From Master Assassin to a Random Extra: OP in a Dating Sim
Chapter 76: Cynthia (3)

Chapter 76: Cynthia (3)

Three lunged at her at the same time—one low, sweeping at her legs; another barreling for her chest; the last driving its trident straight for her face like a missile of shimmering death.

They came from different angles, converging with predatory precision, making it near impossible to glide away like she had with the others.

They were adapting.

Their movements were no longer robotic—they were learning.

’Three at once... what can I do?’ Cynthia thought, breath catching in her throat, her eyes wide as the deadly tips of the tridents gleamed closer, mere seconds from skewering her.

Panic threatened to rise, but something else burned hotter—resolve.

’Combustion magic...’

’Marcus showed the runic combination before...’

’I’ll try it.’

Her grip tightened on her wand.

She inhaled deeply, then snapped her wand downward beneath her feet, channeling the exact rune Marcus had shown her. The glyphs burned into her mind like freshly inked scars.

’But I’ll add my own twist to it!’

"Ringburst" she shouted, her voice slicing through the tension like a blade.

In an instant, a shockwave burst outward.

A circular explosion detonated around her in a precise ring—not a chaotic blast, but a calculated burst of controlled force. The watery constructs were flung into the air like ragdolls, their forms shattering mid-flight into misty arcs, while Cynthia remained untouched in the eye of the storm. Her chest rose and fell sharply, heart racing from the sheer gamble.

"...It worked!" she gasped, a smile breaking through her nerves.

Without missing a beat, she flicked her wand toward the three midair forms still recovering—easy prey.

"Winter Blast!"

A wave of icy mana burst forth, the beam catching them mid-fall. Their forms froze instantly—suspended in grotesque poses, their frozen limbs like twisted decorations of a watery graveyard.

Five left.

’This feeling...’

Her breath steadied as mana pulsed through her veins like lightning in water.

’Being able to use magic as much as I want... like there’s no limit. Is this how high-class mages feel?’

The remaining five charged with renewed fury, their forms blurring into one seamless wave of aggression. They moved as one, surrounding her, pressing in from all sides with lethal coordination.

But then—

Trearch’s words echoed in her mind like a bell tolling across eternity.

’Bleed your way to enlightenment.’

And in that instant, she understood.

A clarity unlike anything she’d felt before surged through her body.

Her fingers moved instinctively, tracing Marcus’s rune usage once more—only this time, with her own twist to it. The glowing sigils etched onto her skin like divine tattoos, wrapping her forearms and neck. Her eyes shimmered with sapphire brilliance as her own runes seared themselves into her irises—a personal mark of mastery.

She stood centered among the enemy like a maestro before an orchestra, their weapons raised—and she, the conductor of their end.

Then, the chamber itself responded, as though recognizing her evolution.

The floor beneath her feet glowed.

Ancient words rose into the air like vapor:

Water

Ice

Smoke

Rend

Runes of a long-forgotten civilization—awakened at her command.

Her hand spun midair, weaving the four sigils together into a spellform too intricate to have been learned—this was inherited. Buried. Now awakened.

Mana surged like a flood released from a dam. Her entire core ignited.

And then, the name left her lips—not remembered, but awakened from within like a primal roar.

"Haunting Dive!" she cried.

The runes detonated beneath her, absorbing every ounce of her overflowing mana.

Her uniform tore away in an instant, shredded by the violent pulse. But the water answered—not as an enemy, but as a servant.

Liquid tendrils curled around her body like living silk, rising up her legs and arms, reshaping her appearance with divine grace.

A deep azure coat, woven from pure flowing water, unfurled behind her like a cape of living tide. A white bodysuit formed as the water coiled tighter against her skin—slick, seamless, translucent around her abdomen like river glass, tapering into stockings that glimmered like moonlight through fog. The heels on her feet gleamed like sharpened blades—elegant, but deadly.

The transformation completed in a heartbeat.

The chamber shuddered.

The watery constructs collapsed into smoke without a sound, as if bowing to a higher force. The walls and ceiling trembled, and the currents raged—as if a hurricane now stood in human form, drawing the entire room to her will.

Then—

The figure reappeared, materializing before her once more. Its form rippled with reverence, the radiant gem in its forehead glowing brighter than ever.

"Descendant of the great Tyr Rein," it intoned.

It paused, as if seeing her fully now.

"Heir of the great Tyr Rein," it corrected, its voice layered with awe.

Then, as the gem pulsed once more:

"We welcome you, Princess."

The entire realm trembled, as if acknowledging her truth.

Then, the illusion peeled away. The ethereal water-world shimmered and faded, returning to the familiar crystalline chamber from before. The pedestal slid back into place with graceful finality, the earrings resting atop it like a reward long-awaiting its rightful owner.

The room stilled.

And a final voice echoed, gentle but absolute.

"You have completed your first trial."

Cynthia stood frozen, her breath catching as silence returned. The chamber had changed again, but she hadn’t. Not really.

Or had she?

Her fingers trembled slightly as she lowered her wand. Power still hummed beneath her skin—tamed, but not gone.

"Princess..." she whispered, testing the word on her lips.

It didn’t feel like a title. It felt like a promise.

A promise she didn’t yet understand... but one she was now bound to keep.

The earrings shimmered with an inner light, delicate and ancient. They weren’t made of metal—at least not anything Cynthia recognized.

One was shaped like a drop of water suspended mid-fall; the other, a curling spiral like a whirlpool.

As she approached, they pulsed in time with her heartbeat. Not objects, she realized. Symbols. Keys to something far greater.

But even in her triumph, her gaze drifted to the empty space behind her.

Marcus was still gone.

"Where are you..." she murmured. The victory felt incomplete without him.

Somewhere deep within the chamber’s walls, a distant pulse echoed—like a heartbeat underwater.

Faint. But not gone.