Gunmage
Chapter 126: Smile of a beast

Chapter 126: Chapter 126: Smile of a beast

"Filthy humans?"

Lugh raised an eyebrow. It had been a while since he’d heard someone speak with that kind of venom.

A moment later, his suspicions were confirmed.

Her body quivered. Strings of saliva clung to her lips as her teeth elongated into short, predatory fangs.

Nails blackened and stretched into claws. Muscle and bone shifted grotesquely beneath her skin.

From behind her ears, two canine-like appendages unfurled. From her rump, a long bushy tail.

No wonder.

Lugh’s gaze sharpened. What stood before him now was unmistakably a beastkin—one of the shifter species.

Their humanoid appearances were never cloaked by illusion, but masked by their natural shape-shifting.

Wait... a beastkin?

His mind reeled. What was someone like that doing here? She’d arrived with the assassins, which meant... the implications were definitely not good.

Beastkin were rare this deep into human territory. Seeing one here meant strings were being pulled—deep, old ones.

It seemed humans and other races weren’t quite as isolated as he’d thought.

Well... at least she wasn’t an elf.

While Lugh processed this calmly, everyone else around him trembled.

A beastkin.

One of the shadows stepped forward instinctively, only to falter. No one wanted to admit it, but they had no idea how to fight a beastkin.

Isolde gritted her teeth. Her mana reserves were already thinning after the last exchange, she wouldn’t last long in a drawn-out engagement.

Once it came to a fight, it no longer became a question of is they were going to die, it was of when and how.

The smart move was to retreat. And that was if they could retreat. Nevertheless, they had to give it a try.

But just as she turned, the beastkin fished through her coat and plucked out a piece of jewelry—small and glinting in the sunlight.

An earring.

One of a beautiful emerald color. Isolde was familiar with it

Her breathing spiked.

"I got it from one of your daughters"

The beastkin said with a lazy, amused smile, letting the gem swing from her fingers like bait.

Isolde’s fist clenched. Her heart pounded. Most of the shadows still guarded her daughters.

Nothing could’ve gotten through right? Right?

Even as she tried to convince herself, her doubt chewed through the words. She bit her lip, hard. Just enough to draw blood.

"W-which one of them?"

She asked with a low, slightly quivering voice. The beastkin leaned forward, her exaggerated grin turning even wider.

"Ah, I got it some days ago. She resisted fiercely."

She began in a singsong voice.

"That only made the screaming sweeter."

Lirienne.

Isolde’s eyes widened in horror. Her composure cracked.

"It was you!"

The beastkin gave a mocking bow, then lifted her right arm, flexing her razor sharp claws as she added oil to the fire.

"Oh, and those weren’t knife wounds on her face..."

She said with a smirk.

"They were claw marks. What do you think of her new makeover?"

A surge of power exploded from Isolde. Her mana burned like a wildfire.

Debris nearby began to lift, trembling under her command—then crashed back down. Her focus was slipping. Her control shattered under the weight of rage.

She abandoned precision.

She charged.

"Madame, no!"

But she was already gone. Her figure vanished in a shimmer of distortion.

Camouflage.

The beastkin’s ears twitched. She raised her nose, sniffing. Isolde was coming from the left. But... she could also hear footsteps from the right as well.

A feint?

Not willing to take any chances, she stamped the ground with a heavy foot. The shattered tiles split, spiderweb cracks tracing out in all directions.

Stone and metal launched skyward, flying like shrapnel from a fragmentation grenade, creating a ring of death around her.

Isolde reappeared, forced back, her illusion dropped.

"Found you."

The beastkin lunged.

"Madame!"

One of Isolde’s shadows rushed forward to intercept, but it was too late. The beastkin’s claw sliced through the air—

—and was stopped cold by steel.

Lugh stood firm, one hand on his enchanted blade, the other steady at his side. The force of the blow didn’t even shift his posture.

Silence.

The beastkin blinked, thrown off for just a moment. He was still human, she could smell it.

So why...?

She slashed again. A second claw arced toward him—but it missed by a hairs breath. Gliding off smooth, too smooth for it to be natural.

She withdrew, alarm flickering in her eyes.

Lugh raised his longsword, resting it on his shoulders in an unfamiliar stance. Both hands gripped the handle. Pommel forward. Blade trailing behind like a predator’s tail.

"Hey, hey"

The beastkin said, trying to sound amused.

"You seem a bit different. But I don’t sense any magic from you. You seriously planning to fight me in close combat?"

Lugh’s grip didn’t tighten, but his stance shifted slightly. Not in fear, but in calculation. He’d seen beasts like her before, just not on this side of the kingdom.

She wasn’t bragging of course—she was genuinely confused.

Enhanced hearing, sharpened smell, low light vision and reaction times that defied reason.

Alongside enhanced speed and extraordinary strength, beastkin were known as apex predators.

Though their life span might be shorter than humans, their default abilities more than made up for it.

It also didn’t help that they were the most populous species on the continent.

Their magics were usually made to complement their absolutely broken physical abilities.

Fighting one in close quarters was suicide.

But Lugh had the combat skills and experiences of a thousand-year-old elf etched into his bones.

Today, he would test what that truly meant.

"A beastkin, huh?"

His voice was calm and level.

"If you’re so strong, why the schemes?"

She tilted her head.

"You infiltrated the manor. You could’ve snuck into her room"

His eyes flicked toward Isolde

"And killed her. Quietly. Clean."

The beastkin hesitated.

"W-well, where’s the fun in that?"

She offered weakly, trying to grin.

Lugh didn’t blink.

"You can’t, can you."

That hit. Like a bucket of ice.

Her smile faltered. Shoulders tensed.

"What are you afraid of?"

The question hung in the air, cold and heavy.

She crouched low. Muscles coiled.

Lugh glanced at Isolde.

"Get back."

Then—

—movement.

The beastkin launched forward. The ground exploded beneath her, tiles turning to powder under the force of her leap.

She flew like a comet. Straight at Lugh.