The heavy doors slammed shut behind Noah, sealing off the corridor with a muted thud. Arcane locks clicked into place, glowing faintly before vanishing into the old stone.
Cordelia exhaled sharply through her nose. "Great," she muttered. "He gets to play the hero while I babysit the undead fan club."
The floor beneath her boots trembled. Distant murmurs of incantations echoed from deeper within the estate—low, guttural, ancient. Then came the scent of rot and magic, thick in the air like oil on water.
From the opposite side of the hallway, shadows stirred. Figures emerged—twenty of them—cloaked in deep gray and black, their faces hidden behind bone-white masks etched with flickering runes. Some held grimoires, others walked barehanded, their fingers twitching with malignant anticipation.
Cordelia planted her boots firmly and raised her right hand. A rune flared to life on her glove.
She slammed her hand down. A wall of fire burst to life across the hallway, roaring to existence in a sweeping arc. The wave of heat pushed back the fog, casting the necromancers in stark contrast—monsters silhouetted against the blaze.
Several of them stopped. Others began chanting louder, trying to dispel or push through the barrier. She could see their lips moving beneath the masks, their grimoires flipping open, pages rustling as mana surged.
She felt the pull of Wind magic, drawing it up through her chest. With a snap of her fingers, a slicing gust flew toward the closest necromancer who dared step through the flames. The gust caught his robe and tore it open, sending him stumbling back.
Another hurled a shadow bolt her way. She sidestepped easily and returned fire—a narrow stream of flame that spiraled like a drill, crashing into his shoulder and knocking him flat.
They were testing her—probing. That was fine.
She was testing them too.
Cordelia spun, a ring of fire igniting at her feet, flames licking her boots but never burning her. Her wind magic rose like a current, lifting her hair as she stared them down.
Cordelia ducked under a crackling bolt of black magic, the curse searing past her shoulder and scorching the stone behind her. She didn’t stop. With a sharp breath, she drove her palm into the ground.
From beneath the necromancers’ feet, roots and vines exploded upward, twisting like serpents. The first three enemies were yanked off their feet instantly, arms flailing as the living tendrils wrapped around their torsos, legs, even mouths. One tried to cast another spell, but a vine closed around his wrist and crushed the grimoire from his hand.
Cordelia stood and raised her hand. "Sleep tight."
The vines tightened just enough to knock the necromancers unconscious, the pressure choking off their mana channels without causing lasting harm. The tangled forms slumped in place, immobilized.
Another came at her from the side—this one faster, older. His grimoire flared with red necrotic light, and skeletal arms burst from the walls, reaching for her like claws.
Cordelia jumped, twisting midair. Wind curled around her limbs as she spun. "Tempest Pulse!"
A blast of compressed air detonated outward, shredding the summoned limbs and slamming into the necromancer. He hit the wall hard, groaned once, and crumpled. His staff clattered beside him.
A second group began to fan out, circling her.
They thought they were being clever.
Cordelia touched her left glove. Lightning crackled from her fingertips.
A burst of arcing lightning shot across the chamber like a web. The necromancers jolted as electricity surged through their bodies—not lethal, just enough to overload their nervous systems and render them unconscious. They collapsed like puppets with cut strings.
Another trio rushed her with bone armor and layered wards. Cordelia slid backward with a gust of wind, then jabbed her palm into the ground again.
A spike of rock erupted beneath their feet, launching all three upward in an arc. Before they hit the ground, she flared her palm once more—a gust of wind softened their fall, but they still landed hard enough to knock them out cold.
She stood in the middle of the scorched corridor, surrounded by groaning, unconscious bodies and the scent of ozone.
They were adapting now. Forming formations, casting in tandem.
Cordelia narrowed her eyes.
Cordelia exhaled slowly. Around her, the unconscious bodies of the necromancers lay sprawled on the floor, tangled in roots, wind-blown debris, and lingering sparks of scorched mana.
She raised her chin, readying herself.
’Ten more. Bring it on.’
And just as she stepped forward—
"CORDELIAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!"
The scream exploded through the hall like a thunderclap.
Even the necromancers—those still conscious—snapped their heads toward the side corridor in confusion.
Another boom echoed, this one accompanied by the rapid sound of footsteps—fast, light, and furious.
From the adjacent hallway, a silver-and-blue blur burst into the room—Lys, flushed and slightly out of breath, her short hair tousled. Floating around her were her three elemental spirits: the amber glow of Fire, the emerald shimmer of Gaia, and the bright swirl of Aqua.
"Don’t you dare take all the fun while I’m not looking!!" Lys shouted.
Cordelia blinked. "Lys—?"
"You left me behind!" Lys huffed, cheeks puffed out in indignation. "That’s totally unfair!!"
Her blue-gray eyes swept across the chamber, taking in everything at once: Cordelia standing in the center with magic pulsing in her hands; ten necromancers groaning on the ground; the other ten still frozen in place, too confused to act.
Even Cordelia had to admit—it was a hell of an entrance.
Lys stomped forward like an angry storm, her elemental spirits flaring brighter as they circled protectively around her.
Then, her tone shifted, quieter—serious.
Lys’s question hung in the air.
Cordelia lowered her hands slightly, her smirk returning. "He went ahead. He’s deeper inside."
Lys blinked. "Wait... he’s alone?"
"...With another girl?"
Cordelia didn’t miss a beat. "Yup."
The temperature in the room seemed to spike for a second—not from Cordelia’s Fire magic, but from the sudden surge of energy around Lys’s spirits.
The flame spirit crackled loudly, the wind spirit swirled in sharp circles, and even Aqua pulsed with agitation.
Lys clenched her fists. "Tch... not fair..."
Cordelia raised a brow. "Are your spirits... mad?"
"They’re just emotionally Visit NovelHub for more amazing novels and chapters. "Shut up."