Gunmage
Chapter 152: The one who moves twice

Chapter 152: Chapter 152: The one who moves twice

In the dead of night, amidst the hushed stillness of an enormous, sprawling graveyard, a manor stood like an ominous relic of forgotten times.

The Large building loomed with crooked spires and gnarled gargoyles jutting from its weather-worn walls.

Ivy crawled across its stone skin like veins on a corpse, and thick mist curled at its foundation like breath exhaled from the underworld.

Yet, behind its warped doors and beneath the cobwebbed chandeliers, the atmosphere was strangely warm, almost absurdly so.

Inside, by the fireplace, three figures sat in a cozy drawing room with tea, knitting, and a deceptive sense of peace.

"So, Madame Cross"

A calm feminine voice echoed,

"Why didn’t you attend the Grand Ball tonight?"

The elf dropped her knitting needles with a soft clink. Her amber eyes narrowed.

"Well, priestess, not everyone enjoys the company of that old hag Selaphiel."

The priestess chuckled.

"Old hag? Aren’t you quite old yourself?"

"Don’t compare me to that witch"

Cross said with a sniff.

"I’m barely three hundred."

"Ah. I see."

Xhi took a slow sip from her teacup, then paused. Without a word, she plucked three more sugar cubes from the bowl and plopped them in with a soft plop-plop-plop.

The elf’s eye twitched.

The door slammed open.

Lyra strode in with theatrical flair, arms flung high.

"Ahhh, I’m sooo bored."

Cross raised an eyebrow.

"Don’t you have a duel to be worried about? Shouldn’t you be ...training?"

Lyra scoffed.

"It won’t be a duel. It’ll be a beating. That old man doesn’t know what’s coming to him"

"I honestly don’t understand where your confidence comes fro—"

An enormous surge of mana cut her off.

Everyone froze. The air itself seemed to retreat in reverence.

"Was that—?"

Lyra began, but Xhi was already shaking her head.

She sighed.

"What is that fool doing now?"

"Does he need help?"

Lyra asked.

"As he is right now? Probably not."

"What are you two even talking about?"

...

"You failed."

Lugh’s voice rang through the grand ballroom like a judgment passed from on high. His aura flared. Wind magic coiled around his feet and back, hissing violently.

Then he vanished.

An extreme blur of movement, a sudden gust of wind—snap—and a beastkin’s head was severed in a clean, almost surgical arc. Blood traced a red line through the air like a painter’s final stroke.

Before the corpse hit the ground, Lugh was already upon the next, darting forward, his blade moved with impossible precision.

The beastkin barely raised its arms before they were lopped off at the elbows. The third slash split its body diagonally, the halves hitting the marble floor with a grotesque wet thud.

Only two

Lugh noted with an eerie calm as the rest of the beastkin had already gotten their wits about them.

Realized the trap had reversed, they had two choices, fight or flee.

They chose to fight.

A dozen shadows lunged at once under the trembling chandeliers. Lugh stepped in, twisted low, dragging his blade across the marble.

Wuth a perfect rising slash, it hit the ribs of the fastest, rending flesh and sinew. Screams erupted. He moved again—shoulder-first—smashing into another, breaking the formation.

Claws clashed with steel. Enchanted blades sparked violently.

A heartbeat later, two right arms flew through the air like discarded twigs.

The first managed to disengage with a gash down his side.

The second wasn’t as lucky. Lugh’s blade pierced straight through his heart, ending his life in an instantly.

The rest leapt back in alarm, landing in a wide, perfect circle around him.

"Advanced formation Red-3, huh?"

Lugh murmured.

Even now, his voice held that same clinical detachment.

He had gotten firsthand experience on most of their combat modes, their strategies and even habits from the beastkin he had erased. This wasn’t nearly enough to phase him.

As they struck their formation, chaos erupted elsewhere. Hidden assassins broke cover, targeting high-priority guests. Screams echoed. Silver cutlery became makeshift weapons, magic danced in the air like fireworks.

But Selaphiel, the royal guards, and the inquisitors moved swiftly to neutralized the threats, just as Lugh had warned.

Do not interfere. Beware of the humans.

They had listened. Had they stepped in when Lugh was surrounded, they would probably not be quick enough to react to the ensuing chaos.

Not that they were even planning on helping him after that earlier display of crushing pressure. If a human could command so much raw mana, then finding out the magic he could use wasn’t curiosity but necessity.

For such reasons Lugh doubted they would lend a helping hand until he revealed all his cards.

Perhaps that’s what he wanted—to force their inaction, to expose the plot.

Now, they all stood still. Watching.

Waiting to see what he truly was.

A beastkin tensed his feet, preparing to lunge.

But just then—

A hand exploded from his chest from behind, fingers curled around his still-beating heart.

Blood splattered across the polished floor in wide arcs as the attacker slumped, gurgling.

Behind him stood... Lugh.

Or rather, another Lugh.

This one was dressed in the crisp black-and-red officer’s uniform of the Ashborn Corps. His face, identical. His posture, precise.

His left sleeve was soaked in blood. A custom gold-barreled revolver gleamed in his hand.

The second Lugh raised it lazily to the right and fired without looking.

Bang.

The recoil snapped his wrist back sharply. A flash of light and smoke burst from the muzzle. A beastkin nearby dropped instantly, skull shattered like glass.

"That’s five down"

He said casually, striding forward.

He came to a stop beside the original. Now two Lughs stood in tandem.

One clad in pristine white priestly robes, stained red by design and the blood of his enemies.

He wielded a mesmerising longsword, looking less like a fighter, and more like a holy executioner in form and presence.

The other, a soldier, clean-cut, dressed in a standard charcoal black and red officers uniform, a living contrast of discipline and brutality.

"Vaelith, are you seeing what I’m seeing?"

The queen murmured.

"...Yes, Mother"

The royal guard replied.

The remaining assailants hesitated.

Was this an illusion? A twin? A projection?

Which was the real one?

But they had no time to ponder.

Both Lughs moved.

At once.