From Master Assassin to a Random Extra: OP in a Dating Sim
Chapter 80: Cynthia (6)

Chapter 80: Cynthia (6)

As the water sphere before Cynthia finally formed—perfectly stable, radiant, and gleaming like a polished crystal—she narrowed her eyes, a sharp light flickering within them.

She twirled on her heel, her wand gripped tighter than ever, newfound purpose coursing through her veins. The once-glittering orb now hovered just above her palm, pulsating with raw, elemental energy.

The ghouls had closed in. Too close now. Their cracked faces and hollow, thirst-hungry eyes locked onto her with an eerie desperation.

"You want water, right...?" she asked softly, her voice tinged with both pity and resolve. A strange, fleeting empathy passed through her expression—as if, in some twisted way, these ghouls were kin. Not in blood, but in suffering. In longing.

But that sympathy didn’t last.

Marcus is still fighting, she reminded herself, jaw clenching, the image of him soaked in blood and water flashing in her mind. He’s still holding the line alone...

Her expression hardened.

"Then I’ll give you all some water!"

She flicked her wand, and the air cracked with tension. The water sphere trembled for a split second before exploding forward in a torrent—a concentrated blast of high-pressure water, honed to perfection.

It slammed into the first ghoul—then the second—then the third.

But instead of resisting, instead of retaliating, they simply... crumbled.

As the liquid made contact, each ghoul disintegrated instantly—flesh unraveling like dried paper, bone turning to dust. Yet before fading completely, each one murmured a single phrase:

"Thank you..."

The voices—hoarse, broken, sincere—echoed across the battlefield like a prayer of release.

Cynthia’s eyes widened. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched them fall, one by one, the water’s touch acting not as a weapon—but a blessing. An ending.

And then she noticed something strange.

From behind her, the distant well—the same well she had seen earlier—was slowly drawing closer. Not walking, not moving physically, but being pulled forward, inch by inch, every time a ghoul turned to ash.

As if their purification was the key all along.

"Wait... were they the lock?" she whispered, glancing between the shrinking crowd and the slowly approaching structure.

Minute by minute, the water continued to flow from her orb, and minute by minute, the ghouls fell—reduced to nothing but grateful whispers and drifting ash.

Eventually, silence fell.

The last ghoul dissolved in a faint shimmer of dust, its voice—"thank you"—lingering longer than the rest. The sphere of water dimmed and faded, its energy spent.

And now... the well stood just a few steps away.

"Huh..." Cynthia blinked, dumbfounded. Her arms sagged with exhaustion as she stared at it.

"I didn’t think they’d go down so easily..." she muttered, eyes narrowing slightly.

Then her expression shifted, her lips curling into a faint, thoughtful smirk.

"Well, I guess this is a test after all... not a deathmatch."

She approached the well, placing her hand carefully on its stone rim. The surface of the opening was cold to the touch—eerily so, given the blazing heat around her. She leaned over, peering into the darkness within.

Black. Deep. Endless. Nothing reflected back. No bucket. No rope.

"What am I supposed to do next...?" she murmured, squinting. Her voice echoed faintly down the shaft, returning no answers.

She scanned the well for any mechanism—anything she could interact with—but came up empty.

"It doesn’t seem to have a bucket I can pull up either..." she muttered, frustration curling in her gut as the oppressive heat weighed down on her again.

Sweat trickled down her neck, her body still overheated from the earlier strain.

"Maybe... I should fill up the well?" she considered aloud, focusing again on the moisture around her.

With a slow, deliberate breath, she extended her hand once more.

The air shimmered.

Tiny droplets began to spiral toward her, pulled from the surrounding humidity, her skin, even the residual vapor in the air. A second sphere began to form—smaller this time, but still vibrant and pulsing.

Yet as it hovered mid-air, Cynthia’s gaze shifted.

Her throat was dry. Her lips cracked. Her tongue felt like sandpaper against the roof of her mouth.

She hadn’t even noticed until now—but her thirst had become unbearable.

"I almost forgot..." she whispered, staring at the glowing orb with parched, desperate eyes. "I was so focused on the trial... I forgot..."

Carefully, reverently, she guided a thin stream of water from the sphere to her mouth. It was cool, impossibly so—like drinking from the first spring after days in the desert.

"Haa!" she gasped, letting out a soft, grateful moan of relief.

She sank back down into the warm sand, letting the sensation of hydration and shade—however small—cool her from the inside out. For just a moment, she allowed herself to breathe.

But her eyes soon returned to the well.

"That problem’s still the well..." she murmured, now more lucid. "It would take a lot of water to fill it up..."

She looked around again—nothing but dunes and scorched wind. No reservoirs. No water sources. Just her.

"But nothing else is around me..."

Then something clicked.

Her eyes widened.

The ghouls... she thought. They turned to dust from a single droplet. What if the well is the same?

Hope flickered to life in her chest. Without hesitation, she pulled a single droplet from the forming sphere—just one, delicate and gleaming, suspended like a miniature star above her palm.

"This should do it," she said, heart pounding.

She dropped the bead into the well.

The moment it touched the surface, it froze—hovering an inch above, trembling like it had hit an invisible barrier.

Then the stone began to ripple.

Like a pond reacting to rain, waves of silver light spread outward. The barren, cracked interior of the well shimmered—and then, suddenly, it filled.

Instantly.

Crystal-clear water surged upward, brimming to the edge.

"Was that really it!?" Cynthia exclaimed, eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. "I was... overthinking it?"

She sighed—half annoyed, half relieved—as she glanced at the now-complete sphere still floating above her.

"But hey... at least I can use this for my own purposes now..."

She placed her hand on the orb, letting the water flow around her like a soft veil. It wrapped her gently, coating her skin, and in that moment—her outfit shimmered again. The faint, worn glow it once had returned, like the fabric itself had been restored by her element.

"Guess I’m set for now..." she chuckled, brushing damp strands of hair away from her face.

She stood up and turned back toward the well, her body more centered, her mind clearer.

Then she stared into the glistening surface—silent, thoughtful.

"Hopefully this is the end of this trial..." she said quietly, her voice barely more than a whisper as the wind began to stir once more.