The world of mystics was one cloaked in mystery, that was something they were taught the moment they signed the bloody contract.

A world rife with madness, they were made to understand that early on.

Yet, much like how war stories and warnings would end up us overblown jokes to veterans, the "mystery" that haunted those who walked the path through this "hidden world" became nothing short of an over exaggeration.

Once you get used to seeing undead monstrosities, ghosts and other fiendish beings, everything just becomes another "target" in your eyes.

On an empty rooftop overlooking the city skyline, a lone man lay prone as he aimed a large 50 caliber anti-material rifle towards the warehouse where Richard was-

This man, a nameless man is an agent, one whose job was to take care of any stragglers.

Numb to the horrors of the world unknown to many, he saw things that would make others go crazy.

From the mountainous woodlands of the US, to the deserts of the middle east all the way to the jungles of Asia...

The monsters he faced, the evils he slaughtered numbered in the hundreds.

A professional in the field, his .50 cal rifle, blessed by the sacrifice of holy souls and loaded with bullets that bathed in the light of the divine.

His tool was one that could easily penetrate a modern day main battle tank. It could penetrate and even chase after its targets.

The gun was his partner and together, they slaughtered monsters all over the world but-

"That’s unreal"

Was all the man could say as he watched the bullet that penetrated a giant monster’s flesh and made it explode simply bounce off air.

It was as if an invisible barrier stood between the man and his target.

His comrades whose bullets were- although less powerful, still had the power to utterly decimate any singular mystical entity also looked like harmless plastic pellets ricocheting off empty air.

"Damn it"

The tried to take another shot but he realized too late that his hands had unintentionally separated from his gun.

The prone position he maintained numbed his body and caused him to loose feeling in his body-

At least... that’s what he told himself.

But deep down he knew-

In between his shaking hands and heavy breathing, things that should be uncharacteristic for a professional like him... he started to feel it.

Fear-

True fear, one that made any sense of resistance futile.

He tried to suppress such thoughts, wave them away but the reality was something people like him had to acknowledge.

The fact of the matter was-

"I need to escape"

He was trained as a sniper, the pipeline sent him down this path that made him a killer of mystical threats.

His training always told him to hold position and always prepare to take the shot.

But he was never trained on what to do should his bullet have no effect.

Snipers were never trained to deal with such situations, they were expected to be deployed against targets that "could" be killed.

Even the most powerful mystics would have a moment when they were unprepared, when they let their guard down.

But mystics like the person in the warehouse-

"Damien Dixon... I need to report this"

Although leaving now would be akin to abandoning his comrades, their death was assured the moment they open fired at the woman.

He did not know the purpose or significance of the woman to Damien but the sniper could tell that she was likely VERY important to him.

The sniper didn’t really like Robert, he was only following orders but now that Robert was dead-

"You think I’ll let you?"

A cold voice echoed behind him.

The fear that threatened to overwhelm him disappeared as the man let his instincts born from years of training take control. All the emotions that were raging in him were pushed towards the instincts that every muscle, every bone and every drop of blood in his body were familiar with.

The sniper rolled on the ground, not too long, just a single roll while pushing his body up. His hand had reached for his sidearm and the moment his body was up in the air, he was already facing the person who was behind him.

His sidearm, a smith and wesson 500 magnum, not standard issue but one that was needed for his line of work, was pointed at the target and...

"Guh"

Just as he lined up his shot, a strong impact hit his back but instead of pushing him- the force "pierced" through his body.

Within his line of sight, he could see a long arm stretching towards him, by the slight sensations he got from his core, the arm had penetrated his his lower back and exited through his abdomen.

That likely was the reason why he lost feeling in his legs yet even in such a state-

"..."

Adrenaline should have taken effect, although the injury he sustained was great he could at least land one shot-

One shot is all he needed...

But...

*THUD*

His hand lost strength and his sidearm fell on the ground.

The sniper stared in shock as the image of the person behind him got clearer.

A young woman with Asian-American features.

Her face still carried that "youthful babyfat" that gave her face that appearance that looked soft.

Unlike the faces of the women he spent countless nights with who had well contoured faces that showed of excessive maturity, the woman before him gave an air of youthfulness and innocence that contrasted with the horrific figure that stood behind her.

"Ghakh"

He tried to say something but his lungs were likely hit as well, the air which he tried to use to speak did not come out, instead, a torrent of blood filled his mouth and lungs.

"You have talent, I’ll keep you for later, maybe Richard would like these things too~"

Seeing as he was unable to even resist, the woman waved her hand as she spoke.

The creature that attacked him followed her orders as the sniper was flung to the side like a worthless rag.

He crashed into the railings, his blood and guts scattering everywhere and the moment he landed, his sight was directed at the woman.

He watched as the woman, likely a supporter or maybe even the teacher of Damien Dixon picked up his pistol and "played" with it.

She spent a few minutes investigating before storing it somewhere.

’A powerful witch...’

He knew what kind of being the woman was.

Even with her youthful appearance and air of innocence, she was one of the most terrifying people in the world.

Witches...

Existing since ancient times, their identification as "witches" was a modern term but the essence of their existence dated centuries back.

Some lived during the ancient era while others were recently born. But their age was not important at all as the greatest danger in their existence is their complete lack of empathy.

Beings who move solely for desire.

The sniper had already killed a dozen of her kind, but all of those attacks were made with countless sacrifices.

His victories came at the cost of lives but that told more about the danger of witches than it did about his own actions.

He never saw his victories as "right" nor did he believe that the people he killed were "wrong".

Yet, if someone asked him if the witches were innocent... he’d only have one answer-

’Damien Dixon... he made a contract with a terrifying being... I can’t let this go-’

He whispered a prayer, in his mind, it was a cry from his soul, a "last resort" that also acted as an escape.

After all, in the world of mystics, "Death was not the end".

They were made to understand that too, watching their fellow agents be turned into monsters against cruel mystics was something that no one wanted to experience but is a common occurrence in this world.

But the prayer did not only allow his soul to escape, it also acted like a signal and message.

Cindy, who was busy with the rifle, felt the mystical forces swirl and she turned to the man who she discarded only to see something she had never seen before.

Other witches, more experienced than her, would have immediately realized what the man was doing but Cindy only watched.

’Good... she’s a novice’

The sniper thought as his soul slowly burned away, the witch noticed his actions but she was already too late-

’I won’t meet you there but I hope... I hope you burn in hell, witch!’

His last message to his superiors came with a final message to the one who took his life.

Cindy could only watch helplessly as her materials turned to dust, the man’s body burned with golden flames clearing every trace of his existence.

She did not know what happened but she knew that it was not something good.

"Take it and let’s head back, we need to escape quickly"

Cindy and her pets vanished from the rooftop and a few minutes later-

*BANG* 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

A group of men dressed in black combat uniforms stormed to the empty space only to see nothing.

There was not a trace but the leader of the group led his men to secure the perimeter before signalling for someone to enter.

A man dressed in traditional wear entered, he stood at the center of the rooftop for a moment. He sniffed the air and closed his eyes before saying-

"Witch... the traces come from one who has made a pact with deities"