CHAPTER 143: 143. TIED

We moved out of the previous kill zone before anyone else caught wind of the massacre. No sense sticking around after fireworks—you don’t wait for the cleanup crew. You disappear before they know what happened.

This new place we ended up in? Just as ruined. Twisted rebar poking through shattered walls, broken furniture tossed around like some giant had a tantrum mid-furnishing, and dust clouds that made my lungs second-guess every breath.

Still, there was enough cover here. The architecture had collapsed in just the right way—enough debris to duck behind, but not so much that we couldn’t move fast if shit hit the fan.

Which, knowing my luck, it absolutely would.

I tried to sense the surrounding mana. Keyword: tried.

Nothing.

I grunted in annoyance. My mana sensitivity was absolute garbage. Like trying to smell a flower with a broken nose. No matter how much I squinted, focused, held my breath—I couldn’t feel shit unless it was punching me in the face.

But apparently, Kaelira was decent at it.

She crouched beside a broken chair, fingers brushing along its splintered leg like she was doing forensic analysis on a crime scene.

"Someone was here," she muttered. "Twenty minutes ago, tops. They used wood-element mana—this chair wasn’t broken like this before. The break pattern’s fresh. Too clean. Not from force, but from erosion."

She blinked.

Then blinked again.

Her body tensed.

And in that heartbeat, I understood it too.

This wasn’t just a coincidence. It was a setup. A baited hook—and we bit.

We were in a trap.

My eyes narrowed to slits. Every sense in my body snapped awake. I scanned the environment—carefully this time. Not just the walls, not just the terrain, but the skyline. The places I would hide if I were a coward trying to pick someone off from a distance.

And sure enough—there he was.

Perched on the far side, atop a crumbling apartment complex that looked like it had been dropped from orbit and glued back together with duct tape and prayers.

A bowman.

Flame enchantments glowed along the limbs of his weapon, even from this distance. His hair—a mess of fiery red that looked like it had been struck by lightning and styled by chaos—was the only thing louder than the smug grin plastered across his middle-aged, balding face.

Old man archer. Flame user. Smug bastard.

Our eyes locked.

He smirked.

And pulled the bowstring.

FWOOOSH.

A flaming arrow zipped through the air, the trail a streak of molten orange cutting through the dust.

I sighed.

Honestly?

This was getting repetitive.

I clasped my hands together, fingers interwoven like I was about to pray. Except I wasn’t praying—I was calling.

Calling the ambient mana around me.

And this time, it answered.

The air shimmered. Threads of amethyst lightning sparked into existence, hissing like snakes in heat, wrapping around my hands like loyal pets.

I copied Isolde’s technique—her puppetry control—and forced it into my own shape.

Thin strands of mana, sharp and alive, surged forward. They intercepted the flaming arrow mid-flight. Not just blocked it—caught it. Wrapped around it like webbing, twisting it into nothing, disarming its momentum and turning it to ash.

But I wasn’t done.

Not even close.

The strings moved.

They raged forward, alive with vengeance, surging in a tight arc that traced the path of the shot back to its origin.

Straight toward the smug bastard on the rooftop.

His expression changed the moment he felt it. That little smile dropped. Panic crept in.

He turned. Ran.

Too late.

My lightning threads struck the ledge where he’d just stood—hard. The rooftop dented with a loud CRACK, a jagged fissure erupting along the concrete, chipping the edge like brittle stone.

If he’d hesitated a second longer, he’d be extra crispy.

I smirked and turned back to Kaelira, who had taken cover behind a wall during the chaos. Her head peeked out, brows raised, cautious.

"You can come out, you know," I called, voice light, like this was a walk in the park. "Not that bad. Guy’s gone. Probably pissing himself somewhere safe."

She checked again before stepping out. Always so careful.

Dusting off her clothes, she gave me a nod. "Good job. Even if you’ve got fewer kills, you’re... surprisingly useful when you aren’t talking."

I raised an eyebrow, but didn’t reply. Just gave her a smile.

Because I knew.

We’d see who had the most kills in the end.

Let her have her fun.

For now.

I shrugged. "Let’s stop hiding. Doesn’t suit me. I want to go full offense."

She grinned. Sharp. Ferocious. "You took the words right out of my mouth. Let’s go on a rampage."

And with those blessed words, we started running.

No more cover, no more caution. Just raw momentum.

We sprinted through alleys, vaulted over fallen beams, busted through weak walls like rabid wolves off-leash. If something stood in our path, we either crashed through it or veered around with barely a second of hesitation.

We didn’t sneak. We announced.

And finally—

We came across it.

A battlefield.

Two teams. Locked in full-blown war.

It was a squad fight—chaos incarnate. Blades clashing, spells exploding, shouts echoing through the empty ruins like battle drums.

They hadn’t seen us yet.

They were too busy tearing each other apart.

Kaelira and I skidded to a halt just outside the ring of carnage.

I glanced at her.

She looked back at me.

No words needed.

We were thinking the exact same thing.

Third-party this shit.

...

We were like ghosts in the storm of battle, silent and unnoticed—at least, for now.

The two teams in the middle were too distracted with each other to realize the new predators on the scene.

One squad had a melee-heavy composition: a broad-shouldered guy swinging an oversized halberd, a quick-eyed girl with daggers flashing in the sunlight, and a lanky, twitchy dude who had way too many knives strapped across his chest.

The other squad, a little more balanced, had a tank with heavy armor, a ranged magic-user, and a lithe rogue who was blending in with the shadows.

I glanced at Kaelira. She was already set, her body coiled, her expression one of excitement, her twin daggers gleaming wickedly in the dim light.

"Ready?" I asked, my voice low but full of a strange, eager thrill.

She didn’t answer—she didn’t need to. She just grinned, an expression so savage it could only mean one thing.

Total destruction.

We didn’t need strategy. Hell, we didn’t need teamwork. We were chaos incarnate, and these players were about to find out the hard way.

Kaelira was already moving, darting through the broken buildings like a shadow, slipping between columns of smoke and dust without making a sound. I followed, slightly behind her, but with my senses heightened, aware of every movement, every flicker of mana.

The first target was the melee squad. Their front-line guy with the halberd was too busy trading blows with the tank of the other team. He was slow, his big weapon taking too much effort to swing. I didn’t need to be a genius to know he wouldn’t be able to react fast enough when we struck.

Kaelira and I were like a tidal wave, about to crash down on them.

I moved first, taking the lead. I ran straight toward the halberd-wielder, my legs pumping as I gathered mana into my hands. The moment I was within range, I snapped my fingers, and the world around me bent. The mana around me twisted, coiling into a sharp whip, and I lashed out.

The halberd-wielder’s eyes widened just as the whip cracked into his weapon, forcing him to drop it with a yelp. His arms shot out to grab it, but before he could even reach, I was already on him.

A quick jab, a twist, and his neck snapped with an almost sickening sound.

+1 Kill.

The melee squad didn’t have time to process what had happened. They had barely a second to look up before Kaelira was on them.

Her twin daggers flashed in the sunlight as she moved like a blur, a predator striking its prey with surgical precision. The first target, the dagger girl, never even saw it coming.

Kaelira darted behind her, slashing at her neck in a fluid motion. The girl’s head was separated from her shoulders before she could even scream.

+1 Kill.

The third member of the melee squad—a twitchy, nervous guy with way too many blades—took a step back, fear flashing across his face as he saw Kaelira’s blood-slick blades. He scrambled for a throwing knife, but it was too late. She was already upon him.

With a single thrust, she pierced his heart, pulling the blade free in a sickening twist.

+1 Kill.

There was no more resistance from that squad.

I turned to look at Kaelira, her daggers dripping with blood, her smile feral.

"Easy," she whispered.

The other squad hadn’t even noticed us yet. They were still too busy with their own fight—too busy bashing into each other’s ranks.

The tank was taking hits left and right, his heavy armor creaking under the pressure, but his shield wasn’t holding up for much longer. The ranged mage was firing spells at the melee fighters, keeping them distracted.

I scanned the scene, calculating my next move. The rogue in the other squad was making his move, sneaking around to flank. A quiet breath of air, and he would strike, probably at the tank or the mage.

But not if I had anything to say about it.

With a grin, I summoned more mana to my fingers, twisting it into the form of a needle-thin wire. It sparked into existence, trailing behind me like a coil of lightning.

The rogue was still unaware.

I threw it.

The wire flew silently, like a snake in the grass, and then—BOOM—it snapped forward, cutting through the air faster than the rogue could react.

The lightning thread caught him by the ankle, and with one sharp tug, I pulled him toward me, right into my reach. He yelped, his eyes wide with terror, but before he could even speak, I had already crushed his windpipe with a single strike.

+1 Kill.

By now, the tank noticed me, his massive, armored body shifting as he turned to face me, sword raised. But it was too slow.

I darted forward, stepping into his range. He swung the sword in an arc, trying to cleave me in half. I sidestepped it effortlessly, and in the same motion, whipped my mana thread around his weapon, pulling it from his hands with a sharp yank.

Before he could react, I sent a burst of lightning straight into his chest. It was enough to knock him backward, his armor groaning under the pressure, but not enough to kill him.

But eventually with extensive bolts of lighting sizzling his armour.

+1 Kill.

The mage, realizing he was now the last one left, let out a desperate scream and started gathering magic in his hands. A swirling vortex of energy was building up around him, his desperation palpable. He threw his arms out, sending a wave of fire toward me.

I didn’t even flinch.

The fire rolled toward me, and before it could even touch me, I snapped my fingers. My mana threads wrapped around the flames, cutting through them like they were paper.

The mage’s eyes widened as he realized it was over.

A final bolt of lightning shot from my fingers, arcing through the air and crashing into his chest. The mage’s body jerked once, twice, and then crumpled to the ground in a heap of sizzling flesh.

+1 Kill.

The battlefield was silent.

Kaelira stepped forward, wiping her blades clean. She glanced at me, a wicked grin on her face. "Not bad, you got a few kills."

I smirked, We were tied.