Gunmage
Chapter 149: White fire, black smoke

Chapter 149: Chapter 149: White fire, black smoke

Lugh thought he was prepared enough. He was confident he could survive any encounter—and do so without revealing much of his true ability.

But the beastkin was fast. Far faster than he’d anticipated.

Too fast.

He almost couldn’t react in time.

Just as he resolved to make a move, willing to sacrifice a chunk of flesh to evade, the air in the hall shifted.

A terrifying pressure descended like a collapsing sky, crushing in its weight, but only for a moment. It vanished as quickly as it came, like a presence viewed from a great distance, here and gone in a blink.

Lugh froze.

Then, the attacker ignited.

A violent whoosh drowned the murmurs. White fire erupted from the beastkin’s skin, licking outward in an unnatural blaze. Oily black smoke poured from his body, cloaking the scent of charred flesh with something worse: burning blood, melting eyes, hair and fur fused into an ashen crust.

His scream was swallowed in the smoke as his throat closed, his lungs filled, and the fire devoured every breath he might’ve had.

In seconds, there was nothing left of him but a warped skeleton.

The blackened figure hit the floor with a dull thud.

Lugh slowly turned his head, searching the stunned ballroom. Someone had released that crushing aura, and he was curious enough to find out who.

His gaze swept the silent crowd, then stopped on Draque’sill. Through the right lens of the Mawglass, Lugh caught the shape of something vast and ancient looming behind him.

A shadow, too large for the hall, too deep for reality.

He looked directly at Draque’sill.

The man gave a slight nod.

Ah

Lugh thought.

I see.

And now, he finally understood Selaphiel’s wariness. Draque’sill wasn’t human, not even close.

The room broke into chaos. Guards and nobles stirred. The remains of the attacker twitched, and reverted. The blackened figure shifted back into its true form. Animal-like ears, a charred tail, it was another beastkin.

Younger children, still too green to know the mysteries of the world, were quickly ushered out of the ballroom, past the smoldering stench and lingering embers.

Maids led them to a common area filled with snacks, toys, and distractions. They would not see what had happened. They would be spared this much.

The flames were gone now, but what remained was little more than a mound of blackened soot, soaked in silence.

Vaelith’s voice echoed beside him.

"Is that all of them?"

Lugh didn’t look at her.

"No"

He replied.

"But I think the rest have gotten the message."

The dance was over. Blood had been spilled in the palace halls. The ballroom was no longer a safe haven. And now that the assassins had been revealed as beastkin, nobody would dare to stay. His plan had worked.

He moved to leave—only to be intercepted.

Not by the Queen, but by what appeared to be journalists, crowding him with pens and books.

"Mr. von Heim, how do you feel about the attempt made on your life?"

As expected. Most here knew about magic. Those who didn’t would likely not survive the coming days unless they found a house or organization willing to shelter them.

These reporters weren’t ignorant, they knew exactly what had just occurred.

How did he feel?

Ecstatic, of course. He had caused

this. But he wasn’t about to say that aloud. In fact, he had no obligation to answer anything at all.

He prepared to brush them off.

Then—

One of the "reporters" lunged. The blade was already buried in his abdomen before the others registered the movement. Hot blood dyed his white robes.

Lugh had seen it—felt it—moments before it happened.

He jumped back in alarm.

A second attack.

The projection registered before it happened. From the back, another beastkin.

Too close for him to react.

"Vaelith!"

His cry was answered in an instant. There was a flash, and a wall of ice burst up around him with a shriek of splitting frost.

Wind howled like a banshee, followed by screams, high and short-lived.

When the frost receded into the ground, Lugh was left blinking in the silence. One journalist’s corpse lay mangled, still leaking steam.

Another beastkin knelt nearby, groveling, his legs severed from his body.

He was still alive.

Intentionally, no doubt.

"Lady Selaphiel! What is the meaning of this?! Why are there beastkin at the ball?!"

The cry echoed, sparking murmurs and accusations.

Magic shimmered in the air as others drew power to their fingertips. The atmosphere strained, tight as a wire.

Lovainne remained seated, unmoved. His gaze was darker than the blood on the floor. Two royal guards appeared beside him in a silent instant.

Another pair appeared beside the Second Royal Concubine and her daughter. Her son was already gone, escorted with the younger guests to safety.

The Von Heims would ensure their protection.

The Church inquisitors advanced next, cloaked in black and red, answering Draque’sill’s silent command.

Some trembled, but Lugh noticed something else. Not all trembled from fear.

A few shook with excitement.

Lunatics

Royal guards split across the hall, forming a shield around their sovereigns. Vaelith had already returned to the Queen’s side.

Noble houses—D’aramitz, the Mornveils, the Cross family, House Caldreth, and more—formed clusters, pulling their own into tight orbits.

Including Victor who had been released days prior and his family, the Aelhursts.

Outsiders gathered where they could. ilindependent sorcerers, mercenary leaders, criminals, unaligned guests.

They tried to form makeshift groups, but none were stable. With beastkin still hiding among them, no one trusted anyone.

The Mawglass pulsed red.

The Canines had not clustered. Instead, they’d scattered among the outsiders, never putting all their operatives in one place.

A wise decision, under normal circumstances.

But not when Lugh was here.

Seventeen remained.

He hadn’t acted before because of their numbers.

Some had died, but a full-on engagement would risk forcing the rest to group up, and if they launched a coordinated strike, no one would be safe.

Not even him.

And worse, they had human operatives too. Some strong, realm of Anchor strong, maybe even higher.

Others were mundane humans with no mana signatures at all. Invisible to mages in a high stake battle. Impossible to sense until it was too late.

This wouldn’t do.

The last attempt on his life had come far too close.

He’d planned to leave quietly. To provoke without retribution.

But if they wanted his life so badly...

He exhaled.

Then there would be bloodshed this night.