Sandra arrived at the teleportation portal in the blink of an eye, landing at the edge of a dense forest. The moonlight glinted off her crimson armor as she steadied herself, sword gripped firmly in her hand. The air was thick with the scent of blood and smoke.
The woods surrounding the Broissco family manor.
She moved swiftly, senses on high alert. The faint cries of unseen animals mingled with the rustling leaves, creating an eerie symphony. Shadows shifted between the trees, but nothing stirred beyond the natural sounds of the night. Even so, she tightened her grip on her weapon, every muscle poised for danger.
Then, the voice returned.
["Tell me—how do you know she's the heir to the Broissco family? There's still a baby in your mother's womb."]
The telepathic message rang in her mind, cutting through her focus like a blade.
Sandra froze.
Telepathy had limits—distance, strength, clarity. Whoever this was had followed her here.
But how?
Her eyes flicked around, scanning for a hidden presence. Nothing. No footsteps, no breath, no aura she could sense. If this person was still in Brias, their telepathy covered an extraordinary range.
Was this another monster like the Duke?
Or… was it really a ghost?
Sandra's thoughts drifted to her twin brother, Uno. When he was eleven, he had just learned to control his mana output for magic fire and fuse it to his sword. If Third Sister is still alive after being abandoned in a place overrun by monsters… She swallowed hard. Then Mother wasn't exaggerating when she called her a monster.
A bitter chuckle escaped her. "You know, there's another person in the family who was called a monster—the current head of the Broissco family, my father. Even so, Uno's disappearance was never her fault."
Shaking off the weight of old memories, Sandra refocused. She pressed her hand against the city's protective barrier, ready to assess the damage.
Then, she froze.
"This is..." Her breath hitched. "The barrier is intact."
A heavy silence followed.
["What do you mean?"]
A pit formed in Sandra's stomach. A sickening premonition churned within her.
Slowly, she raised her hand, her voice barely above a whisper. "With the blood of Broissco in my veins, I command you. Protect the city. Burn down every enemy of Broissco—be it demon, monster, devil… even human."
The telepathic voice hesitated.
["Even human? The enemy… could it be an insider?"]
Sandra's expression darkened. "There was no breach. No crack. No failure in the magic. Someone let them in."
Her grip on her sword tightened as she forced herself forward, moving faster now. Humans scare her more than any monster. That's why she chose the battlefield. Fortunately, all these years humanity still struggled with the demons, they were too busy to pick a war against each other.
The Scarlet Team would take at least two hours to arrive on horseback. Until then, she was alone.
As Sandra pressed deeper into the forest, the acrid stench of charred wood and something metallic filled the air. Then she saw it—a monster demon's corpse sprawled across the ground. Jagged, ice-crusted wounds marred its blackened hide. Steam curled into the night, where frost met flame, the earth beneath scorched and cracked.
Sandra knelt beside the body, her pulse quickening.
"Ice magic?" she murmured. "No one in the Broissco family wields ice magic."
Her fingers ghosted over the precise burn patterns. The scene unsettled her.
"Who could have done this?"
As she moved forward, the carnage worsened. More corpses littered the forest floor—each marked by the same eerie duality of fire and ice. Some monsters lay frozen, their limbs shattered into crystalline shards. Others were charred beyond recognition, reduced to smoldering husks.
Sandra's brow furrowed. "This isn't the work of soldiers. Even the best mages can't wield fire and ice simultaneously."
Then, the voice echoed once more, calm and deliberate.
["She's still alive."]
Sandra froze mid-step, spinning around. The forest remained empty, its shadows stretching long and silent.
"Who are you?" she whispered.
No answer. Only the wind rustling through the trees.
The closer she got to the estate, the more devastation she found. Trees lay splintered and blackened, fire and frost warring across the land. By the time she reached the outskirts of the Broissco manor, she was trembling.
Bodies were strewn near the outer walls—monsters and humans alike. Blood stained the ground, fresh enough to glisten under the moonlight.
Sandra's breath hitched. The estate was under siege when Mother fled. So who…?
The manor loomed ahead, swallowed by an unnatural silence. The thick scent of iron curled in Sandra's nostrils, making her stomach churn. No signs of life stirred within the cold, shadowed walls.
"Where is she?"
["She's in her room."]
Sandra's grip on her sword tightened. "And where is her room?"
["What? Are you kidding me?"]
Her frown deepened. "Before marriage, I spent most of my time at the barracks. What do you expect?"
A reluctant sigh echoed in her mind before the voice finally guided her to the second floor. It wasn't a nursery or a grand chamber, but a simple guest room opposite Sandra's own childhood quarters—one used by distant relatives during visits.
She pushed the door open.
Cold air hit her first, followed by the pungent stench of burnt flesh.
"Third Sister?"
The bed was disheveled, the sheets twisted as if someone had just fled from them. Yet the room stood empty.
["She's under the bed."]
Sandra hesitated only a moment before crouching down. In the dim light, she spotted a small, trembling bundle pressed against the farthest corner, curled up like a wounded animal.
"Third Sister," she murmured, her voice steady despite the tightness in her chest. "It's me. I'm your Second Sister. It's okay. You can come out now."
A weak, shaky voice answered, barely above a whisper. "Second Sis…? Did Mom send you?"
Sandra's throat tightened. "Yes," she lied gently. "Mom sent me to pick you up."
Slowly, cautiously, the little girl inched forward. Every movement was stiff, as if pain clung to her limbs, weighing her down with every step. Her breaths were shallow, her small frame trembling under the strain. Sandra remained still, her gaze steady and patient, unwilling to startle her further.
Gently, she reached out, her fingers barely grazing the child's arm. The moment they made contact, the girl recoiled with a sharp gasp, her entire body tensing like a cornered animal. A flicker of something raw and instinctual passed through her wide, fearful eyes—pain, distrust, and something deeper, something fragile.
Sandra's heart clenched. What kind of suffering had carved such fear into a child so young? She slowly withdrew her hand, careful not to make any sudden movements. "It's okay," she murmured, her voice soft but steady. "I won't hurt you."
The little girl didn't answer, her tiny fists clenched tightly at her sides. But she didn't retreat either. And for now, that was enough.
"Where are you hurt? Let me see."
"I'm fine…" the girl murmured weakly.
Before Sandra could press further, the child's body sagged. She collapsed into Sandra's arms, unconscious.
Sandra carefully lifted her onto the bed, cradling the frail form. But as she pulled back the tattered cloak draped over the child's shoulders, her breath caught.
Her blood ran cold.
The girl's small body was riddled with frost, her skin tinged an unnatural icy blue, as if winter itself had seeped into her veins. Her left hand was blackened, charred beyond recognition—nothing but lifeless coal. Her right arm ended in a jagged stump where her hand should have been.
Sandra's breath hitched.
"This is bad."
She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to think. If she used a healing potion now, the wounds would seal as they were—her sister's missing hand lost forever.
Reaching into her pouch, she pulled out her communication stone. A faint glow pulsed across its surface, signaling an incoming connection.
Her husband's voice burst through, sharp with alarm. "Are you crazy? Get out of there now! Meet me in Brias!"
Sandra's grip tightened. "There's no danger here anymore. The monsters are all dead. But I need a healer sent to the estate."
A pause. Then his voice, slightly softer but still tense. "Are you hurt?"
"It's not me." She exhaled slowly. "It's my little sister. She's in critical condition."
Silence crackled between them. Then, "What's wrong?"
Sandra hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "Her body is freezing cold, but she's not frozen. Her left hand is completely burned, and her right… it's missing. I don't know if it was fire, ice, or something else that did this. I've never seen magic like it."
Her husband didn't answer immediately. The weight of his silence pressed against her.
"The monsters have stopped coming here for now," he said at last, "but there are too many wounded."
Sandra's voice hardened. "Two hours. If no healer arrives by then, I'll have to use a potion. Focus on the residents for now."
A beat passed before he sighed. "I'll send someone. Give me an hour."
Sandra closed her eyes briefly. "Thank you… for protecting my homeland."
His reply was quiet, almost hesitant. "Of course… I know what it's like to have no homeland. I won't let you lose yours."
Her lips curled into the faintest, bittersweet smile. "What are you talking about? Right now, you're my home."
The line fell silent. Even without words, she could feel his unspoken emotions lingering between them.
Lowering the communication stone, Sandra turned back to her sister, gently tucking a blanket around her frail body.
"You've been through so much, haven't you?" she whispered, her heart aching with guilt and fierce determination.