On the other side of the blood dome, beneath the rain and the continuous lightning that illuminated the land, the seductive woman continued waiting patiently. She kept the formation active, her hands sliding with precision over the plate while injecting spiritual energy steadily. Completely unaware of the situation inside, she could feel the blood essence increasing within the formation.
A satisfied smile appeared on her face.
"It seems they had an excellent trip," she murmured, licking her lips with delight.
Although the blood of cultivators was much more effective for creating higher quality and quantity blood beads, she believed the sudden increase was simply due to the massive death of mortals trapped within the dome.
From an elevated position, V-12 kept his gaze fixed on the target.
Lying flat on the soaked ground among the underbrush, his body was covered in mud like a specter. Each movement was calculated, invisible. A true marksman, as patient as death itself. His hood blended with the shadows, and only the occasional flash of lightning revealed his silhouette, a hunter waiting for the moment to pull the trigger.
He gripped his black Mauser firmly, the barrel wrapped in cloth to disguise any reflections. Through the slits of his helmet, his eyes glowed intensely with each lightning flash, like two beacons in the darkness. He breathed slowly and steadily, his heartbeat synced with the earth, his mind focused on a single purpose: the perfect shot.
There were no doubts in him. Only calculations—wind, distance, trajectory. Every muscle was relaxed but prepared. Amid the chaos of the storm, V-12 was a bastion of deadly precision.
In the small village, a column of green smoke rose in the rainy night. A rudimentary signal—copper oxide and chlorophyll burning together—but effective enough for those who knew how to interpret it.
The woman's eyes blinked, momentarily confused, not understanding the meaning of the glowing smoke under the storm. She dismissed it immediately, considering it just another desperate attempt by the villagers to escape.
For V-12, however, everything changed.
"Message received."
The thought crossed his mind like a cold command. The green smoke indicated that the target was compromised, that the waiting time was over. It was time to act.
He remained still for another second, immersed in a sea of rain and thunder, his mind clearing further. Aligning his view on the iron sights of his Mauser.
He calculated the distance.
"Three hundred thirty meters. Elevation: minus two degrees."
He measured the wind's strength.
"South-southeast, thirty-nine kilometers per hour. Correction: twelve centimeters to the left."
He considered the weight of the bullet and its drop.
"Direct line shot, no obstacles. The mud won't affect the trajectory."
A controlled breath.
Inhale...
He counted the beats of his own heart, waiting for the natural pause between pulses, where the body and the weapon became one entity.
"Single shot. Impact point: left clavicle."
V-12's thumb gently caressed the safety. He lowered it silently. The world around him disappeared—there was no rain, no thunder, no blood formation. Only him, his rifle, and the target on the other side.
The woman, unaware of his presence, remained still, the formation plate in her hands. Her eyes were fixed on the glowing symbols dancing over the surface, completely absorbed in her task. She had no idea that from the shadows, a predator was watching her, his cold and calculating gaze fixed on every movement she made.
V-12, from his elevated position, pressed the trigger. The world seemed to stop for a second.
BANG!
A roar broke the storm, and the bullet shot out. It cut through the wind with a dull roar, as if the storm itself tried to stop it in vain. A barely perceptible whistle passed through the air, the bullet slicing through the darkness with deadly precision. The rain, the wind, nothing could stop it.
The woman, with her back turned, barely perceived the buzz of the shot. When her body jerked from the impact, a bloody hole appeared in her chest, the tissue torn by the force of the projectile. A moment of confusion crossed her mind before her eyes, full of terror, widened. Her vision blurred as her gaze dropped, terrified, to the bloody wound. She tried to speak, but only blood escaped from her mouth, a dark stream filling her lips and throat.
A breath of air escaped her, her body swaying, unable to stay upright. Life was fading quickly, and before she could understand what was happening, her figure fell to the ground with a dull thud. The formation plate slipped from her hand, rolling away from her body.
At that exact moment, the symbols on the plate began to flicker, the light flashing erratically. The energy that had sustained the formation started to fade.
With one last furious flash of light, the formation exploded upward. A red bubble, as if crystal shattering under unrelenting pressure, broke into a thousand fragments. A scent of blood hung in the air, fleeting and penetrating, before everything returned to calm. The wind continued its roar, and the thunder kept its course, as if nothing had happened, leaving only the echo of the storm in the darkness.
CLICK!
V-12 didn't take his eyes off the fallen target. With a precise movement, his hand slid toward the black Mauser. This time, the soft click of the bolt echoed in the air. The empty casing shot out, flying through the air and landing with a dull sound on the mud. In one fluid motion, he reloaded the new bullet. The lightning illuminated his face hidden beneath the helmet, but his eyes remained unwavering, cold.
His breathing was still deep and controlled, as if it were just a simple exercise. Unfazed, his lips moved.
"Target neutralized"
The echo of his words dissolved in the roar of the wind, as if they had never existed. The battle had ended the moment it had begun.
Inside the dome, when the formation disappeared, Ye Han and the Vespers were outside the inn, gazing at the sky, covered with dark clouds swirling forcefully.
Ye Han directed his gaze at the leader of the demonic cultivators, who lay kneeling on the ground covered in wounds, his face drenched by the rain, surrounded by two Vespers who were guarding him with rifles aimed at the back of his neck.
Not long ago, the prisoner had declared that the only way to deactivate the formation was from the outside, that the caster had to deactivate it or die.
"We'll take him back to Omega Zero," Ye Han said in a cold voice. "If he tries anything, kill him." The order came from his lips like a decree, with no room for compassion, while the storm roared around them.
The Vespers escorting the prisoner nodded respectfully at Ye Han's order.
From a distance, the villagers began to notice the disappearance of the blood dome. Some of the bravest, seeing that the threat had passed, opened the windows and stuck their heads out, while those who had remained hidden in the darkness began to emerge.
Some watched the Vespers cautiously, while others looked on with gratitude.
Soon, more and more people gathered. Among them, an experienced mercenary who was at the inn approached Ye Han. He stopped at a respectful distance and spoke in a deep voice:
"Thank you for your help."
"It's our mission," Ye Han nodded in response.
Meanwhile, the villagers continued to gather. Then an elderly man, with a wrinkled face and a cautious expression, slowly walked toward Ye Han, accompanied by a couple of guards whose eyes remained watchful, observing the Vespers with evident caution.