Before the night sky over Gatehaven split open, Zephyr stood at the edge of the fourth-floor abandoned building, his fully opened eyes staring sharply at the old structure across the way.

The bow in his hand rose. The string of white light drew back slowly, and from it, an arrow began to form—a massive arrow radiating light so bright it illuminated the entire rooftop where he stood.

Nearly two meters long, its sharp tip pulsed like a living heart. Its light was bluish-white, shimmering with an intensity that hurt to look at. Around it, the air vibrated, creating small ripples like a mirage.

Zephyr stepped forward, approaching the building’s edge. His four-split eyes—blue on the right, red on the left, with irises and pupils divided—stared at the night sky above Gatehaven.

Through his eyes, he could see everything.

Three hundred sixty-two people in that underground chamber. And not just that—their positions, their power levels, even their movements five seconds into the future.

He could see how the guards paced back and forth, how the underlings sat relaxing, how the leaders sat in their chairs with their distinct auras.

His target wasn’t the leaders. They would be handled by the Star Witch. His target was the other three hundred sixty-two people—the underlings, the enforcers, the henchmen supporting this criminal organization.

He drew the bowstring deeper.

The massive arrow shone brighter.

Then he released it.

The arrow shot forward like a spear of light piercing the sky. In an instant, it had penetrated the dark clouds above, leaving a trail of light that split the night.

It disappeared behind the clouds.

Then, from above, rain fell.

Hundreds of arrows rained from the sky like a cascade of light. Each was the size of a normal arrow, with glowing sharp tips. They descended at incredible speed, creating a sight both beautiful and terrifying.

But as they first appeared, as those hundreds of arrows began their descent, they suddenly vanished. All of them. In an instant.

Zephyr smiled faintly. His right eye’s ability was to see the future. But his left eye had another ability: moving objects to any location he desired, as long as he could see the target.

And he saw everything.

In that dark underground chamber, in an instant, three hundred sixty-two arrows appeared in the bodies of three hundred sixty-two people.

Right in their bodies.

From his vantage point, Zephyr could see it all. Three hundred twenty-one people died instantly. Their bodies collapsed like puppets with cut strings. Forty-one others were severely wounded—because Zephyr couldn’t see their bodies directly, he couldn’t hit their vital spots precisely.

His expression was cold. No regret. No hesitation. This was war against a criminal organization that had killed thousands. They deserved this.

He drew his bow again. A new arrow began to form.

But then he frowned.

.

.

.

Meanwhile inside the underground chamber, before Zephyr released his arrows, two guards stood before the massive iron door.

The door was solid. Half a meter thick, made of a special alloy rumored to withstand even A-rank explosions. On its surface, ancient symbols were engraved, emitting a faint glow—a sign that the door was also protected by magic.

The two guards stood beside the door, leaning against the wall in highly unprofessional postures. One was large, with a crew cut and a dragon tattoo on his neck. The other was thinner, with a thin mustache and eyes perpetually half-closed from drowsiness.

"Damn boss," grumbled the large one, yawning widely. "Makes us guard a door that obviously can’t be breached. What for?"

The thin one shrugged. "Maybe afraid of intruders."

"Intruders?" The large one laughed cynically. "This door can withstand A-rank explosions. What kind of intruder could get through? Besides, if someone did try to get in, there’s just the two of us. What could we do?"

"Maybe our job is just a formality," answered the thin one. "To look professional."

"Professional?" The large one snorted. "Our salaries are two months late. What’s professional about that?"

They laughed together. A bitter laugh, the laugh of people who knew they were just pawns in a larger game.

Silence fell for a moment. Then the thin one started a new topic.

"Hey, did you watch the tournament today?"

The large one nodded. "Watched a bit. On my phone. Pretty exciting."

"Really exciting," the thin one said enthusiastically. "That young guy—Adam, his name—he was amazing. Beat ten Arclight people by himself. Ten people from Arclight! Crazy."

"Yeah, I saw. His hand got cut off and he still fought." The large one shook his head in admiration. "He only awakened a few months ago, they say. But he’s already that strong."

"That’s called inherited talent," said the thin one. "His father was the Sword Saint, the strongest Hunter of all time. His mother is the Star Witch, a Guardian Council member. Like it or not, the bloodline is already strong."

The large one nodded in agreement. "Lucky bastards, huh. We were born into ordinary families, had to work hard for years just to reach B-rank. He’s been at it for a few months and can already beat A-ranks easily."

"Life’s not fair." The thin one sighed. "But what can you do."

Another moment of silence. Then the large one pulled out his phone, opened his gallery, and showed something to the thin one.

"Hey, look at this."

The thin one leaned in. On the phone screen was a photo of a beautiful woman with golden hair in an elegant white dress. Her face was graceful, her eyes sharp, and her posture full of authority. The Star Witch. Delilah Socheron.

"Wow, the Star Witch," said the thin one, eyes sparkling. "So beautiful."

"Beautiful?" The large one grinned mischievously. "Look at her chest."

The thin one squinted. In the photo, Delilah was indeed wearing a somewhat tight dress around her chest. Her large breasts protruded clearly, forming two beautiful mounds difficult to ignore.

"Crazy," the thin one hissed. "So big. Seems bigger than in older photos, right?"

"Yeah, right? I noticed that too." The large one zoomed in on the photo, focusing on the chest area. "She wasn’t this big before. Maybe because of age? Or... because of something else?"

They both chuckled lewdly.

"Must be nice being her stepson," said the thin one, imagining. "Living in the same house with a stepmother that beautiful, with a body that extreme. Imagine, every day you see her walking around the house, wearing thin clothes, her hair flowing..."

"Bro, I’ve been imagining since yesterday," the large one interrupted. "If I were Adam, I wouldn’t be able to resist. Every night I’d be jerking off thinking about her."

"Just jerking off?" The thin one laughed. "I’d try something more... direct."

"You’d dare?" The large one raised an eyebrow. "She’s the Star Witch, you know. Guardian Council member. Could blow up your body in a second."

"Just imagining," the thin one raised his hands. "But seriously, can you imagine what her breasts look like if her clothes came off?"

The large one closed his eyes, imagining. "Probably plump. Soft. When gripped..."

"And her nipples," the thin one continued, also imagining. "Probably light pink. Or brown? Usually blondes..."

"Bro, stop." The large one opened his eyes, laughing. "I’m getting hard."

"Better imagine something else," said the thin one. "She has two daughters too, right?"

"Yeah, they’re no less beautiful."

"So in one house, there are three beautiful women. A stepmother, two stepsisters." The thin one sighed. "Heaven on earth."

They laughed again, immersed in their lewd fantasies. They imagined what it would be like to live in one house with three such beautiful women. What it would be like if they were Adam, seeing them every day, smelling their scent, imagining dirty things about them.

"Maybe he’s already done something," the large one said suddenly, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Maybe that’s why her chest got bigger."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"I mean... maybe Adam’s already been groping them." The large one grinned. "Or more than that."

The thin one was stunned. "You think they..."

"Who knows." The large one shrugged.

"You’re crazy." The thin one laughed. "But interesting to imagine though."

They sank back into their fantasies. Wilder this time, more vulgar.

"Must be nice to be him," the thin one sighed.

"Must be nice," the large one agreed.

AND AT THAT MOMENT—

The iron door beside them exploded.

BOOM!

Metal fragments flew in all directions. The magical symbols on its surface extinguished in an instant. A shockwave spread, throwing both guards against the wall.

And from within the billowing smoke, a woman emerged.

Her golden hair flowed beautifully, billowing in the wind from outside. Her white dress was clean, untainted by dust and smoke. Her golden eyes stared sharply into the room. Beneath her, a flying broom hovered, carrying her.

The Star Witch. Delilah Socheron. She shot forward at incredible speed, passing the two guards without even glancing at them.

The two guards were stunned. Their mouths hung open, but no sound came out. They had just been imagining this woman in their lewd fantasies, and now she was really before them. Real. Alive. With an aura of power so immense it made their knees tremble.

Maybe... not a bad way to die, at the hands of a goddess this beautiful, they both thought, almost simultaneously.

But Delilah didn’t give them time to die by her hand.

She passed them, focused inward.

And as she passed, from outside, two arrows of light shot in, striking both guards squarely in the chest.

They fell. Dead instantly. Without time to scream, without time to feel pain. Only emptiness welcomed them.

.

.

.

Delilah continued flying swiftly through the vast underground chamber. Around her, corpses lay scattered. Three hundred twenty-one people killed in an instant by Zephyr’s rain of arrows. The wounded moaned in pain, but Delilah had no time for them.

A small earpiece was in her ear, connected directly to Zephyr above.

"Zephyr," she whispered, her voice calm even as she flew among the corpses. "Guide me to the leaders."

Zephyr’s voice sounded in her ear, flat but clear. "Straight ahead. Turn right at the end of the corridor. Down one level. They’re in the farthest room."

"Understood."

Delilah accelerated. Her flying broom shot forward like lightning, passing through dark corridors, past iron doors beginning to open in panic. A few tried to block her—they died before they could raise their weapons, Zephyr’s arrows always faster.

Inside the leaders’ meeting room, the atmosphere changed in an instant.

Ashen Tide had just finished speaking with Eldertree. The old man had just left, leaving the six of them in the room. Yumi still sat lazily in her chair. The wolf-tattooed man was stretching. The clawed woman sharpened her claws. The red-haired man took his last swig. The pale-haired young man with dark circles brooded in the corner.

Then Ashen Tide’s earpiece crackled.

"Boss! We’re under attack! Lots of people—"

The voice cut off. Abruptly. Like someone dying mid-sentence.

Ashen Tide froze. His grey eyes narrowed.

"What?" Yumi rose from her chair, alert.

The wolf-tattooed man stood, reaching for the axes at his waist. The clawed woman also readied herself. The red-haired man set down his bottle.

"We’re under attack," Ashen Tide said, his voice low.

"By whom?" asked the clawed woman.

Before Ashen Tide could answer—

BOOM!

The room’s door shattered. Metal and wood fragments flew in all directions. The shockwave sent some of them stumbling.

And from beyond the destroyed door, a woman shot in on a flying broom.

Golden hair. White dress. Sharp golden eyes.

"Ashen Tide," Delilah’s voice rang out, cold but elegant. "In the name of the Guardian Council, you’re under arrest."

Ashen Tide’s expression darkened. His eyes narrowed, his jaw tightened.

"Star Witch," he hissed. "Damn it."

Delilah didn’t wait for an answer. Her hand swung, and a long spear materialized from within the light—a silver spear with a gleaming tip, pulsing with golden energy.

She threw it.

The spear shot forward like lightning, straight at Ashen Tide’s chest. Its speed was incredible. In an instant, its tip was mere inches from its target.

But Ashen Tide reacted faster. His body exploded into smoke.

Thick black smoke that spread in all directions in an instant. Delilah’s spear passed through the smoke unhindered, embedding itself in the back wall with a loud BAM. But Ashen Tide was no longer there.

The smoke spread throughout the room, creating a thick fog that blurred vision.

Delilah frowned. She could sense their presence—Yumi, the tattooed man, the clawed woman, the red-haired man, the pale-haired young man—but Ashen Tide... he had vanished. As if he had truly turned into smoke and dispersed to every corner of the room.

"You think you can capture me, Star Witch?" His voice came from all directions at once. "You can’t even touch me."