The sixteen guards stationed outside the bar went completely still as civilians burst out, screaming and stumbling, their faces drained of color from sheer terror.

  "What the hell is happening in there?" one of them shouted.

  Another guard pointed, his eyes wide with shock. "Look up! Isn't that blood?"

  They all turned to the balcony of the VIP section and thick drops of crimson were sliding down the railing, splattering onto the marble floor below.

  "Stay calm, boss Eijiro is still alive. Don't worry, he never dies."one guard urged, trying to mask the quiver in his voice.

  The others clung to those words like a lifeline. Even as their stomachs churned, that flicker of hope gave them strength. Eijiro, the immortal Eijiro, couldn't possibly be dead… right?

  But deep down, even the most loyal among them sensed that the hope they clung to had already drained out of that room.

  "Alright. Move. Now."

  "Yeah, let's go."

  Behind the counter, Assad and Taura crouched low, straining to hear every footstep and shuffle.

  "Wow, they really believe in their boss."Assad murmured.

  Taura smirked. "Yeah… I'm curious to see how that faith crumbles."

  One of the guards signaled to three others. "You three, go check it out."

  The trio nodded and stealthily made their way toward the stairs. The first to ascend was a young woman, her pistol shaking in her grip. Each creak of the stairs felt like it could be her last. The smell of blood intensified with every step. When she finally peeked over the railing, her body froze.

  Blood was everywhere,whether it was on the wall,the floor or the ceiling it was visible wherever the human eye could see.Fragments of men she once called comrades lay strewn about like butchered remains.

  Her knees trembled. Her eyes widened, refusing to blink.

  "Hey, what's wrong? You okay?" one of her partners whispered.

  She didn't respond. She couldn't.

  "Move it! You're wasting time!"

  "I— I'm sorry, I'll move—"

  Her voice was abruptly silenced by a single bang. A clean hole appeared in the forehead of the man standing behind her. He collapsed like a stone and the two remaining scouts stood frozen in shock.

  From above, a voice drifted down

  "My goodness, I might need to let the manager know I'll be tidying up this whole place once I finish my business," Mischa remarked, stepping out from the shadows. Her white maid gloves were splattered with red.

  The other guards below recognized her voice and raised their guns, panic flashing in their eyes.

  "Open fire!"

  But it was too late. Mischa's umbrella glimmered, unfurling into a ring of orbiting barrels that glowed with an otherworldly light. With a graceful flick of her wrist Six precise shots echoed and six heads jerked back resulting in six bodies crumpling to the ground. The two women from earlier screamed, diving for cover.

  She turned, her eyes calm, movements almost mechanical as seven more guards fell, each shot striking true like a divine decree.

  Now, only two female guards were left.

  "You two young ladies, you're far too young for this line of work. Bodyguards? Hm. No… you deserve a brighter future."Mischa said gently, lowering her umbrella

  The girls trembled, unable to utter a word.

  "I shall spare you both," Mischa decided, stepping over the fallen bodies as she made her way to the table. Her shoes made no sound on the blood-soaked carpet.

  She reached for the two briefcases one packed with the SAZ, the other stuffed with cash but suddenly froze mid-reach. Both were missing, her eyes narrowed in disbelief, footsteps echoed in the silence,calm. Measured as Assad and Taura stood in the middle of the wrecked bar, each clutching a briefcase, their faces obscured by the flickering lights.

  Mischa let out a sigh, her smile fading away. "Oh dear…"

  She lifted her umbrella toward the exit. A low hum began to fill the air then a blinding explosion ripped through the ceiling, the door and half the roof came crashing down, sealing off their escape. Assad and Taura had to stop as they made their way out of the place.

  "She really blocked our path, crazy to even ask but how did she even notice us?" Assad asked.

  "Damn it! We were so close and how the fuck should I know."Taura spat

  Dust and sparks swirled around them. Mischa stepped forward, her golden eyes shimmering under the erratic lights.

  "Leaving already? But the cleanup hasn't even started yet." she said, her voice laced with amusement

  The smoke hung thick in the air, glowing gold and crimson from the fading neon lights. Assad felt the crunch of shattered glass beneath his boots as he slowly turned to face Mischa.

  She stood there, perfectly still, an umbrella in one hand, her head tilted just slightly, eyes locked on the bodies like a hawk watching its next meal.

  Assad's heartbeat began to steady. Taura leaned in closer, her voice low but sharp.

  "What's the plan? Are we going to fight her or what?"

  He hesitated, his gaze darting from Mischa's poised stance to the collapsed door, then back to the umbrella, the very weapon that had just split the roof in two. "If we fight, it's a death wish," he murmured.

  Taura let out a breath through her nose, deep in thought. Then, without a moment's pause, she thrust both briefcases into his hands. "Then you're not fighting."

  Assad blinked in surprise. "What?"

  She flashed him that crooked grin, the one she always wore right before doing something reckless.

  "Every bar has a backdoor. Find it, get out, and keep those cases safe."

  He frowned, concerned creeping in. "What about you?"

  Taura took a step back, rolling her shoulders as her jacket slipped off her arms. The dim lights highlighted the contours of her muscles while she reached into her thigh holster and pulled out a curved blade, its silver edge glinting under the flickering neon lights.

  "Me? I'm just going to stall the maid." she said, spinning the knife playfully in her hand.

  "Taura "

  "Chill out." She shot a smirk at Mischa, who was calmly reloading her weaponized umbrella. "You really think I'm foolish enough to get killed here?"

  Assad tightened his grip on the briefcases. "You're dodging the question."

  Taura let out a low laugh. "You worry too much. Besides…this is going to be fun." Her voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "

  Assad's jaw tightened. For a brief moment, they locked eyes, no words, no emotions, just a silent understanding, then he nodded slightly.

  "Don't die," he muttered.

  She winked at him. "I wouldn't dream of it."

  Assad turned and started moving toward the back of the ruined bar, scanning for any sign of an exit. The floor was strewn with bodies and shattered furniture, but he moved like a shadow.

  Behind him, Taura cracked her neck, rolled the knife between her fingers, and whispered to herself, "Alright, maid. Let's dance."

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Mischa's hazel eyes sparkled as she stepped forward, her boots tapping lightly against the floor. The umbrella unfolded again with a mechanical hiss, several gun barrels circling around it like a deadly halo.

  "Ah, a volunteer." Mischa said softly, her voice cutting through the chaos.

  The smoke lingered heavily in the air, swirling around broken bottles and the deep red reflections pooling on the floor.

  Mischa stood at the heart of the room, her umbrella casually resting against her shoulder, as if she hadn't just taken down twenty men.

  Her hazel eyes flickered through the haze. "You're not one of them.So, tell me who sent you?"" she said softly, her calm demeanor only amplifying her menacing presence

  Taura tilted her head, intrigued. "Why would I share that with you?"

  Mischa offered a polite, almost sweet smile. "Because I'm giving you a chance to leave here alive. That… doesn't come around often."

  Taura let out a short, sharp laugh, fearless. "You really think I'm afraid of some crazy maid with a gun-umbrella?"

  Mischa's expression remained unchanged. "You think this is about fear? It's about necessity. Do you even know what's in those cases you're guarding?"She lowered her umbrella just a bit, her voice dropping to a chilling whisper.

  For a brief moment, Taura hesitated. Her brow furrowed, but she quickly masked it with another grin. "Not my concern and that's because my job is to keep my mouth shut."

  Mischa sighed, a hint of disappointment in her voice. "What a pity. You seem strong… but blind loyalty has always been humanity's downfall."

  That struck a nerve. Taura's grin faded, her tone turning sharp. "Funny coming from someone who calls another person 'master.'"

  For the first time, Mischa's eyes flickered with emotion; the silence that hung in the air was almost unbearable. You could feel the tension thickening, vibrating all around.The umbrella erupted unleashing a storm of bullets that rained down like a torrential downpour.

  Taura dove behind a battered table, splinters flying as she slid to the side the bullets tore through glass, ripping the bar apart in mere moments.

  "Looks like I hit a nerve!" Taura shouted, gliding across the slick floor.

  Mischa spun her umbrella with a flourish, smoke curling from its barrels. "You'll soon learn when to keep your mouth shut."

  Crouching low, Taura gripped her curved blade, and that's when it happened. Her eyes flickered with a faint orange glow and the knife began to hum.

  Mischa caught on right away. "Oh my."

  Taura grinned. "Looks like you're starting to understand."

  "Indeed, you're a Sionel, how intriguing. It also makes me wonder what part of the chain you rank at, " Mischa replied with a smirk.

  Orange energy surged down Taura's arm, crawling over the knife like molten lightning. The blade began to transform, the metal bending and expanding, the handle searing against her palm. The dull steel morphed into a massive cleaver, its edge etched with the fierce face of a roaring lion.

  The very air quivered.

  "I call it Lion's Fang."

  Mischa's eyes widened in awe. "Fascinating."

  Taura slammed her foot down, cracking the floor beneath her.

  "Yeah?Then pay attention, maid." She raised the blade, energy swirling around it like a tempest.

  With a powerful swing, Taura sliced through the air, and the world seemed to split apart. A shockwave burst from her blade, ripping through tables, chairs, and walls as if they were made of paper.

  Assad, racing toward the backdoor, turned just in time to witness the explosion behind him and the force of the blast nearly knocked him off his feet.

  "Holy hell!" he gasped, gripping the briefcases tighter. He leaped over a counter, shielding his face as burning wood and shattered liquor bottles rained down around him.

  In the midst of the chaos, Taura landed in a crouch. Mischa stood across the wrecked floor, a faint cut along her cheek the first indication she'd taken a hit. Her expression had shifted from anger to something colder.

  "You shouldn't have done that," Mischa said in a low voice.

  Taura flashed a grin, sweat beading on her forehead. "Why? Did I ruin your uniform?"

  The maid twirled her umbrella again, and this time, a halo of golden magic rings appeared around her.

  "No, you've just made me take this seriously,"Mischa whispered.

  Outside, the air was thick with dust and smoke. His lungs felt like they were on fire, his jacket torn, and he clutched the two metal briefcases as if his life depended on them.

  Behind him, the bar was nothing but a crater of flames and shattered glass. The sounds of grinding metal and distant gunfire still echoed inside.

  He doubled over, panting, his eyes wide. "Oh my gosh…why the hell did I even agree to this?" he muttered, glancing back at the chaos.

  He dropped the briefcases to the ground, wiping sweat from his brow.

  "Taura said it was just a pickup job! Simple! In and out!" His voice wavered between frustration and disbelief.

  He pointed toward the smoking hole that used to be a building. "Does that look simple to you!?"

  He started pacing, running his fingers through his hair.

  "Did Shuren know she could do that? Did Pixia?! Like hell, does she even know anything at all!?"

  He laughed nervously, almost hysterically. "No way am I going on a job with her next time."

  Assad suddenly froze because he heard something and the sound came from behind him. Before he could even turn around, the briefcases vanished. Snatched right out of his hands. Assad spun around, his heart racing, and caught sight of them.

  The two young female guards Mischa had let go earlier stood at the mouth of the alley. Bloodied and bruised, but very much alive.

  Their uniforms were torn, and their eyes burned with determination. One of them, trembling or maybe just scared, held up the cases like they were trophies.

  "Thanks for holding this, good sir."

  Assad's jaw dropped. "How the hell are you still—"

  "Alive? Guess she wasn't in the mood to kill everyone. Lucky us."the other one cut in, flicking a drop of blood from her cheek.

  Assad took a step back, raising his hands defensively. "Look, I don't want any—"

  "D—Don't be scared, we're not gonna kill you."the first one said.

  They turned and started walking toward the street.

  Assad clenched his fists, his pride urged him to do something, but every instinct told him to stay put. Then one of them glanced back over her shoulder.

  "If your little friend makes it out of that mess in there… tell her the shipment's ours now."

  The alley fell silent again as they melted into the night, their silhouettes swallowed by the flickering neon lights. Assad stood there, shoulders slumped, staring at the smoke still rising from the wreckage.

  He groaned. "...Shuren's gonna kill me