Ex rank talent Awakening: 100% Dodge rate

"What happened to you?" Drakonix asked, his voice low with disbelief as he stared at the girl before him.

Rebecca's eyes held no warmth as she answered, "That doesn't matter now. I survived, had someone help me and make me stronger… and now I'm back, to take revenge for my father."

There was a hint of sorrow in Drakonix's gaze. "Rebecca... I don't think your father would be happy seeing you walk down this path," he said gently, hoping to reach the tender heart that once existed beneath her hardened shell. "You were once kind... he loved that part of you."

But Rebecca simply turned her head, her expression unreadable. "I'm relieved to see that you're okay. My purpose here has been accomplished. Goodbye," she said, and without so much as a sound, she vanished into the shadows, leaving behind a stunned and sorrowful Drakonix.

Beside him, Leviathan watched her cousin's reaction. "Well, that didn't go as planned, did it?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Drakonix said nothing. He stood there in silence, staring at the place where Rebecca had disappeared, her cold words echoing in his mind.

---

Elsewhere, cloaked in darkness, Rebecca sat calmly on a throne fashioned from swirling shadows. Her posture was relaxed, almost lazy, but her mind was sharp and focused. The encounter with Drakonix lingered only briefly before fading from her thoughts like a fleeting breeze. She had no time for sentiment.

Her next target weighed on her mind.

It didn't take long to choose.

The Dwarf King.

She melted into the shadows once more—silent, swift, and unseen—as the hunt resumed.

---

Far below the mountains, in the fortified halls of stone and steel, the Dwarf King paced restlessly. The flickering torchlight cast long shadows across the marbled floor, and each echo of his footsteps was heavy with unease.

Something was coming.

He could feel it—like a hammer hanging over his head, ready to fall.

He didn't want to end up like the Titans. Nor did he wish to perish as the Elf Queen had, her death whispered of in hushed fear throughout the realm.

"I won't go down like them," he muttered, his hands clenched into fists.

Finally, he made up his mind.

He marched down the ancient stone corridors toward the secret vault, his expression grim with purpose. Deep within the mountain, hidden from all but the royal bloodline, the vault held the culmination of dwarven brilliance—masterpieces of war and invention forged over centuries.

As he reached the reinforced door, he pressed his palm against the ancient seal. Mechanisms shifted and clicked with deep metallic groans as the vault opened before him.

His heart stopped.

The room was empty.

Not a single artifact. Not a single coin. Every treasure, every sacred piece of dwarven legacy—gone.

The Dwarf King stumbled forward, his breath caught in his throat, and fell to his knees.

Gone… all of it. His life's work, and that of other dwarves… vanished.

"No… no, no, no!" he whispered, his voice cracking.

He staggered around the vault, as if unwilling to believe his eyes. "Who would do this?"

That was when he saw it.

A tendril of shadow—slithering slowly like a coiled serpent—lingered in a corner, dark as oblivion, darker than any cave or mine he'd ever descended into.

He narrowed his eyes.

This wasn't natural.

As he turned toward it, a shape emerged—partially hidden in the shadows.

A woman sat leisurely on a throne of living darkness, barely visible unless one was as observant as the Dwarf King himself.

"You!" he barked, pointing a trembling finger. "Who are you?! What did you do to my treasure?!"

Rebecca smiled faintly, her tone casual, as if discussing a business deal. "Don't blame me. I stumbled in by accident… noticed some human treasures mixed in with dwarven gold, items that didn't belong here. So, I took them. Along with some interest."

"You… you took everything?! As interest?!" the Dwarf King repeated, aghast.

"Obviously," Rebecca said, brushing her hair back with one hand. "They were hardly enough to cover the accumulated interest over a century, but I'm kind—and forgiving—so I let it slide."

"Kind?! Forgiving?! You're a demon! No—you're worse than a demon!" the Dwarf King roared. "Give me back my treasure!"

He stretched out his hand, calling for his ego weapon—his beloved warhammer that had never once failed to heed his summons.

But nothing happened.

His eyes widened. He tried again.

Still nothing.

"What… what did you do to my weapon?" he asked, voice trembling.

Realization dawned like a dagger to the chest. He had stored the hammer here to enhance the prestige of the vault, believing it safer than anywhere else. He had never imagined a day would come when it would betray him by staying silent.

Regret crushed him.

Rebecca chuckled softly. "Come now. One ego weapon and you're already having a meltdown? For someone who took one of ours—a symbol of human strength—you sure do complain a lot."

A heavy, black hammer materialized in her hand, pulsing with dark energy. The Dwarf King's heart sank.

That was his hammer.

Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. "Give it back! I never even used the human ego weapon I took! I only kept it for safekeeping!"

Rebecca didn't flinch. She stayed seated, cold and unmoved.

Then the Dwarf King lost all semblance of control.

With a roar of fury, he charged at her, his body crackling with dormant strength.

But he didn't get far.

"URGH!"

A colossal force slammed into him, sending him flying backward across the vault.

He groaned, lifting his head—and froze.

A towering figure stood in the shadows, wearing a plain black mask with the number 6 painted in stark white. His broad frame was cloaked in a dark robe, and he wielded two enormous axes, each gleaming with a sinister edge.

"What… what is this?" the Dwarf King muttered, struggling to his feet.

Rebecca gestured lazily. "That? One of my servants. I took him as part of the interest for the destruction of my clan… after all, I did pay the debt in full."

The masked orc stood silently, like a monument of vengeance.

The vault darkened further, shadows curling like smoke. The entrance vanished as if it never existed. The walls absorbed all sound. No escape. No outside help.

It was a tomb now.

The Dwarf King's face twisted with fear. "Wait… are you the one who's been killing clan leaders?" he asked, his voice cracking.

Rebecca stared at him, unblinking, her gaze making him feel like the biggest fool in the world.

And then, as understanding finally broke through the fog of his panic, the Dwarf King paled.

"It's you…" he whispered, eyes wide. "It's really you…"