The dim glow of lanterns flickered inside a small inn near the window, casting shadows over a group of five people seated around a circular table. The air was thick with whispered rumors.

  “Have you heard of the Blood Baroness?” an old man asked, his voice hushed but firm.

  “I’ve been hearing that name a lot this month,” a woman replied, stirring her drink absentmindedly.

  A man leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper. “They say her eyes can see everything that happens in Scrapville... and that she made Rodney the Silent scream in pain.”

  Another man shook his head, his expression grim. “I heard she can make you lose your mind with a single gaze.”

  The second woman scoffed, crossing her arms. “Sounds like a story to scare children. But I did hear she massacred the Crimson Bandits single-handedly... and not a single drop of blood touched her.”

  A silence fell over the table. The old man finally spoke again, his tone heavy. “And strangely enough, we haven’t seen any Crimson Bandits around lately. Either way, she’s not someone to take lightly. If you owe her, make sure you pay on time.”

  Just then, footsteps echoed outside the window.

  “That’s her!” the old man whispered harshly. “Don’t look at her. Lower your eyes.”

  The group obeyed instantly, dropping their gazes to their drinks.

  Outside, Nailah passed by, catching their fear through the corner of her eye. She smirked.

  She continued walking, her boots clicking against the pavement, until she stood before a hideout. The one that used to belong to the Crimson Bandits. Now, it was hers.

  She pushed open the door, stepping inside. The once blood-stained room flashed in her mind, bodies of bandits lying in heaps, Crimson Stars gasping their last breath at her feet.

  Not only that, but she had it refurnished. A sturdy table stood in the center, replacing the cluttered mess from before. Damon’s old crates, which had served as makeshift seats, were gone, swapped for proper chairs. A couch sat against the wall, giving the space a more organized feel. The once-abandoned warehouse was starting to resemble a real headquarters. It looked inviting, almost like it was waiting for guests.

  But Nailah stood alone, her expression unreadable, like a lone wolf guarding its den.

  At the entrance, four peasants stood before her, heads lowered, avoiding her gaze.

  “We are done cleaning, ma’am,” one of them said timidly.

  Nailah reached into her coat and tossed them each a bag of coins. “Well done. You may go.”

  They scurried out without another word.

  Alone once more, Nailah sat in the large chair at the center of the room. She crossed her legs, her gaze drifting over the empty space.

  Silence.

  Her fingers tapped against the armrest as a thought crept into her mind.

  Perhaps greatness is just another word for loneliness.

  The memory hit her before she could push it away.

  Tom and Olivia stood in the doorway of their old apartment, bags in hand. She reached for them, but they stepped back.

  “Sorry, Big Sis…” Tom muttered.

  Olivia’s eyes were filled with sorrow. “We don’t recognize you anymore.”

  Then, they were gone.

  Nailah exhaled sharply, snapping back to the present.

  She had no time for memories.

  Besides, it wasn’t like she had been able to find people worthy of standing by her side.

  Why is that?

  The door creaked open, pulling her from her thoughts.

  Her body tensed.

  Her eyes narrowed as a foot stepped inside.

  Then, she saw him.

  Edward.

  Her breath hitched.

  “Hello, young mistress,” he greeted with a familiar warmth.

  Nailah shot up from her chair, her voice wavering. “Ed… Edward?!”

  He smiled. “Yes, I’m here now.”

  She closed the distance in an instant, wrapping her arms around him.

  “Edward! I thought you were dead!”

  Edward let out a small chuckle, hugging her tightly. “Yes, young mistress. I happen to be a hard one to kill.”

  But as he held her, a shiver ran down his spine.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  What a dark presence she has…

  He pulled her even closer.

  “I’m so sorry for leaving you alone all this time.”

  When they finally pulled away, Nailah smiled. “I’m just happy you survived.”

  Edward’s expression softened, but curiosity flickered in his eyes. “So... I hear they call you the Blood Baroness now. Why would people say such things about you?”

  Nailah shrugged. “Who knows?”

  Before Edward could respond, the door was suddenly kicked open.

  Four men stormed in.

  “Witch! We’re here for your head!”

  Nailah barely glanced at them, raising a finger. “I’m in the middle of something right now. Why don’t—”

  “Shut up!” the lead man barked, turning to his comrades. “Guys! Let’s get—”

  His words never finished.

  In the blink of an eye, his body split in two.

  Blood splattered against the floor as his torso fell to one side, his legs to the other.

  His comrades froze in horror.

  Nailah’s eyes glowed as she spoke, her voice filled with quiet fury.

  “Don’t interrupt me while I’m talking.”

  The remaining men stumbled backward, their bravado shattered.

  “W-We’re sorry!” one of them stammered. “Spare us!”

  “We’ll leave! You’ll never see us again!” another begged.

  Nailah pointed a single finger toward the fallen body. “Are you expecting me to clean that up?”

  One of the men nearly collapsed in fear. “Of course not! We’ll clean it for you!”

  Nailah smirked. “Good.”

  Edward’s voice suddenly boomed across the room.

  “Mistress! Enough!”

  Nailah turned, surprised by his outburst.

  Edward’s glare was sharp, his remaining hand clenched into a fist.

  He turned to the terrified men. “Leave.”

  One of them hesitated. “B-But…”

  Edward’s expression darkened. “I said leave!”

  They didn’t hesitate a second time.

  As they ran, Nailah’s eyes flickered again, and her finger twitched slightly.

  Before she could act, Edward grabbed her arm.

  She scowled. “What are you doing?”

  Edward’s grip tightened. “That’s what I should be asking you.”

  His jaw clenched as he stared at her.

  “So, the stories of you massacring a gang… They’re true.” His voice was filled with disbelief. “How did you change this much?”

  Nailah’s eyes burned with irritation. She shoved him back.

  Edward landed hard, but he didn’t look hurt, only stunned.

  “Stop acting like you’re my father,” Nailah snapped. “I’m becoming the best version of myself. Don’t get in my way!”

  Edward’s brows furrowed. “How is this the best version of yourself?”

  Nailah spread her arms wide, her voice rising with pride.

  “Look at how respected I am! When I walk, they open a path for me. When I stand before them, they bow. When I look down on them, they lower their eyes.”

  A slow smile stretched across her lips, dark and twisted.

  “The old me could never achieve that.”

  Edward’s frown deepened. “You’re not respected, mistress. You’re feared. That’s different.”

  Nailah’s expression soured. “It’s the same to me.”

  She pointed a warning finger at him. “I don’t want to hurt you, especially now that you only have one arm… but if you keep pushing, I won’t hesitate, Edward.”

  Edward stepped toward her, unfazed.

  “I don’t want to hurt you either,” he said, voice steady. “But it looks like I’ll have to knock some sense into you.”

  The tension in the room crackled like lightning.

  Neither of them backed down.

  A sharp crack echoed through the room as Edward’s palm met Nailah’s cheek. Her head snapped to the side, but before he could say anything, she struck back with the back of her hand. He misjudged her strength, and the impact caused him to stumble slightly, surprised by how much stronger Nailah had become in such a short time.

  Then, she drove her fist straight into his jaw.

  Edward, now aware of her capabilities, barely flinched before retaliating with a punch of his own.

  Blow after blow, they struck each other, neither willing to back down. Their bodies moved with raw instinct—no hesitation, no words, just the sharp sound of fists meeting flesh.

  Nailah suddenly swung her leg in a high kick. Edward caught it mid-air, gripping her ankle firmly. Before she could react, he spun her and threw her across the room.

  The air whooshed past her ears as she twisted in mid-air, trying to regain control. But Edward was already moving.

  With incredible speed, he dashed forward and appeared behind her before she could even hit the ground. His foot connected with her back, sending her crashing into the floor with a violent thud.

  Dust settled as silence filled the space.

  Minutes passed. Nailah lay on the cold ground, her body aching, bruises already forming. But instead of anger, she felt something else—acceptance. A slow smile spread across her lips.

  “Even with one arm, you’re still a monster,” she said, her voice breathy but amused.

  Edward sat nearby, completely unscathed. He shook his head, exhaling deeply. “I can’t believe you’ve gotten this strong in so little time.”

  His expression then darkened, his brows knitting together. “But, Mistress… this wickedness must stop. This isn’t you.”

  Nailah’s smile faded. Annoyance flickered in her eyes as she propped herself up on her elbows. “What choice do I have, huh? No matter how hard I tried, I’ve always been taken as a joke. Being ruthless was the only way to end that.”

  Edward’s jaw tightened. His gaze softened, but his voice remained firm. “Let me help you find another way.”

  Nailah stared at him, her body still tense. But deep inside, something wavered.

  Meanwhile, in a dimly lit alley, two men moved cautiously through the shadows. Buster and David carried a briefcase, their footsteps light against the damp cobblestones.

  At the alley’s end, a broad-shouldered figure sat hunched in the darkness, his silhouette barely illuminated by the flickering street lamp.

  The man’s voice rumbled through the alley like distant thunder. “Who are you? Looking for a fight?”

  Buster swallowed hard, his forehead beading with sweat. “No…”

  David remained silent, his fingers twitching nervously.

  Buster stepped forward, opening the briefcase. Inside, stacks of silver and bronze bills gleamed under the dim light.

  “We need your help,” he said.

  The man didn’t move. Then, after a moment of silence, he finally spoke.

  “Who’s the target?” His tone was indifferent. “If it’s a weakling, I’ll kill you.”

  Buster’s expression twisted with frustration, his fists clenching at the insult.

  “We need you to kill the Blood Baroness.”

  For the first time, the man reacted.

  A slow grin stretched across his face, his teeth gleaming in the dim light.

  “Interesting.”