"Looks like he ran away," said an old man in cardigans and golf attire as he stepped out from within a wide and solid tree trunk, his voice tinged with mild disappointment. "I thought I could snag him when he came for Bryan's cores. But he was too cautious for someone so young. Maybe this wasn't his first time."
"Yes, dear. It seems this time we've run into one that knows the hunters' tricks," replied an old woman dressed in Victorian attire, layered under a cardigan, with a shawl draped over her shoulders and a bonnet perched neatly on her head. She stepped out from the same tree trunk, her movements deliberate. With an almost casual air, she thrust her hand into the solid bark and pulled out a polished wooden walking stick. Linking her arm with the old man's, the pair began strolling toward the ambush site, their demeanor was too casual almost like an elderly couple out for a leisurely walk in the park.
"What do we do now, dear? Without Bryan's curseling, we won't be able to restore the ground and keep using our old trick," the old man remarked, his gaze sweeping over the charred pavement, scattered debris, and craters of varying sizes. His tone was detached, as if Bryan's death were a minor inconvenience rather than a loss to grieve or avenge. His only concern was how Bryan's absence would affect their operations.
"We still have the cab, don't we? Send the driver out of the array to wait for the next targets," the old woman suggested, her voice sweet and polite but no less chilling for its tone. She glanced at the road, her expression calculating. "In the meantime, have your slaves clean up the mess and get back into position before the next target arrives. Once they've made it this far, it doesn't matter if they see through the ambush. They'll be as good as dead anyway."
"Okay, dear. But what about the one that just escaped? After all, he did kill our grandson," the old man asked, his voice devoid of emotion. Despite referencing his grandson's death, he appeared utterly indifferent, as though it were a trivial matter rather than a personal loss.
"He's trapped in the array. He's bound to run into someone else, and they'll take care of him for us. Let's focus on hunting for now—" The old woman's words abruptly stopped, her expression freezing as her mouth fell open in shock. She looked down to find a clean hole punched through her chest, blood rapidly staining her pristine white cardigan a deep crimson.
Before she could collapse, the old man caught her in his arms, cradling her frail body as tears welled up in his eyes. "I'll join you in the underworld soon, my love, but not before I avenge you," he vowed, his voice trembling. The light drained from the old woman's eyes, her body dissipating moments later, leaving only the wooden walking stick behind.
Gripping the stick tightly, the old man's grief twisted into rage. He darted into the woods, moving with an agility that belied his apparent age. His pace was inhuman—faster than a professional athlete at full sprint. The hypnotized mortals followed as best they could, their movements sluggish under the weight of their weapons and ammunition. It was clear they couldn't keep up.
[Master, we miscalculated. There were two of them in hiding,] Dame Wasp reported through the status screen, as her cybernetic visor scanned the ambush site. [From what I can tell, the old woman was a Curse Master.] Through advanced lip-reading algorithms, she had analyzed the couple's brief conversation as they came out of hiding.
Despite having fled the site, Ace had no intention of letting his enemies off so easily. With the rail rifle in his hands, he lied in wait, prepared to snipe them from miles away when the opportunity arose.
Ace's jaw tightened at the report. [Figures. Let's stay sharp. We're not out of this yet,] he replied through his innate curse art, steadying his breathing as he calibrated his aim. Following Dame Wasp's precise instructions, he locked onto the Curse Master. After helping him align his shot, Dame Wasp returned to the rail rifle's power chamber and then Ace took the shot.
The shot was silenced by the silence talisman. The projectile struck the Curse Master squarely in the chest, dropping her instantly without any complications.
Ace exhaled sharply but didn't waste time savoring the kill. Instead of immediately taking aim at the second target, he bolted from his hiding spot, sprinting toward the ambush site at his maximum speed. The rail rifle required a thirty-second cooldown, and in that window, Ace intended to take down the remaining curse user himself.
As he ran, Ace used his innate curse art to order Dame Wasp. [Rose, you go ahead and finish off the old fool.]
[Affirmative!] she responded immediately, darting through the air toward the Curse User. Her braid morphed into a razor-sharp laser cutter as she pushed herself to her fastest speed, leaving Ace behind.
For Dame Wasp, this mission was more than just survival; it was about redemption. Her failure to detect the massive array formation while they were scouting the winery from the cliff still gnawed at her. Although Ace hadn't mentioned it again, she couldn't forgive herself. It was her responsibility to spot such threats, and the oversight weighed heavily on her.
The old man tore through the woods at a speed that belied his frail appearance, clutching his late wife's innate curse tool in one hand. Blinded by grief and fury, he was no longer concerned with strategy or survival. The only thought in his mind was avenging his beloved wife, no matter the cost.
His primal rage fueled him, and with each step, his resolve grew stronger. He no longer cared about escaping or crafting another scheme—his life had already ended when hers did. Now, all that mattered was vengeance. Afterward, he would join her in the afterlife
Tears streamed down the old man's face as he raced through the woods, deftly avoiding the branches, stones, and roots jutting out from the ground. Grief and rage fueled his relentless pace—until a small red dot appeared on his forehead.
The old man's body kept moving for a few more yards, momentum propelling him forward, before it crumpled to the ground, lifeless. The hypnotized mortals trailing behind him, oblivious to the damage they inflicted on themselves during their mindless sprint, collapsed as well, their connection severed the moment he died.
Hovering above the old man's dissipating corpse, Dame Wasp observed the scene in her 1/100th form. She watched silently as his body dissolved into the void, leaving behind two curse cores. With precision and speed, she had used her laser cutter to bore through his forehead and exit cleanly from the back of his skull, killing him instantly.
Wasting no time, Dame Wasp secured the curse cores left behind and the innate curse tool. Once her task was complete, she signaled Ace to recall her, her efficiency speaking louder than any words. As human presence faded, the woods gradually hushed, reclaiming the serene tranquility it had always known.