Eternal Undying Chronicles

Argint stood on the roof of a towering skyscraper, her crimson hair tied into a neat bun that swayed slightly in the icy wind. The bustling city stretched below her, a labyrinth of glowing lights and movement. Her sharp eyes scanned the streets, and she sniffed the air as a chill ran through her.

"A storm is approaching," she muttered.

The biting winter winds bit at her exposed midriff, the price of wearing her usual crop top beneath an open jacket. She had paired it with long jeans, a compromise between practicality and her stubborn sense of style. Alicarde had a habit of lecturing her about dressing modestly in public, though he conveniently overlooked her wardrobe when they were at home.

"Pervert," she murmured, a smirk tugging at her lips. The wind whisked her muttered words away into the night.

Her amber eyes fell upon the street below, where sleek vehicles moved with purpose. Among them, three black vans stood out—her allies, the Espers. Their task was straightforward but critical: collect any Nexus Fragment that might appear. Chris, the team's teleporter, would be their ace in securing the fragment if they encountered one.

Argint's gaze shifted to the adjacent building, their true target. It loomed ominously in the cold night, its windows glowing faintly. Inside, their quarry awaited—the elusive alchemist. Their orders were simple: capture him if possible, eliminate him if not.

Her lips curled into a predatory smile. "Don't let me down, humans. Show me that so-called indomitable spirit you're always boasting about."

It was a cruel jest. Argint didn't believe in such platitudes. The "indomitable spirit of humanity" was a farce, a story humans told themselves to mask their fragility. She would know—she was half-human, after all. That weaker half had haunted her throughout her life, marking her as inferior in her clan.

Her thoughts drifted to her brother, Aiden, a full werewolf and a warrior whose strength had overshadowed hers. He had been the pride of their family, the future king of the Warwolves. But Aiden was gone now, killed in a world that had no room for his brilliance. Argint clenched her fists, her claws instinctively extending for a moment before retracting.

This battle was only the first step toward avenging his death.

Her father's cold words echoed in her mind.

"I knew he was only mortal."

Conri Beowulf, the King of Warwolves, had dismissed Aiden's death as though it were nothing. His apathy left the burden of vengeance squarely on her shoulders.

The buzzing of the magical communicator at her hip snapped her back to the present. Amena's voice came through, crisp and steady.

"Now."

Argint's amber eyes glinted with a silver sheen as she leaped from the towering skyscraper to the ground below. The fall was long, and when she landed, the impact shattered the pavement beneath her feet. Dust and debris clouded the air, drawing gasps from a few onlookers.

Without sparing them a glance, she straightened and strode toward the building across the street, her movements deliberate and unhurried.

A crackle came through the magic communicator at her hip, followed by Amena's calm voice.

"We've shut down all civilian communications, and evacuation will begin shortly. You're free to fight without holding back."

Argint smirked when she heard those words.

"Good. I hate holding back."

As she entered the building, the air shifted. The security guards stationed at the entrance froze under her icy gaze. None dared to confront her, their instincts screaming at them to flee. To encourage their departure, Argint unleashed a subtle wave of her fear aura, a primal force that sent them scrambling for the exits like terrified prey.

Within moments, the first floor was silent and empty.

She stopped in front of the elevator, tapping her foot impatiently as she considered her options.

"Stairs or elevator? Which will it be?" she mused aloud.

Before she could decide, the elevator lights flickered, and the carriage descended rapidly to the basement, leaving her stranded.

"Ah, come on, Amena," she muttered into the communicator.

"You really want me to take the stairs?"

Amena's voice returned, tinged with faint amusement.

"I shut down the elevators for good reason."

"Sure, whatever," Argint replied with an exaggerated sigh, already turning toward the stairwell.

"By the way," Amena continued, "you've got company."

Argint paused mid-step and sniffed the air, her sharp senses picking up unfamiliar scents.

"Yeah, I see them."

She turned to face a group of five figures emerging from a hallway. Dressed in sharp black suits, they looked more like corporate executives than alchemist. Three of them were male, the other two female.

Argint tilted her head, a playful smirk tugging at her lips.

"Hmmm. Are you guys alchemists or hotel staff? I mean, I was expecting robes and dramatic flair, but the suits threw me off."

A blonde-haired man at the front stepped forward, his expression serious as he pulled a sleek metal rod from his belt and adopted a combat stance.

"Surrender now, intruder," he commanded.

Argint blinked in mock surprise.

"Wow, how original. You must be really scared right now, huh?"

Her grin widened as her fingers began to elongate, her claws glinting menacingly in the fluorescent light.

"Have none of you ever faced a purebred werewolf before?"

One of the women, a sharp-eyed brunette clutching a piece of white chalk, sneered at her.

"Don't insult us, you beast. We are proud alchemists from the Truth Association."

Argint sighed dramatically.

"Oh, I was hoping for a good fight. But with weaklings like you guys, I might as well forget about enjoying myself."

"You dare—"

"Enough talk. Let's fight," Argint interrupted, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. Without waiting for a response, she lunged at the group.

The blonde man swung his metal rod, its surface crackling with electricity, but Argint sidestepped effortlessly, her speed blurring her movements. Her claws slashed upward, tearing through his suit and sending him sprawling backward with a gash across his chest.

"Body enhancements… how pathetic."

The brunette with the chalk quickly scrawled a symbol in the air, and a fiery glyph materialized before her. Flames erupted from the sigil, roaring toward Argint like a living beast.

Argint smirked, leaping into the air to avoid the flames. She twisted mid-flight, landing behind the woman with feline grace. Before the alchemist could react, Argint's claws raked across the glyph, disrupting its magic and causing the flames to dissipate.

"Not bad," Argint said, her voice dripping with mockery. "But not good enough."

Another man charged her from the side, wielding a pair of daggers that gleamed with an unnatural blue light. He moved with precision, aiming for her vital points, but Argint's enhanced reflexes made him look sluggish. She ducked beneath one strike, grabbed his wrist mid-swing, and flung him across the room with bone-shattering force.

"You guys are really bottom of the barrel."

The remaining two alchemists hesitated, their confidence faltering as they witnessed their comrades being dismantled. One of them, a petite woman with jet-black hair, pulled a vial from her pocket and hurled it at Argint.

The glass shattered at her feet, releasing a thick, greenish mist that clung to the air. The acrid smell burned her nostrils, and she immediately recognized it as a toxin mixed with white wood ash designed to paralyze.

"Really? Poison?" Argint scoffed, holding her breath as she stepped back. Her claws sliced through the air, creating gusts that dispersed the mist before it could take full effect.

The alchemist's face twisted in frustration as she reached for another vial, but Argint was already upon her. With a swift kick to the woman's stomach, she sent her crashing into a wall, leaving her crumpled and unconscious.

"Four down, one to go," Argint said, turning her attention to the last alchemist.

The final man, a tall figure with dark hair, raised his hands in surrender, his face pale and drenched in sweat.

"P-please, I'm just an apprentice! I don't want to die!"

Argint narrowed her eyes, her claws retracting slightly as she stepped closer.

"If you value your life, tell me where your boss is hiding."

The apprentice stammered, pointing toward a staircase at the far end of the hall.

"H-he's on the top floor. Room 2213. Please, just let me go!"

Argint tilted her head, considering his plea. Then she leaned in, her voice low and menacing.

"Scram. And pray I don't see your face again."

The man didn't need to be told twice. He bolted for the exit, tripping over his feet in his haste to escape.

Argint exhaled slowly, her claws retracting fully as she straightened. Stay connected via My Virtual Library Empire

"Amateurs," she muttered, tapping her communicator.

"Amena, the first floor is clear. I'm heading up."

"Understood," Amena replied. "Be cautious. The upper levels are heavily fortified."

Argint smirked as she approached the staircase, her steps echoing in the empty corridor.

"Fortified or not, I'll tear through whatever stands in my way."

With that, she ascended, her mind focused and her body primed for the battles to come.