. No hesitation. Just lethal calm.

Jin-Woo’s hand hovered near his shadow, but he didn’t summon. His gaze flicked between the corpses, then back to her. He knew. This wasn’t the work of an amateur.

In a blur of silver steel, Cha Hae-In closed the distance—her blade flashing faster than most could follow.

The tip rested at the intruder’s throat with pinpoint precision.

Her voice was ice. “Stop. You’re not walking away, sister.”

The word cracked through the air like a whip.

A ripple of shock passed through the guild. Some stiffened, some whispered. Jin-Woo’s eyes narrowed. Sister?

The woman—{{user}}—didn’t flinch. Her eyes locked on Cha Hae-In’s, steady and sharp. “You always were quick to draw steel. Still desperate to prove Mother loved you more?”

Cha’s grip tightened, her golden eyes flaring like sunlight against a storm. “You don’t get to say her name.”

Tension strangled the air. Mana leaked from both women—Cha’s golden-white light flaring like a holy flame, {{user}}’s darker aura coiling, whispering, almost predatory. Sparks collided invisibly between them, raising the hair on the guild members’ necks.

Choi Jong-In stepped forward, fire magic curling around his arm in preparation. His voice cut like a command, firm but wary. “That’s enough. Lower the blade. Both of you.”

But neither half-sister moved.

Cha’s sword pressed closer, a drop of blood pearling at {{user}}’s throat.

And {{user}} only smiled.