Zetius and the maid exchanged an odd look before she realised he wasn’t a guest.
He lunged at her at full speed, covering her mouth with his hand before she could react. She tried to scream, but it was completely muffled.
“Shhhh,” he hushed. The maid’s eyes welled with tears, her body trembling in terror.
“Please, I’m not here to hurt you. Nod if you understand,” Zetius whispered into her ear.
She nodded, though still shaking. Her frail fra beneath the loose maid uniform revealed she couldn’t possibly overpower him, even if she tried.
“I know your master hasn’t been treating you or any of his slaves right. I’m here to change that,” Zetius said gently, slowly easing his grip to allow her to breathe more freely.
“Now, I just need to get into this room. Can you help with that?” he asked, guiding her towards the office’s door.
The maid nodded, pointing at her apron pocket. Zetius reached in and retrieved a set of keys.
“Here, you unlock it for ,” he instructed.
The maid took the keys from him, selected a golden one, and slid it into the keyhole. A few twists, and the chanism clicked before she opened the door for him.
As they stepped inside and closed the door behind them, Zetius let the maid go.
Her dark eyes stared at him questioningly.
“Sorry if I scared you. I’m Zetius. What’s your na?” he asked softly, offering a small smile.
Rubbing her slender forearms, she replied, “It’s Cindia—”
Zetius’s expression faltered in surprise. “You wouldn’t happen to be related to Cintia and May from the apothecary shop, would you?”
Cindia’s jaw dropped. She quickly cupped her mouth, her wide eyes stared at him more intensely. “Yes! You know my sister? Who are you?”
He studied her face; the resemblance was uncanny. Her features mirrored her sister’s, and under the sunlight, her hair shimred with that sa dark blue hue.
Tak! Tak!
A slight tap on the window startled Zetius, but once he saw it was Ziyue, he composed himself and opened it.
“Stop flirting with the maid, amateur!” she scolded, her brow twitching with irritation.
“My bad...” Zetius replied sheepishly.
“I’ll listen in on what they’re saying. anwhile, you search the room for anything useful. Got it?” Ziyue instructed. He nodded obediently.
Once the assassin girl disappeared from view, Zetius closed the window and turned to Cindia.
“Well, Cindia. What a coincidence, I’ve been sheltered by your sister. Let , umm, get back to my mission,” he said, then began rifling through the cabinets, filled with docunts and folders.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not ant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Cindia stood guard near the door, watching the hallway closely, pressing her ear against the wall to ensure no one was coming.
At the bottom cabinet, Zetius stumbled across a gemstone with a golden fra. In its centre was a strange button-like protrusion.
“What’s this? The design looks familiar...” he muttered. Next to the gemstone were fifteen golden coins — worth well over a hundred thousand credits.
His eyes glead. “I shouldn’t steal... but I’m desperate for funds right now.”
Without further thought, he pocketed the coins and the apparatus.
He moved to the shelf behind the office chair, filled with books and luxurious displays — collectible arc relics and worn-out Arcanite harnessers. On the bottom shelf, he found a contract agreent between the Dunkelheit Empire and the magistrate of Tien Long.
“This is it. Tien’s planning to side with Dunkelheit... and he’ll have an Armatus fleet of his own. Holy Gaia…” Zetius skimd the details.
Suddenly, a voice cried out in panic, “Ambush! Ambush!”
Zetius jolted upright, stuffing the contract into his pocket. His ears picked up a familiar whirring sound from the other side of the door — disturbingly like a plasma cannon charging.
“Cindia!” he shouted.
His body surged forward on instinct, stretching his arms towards the maid. Ti seed to slow.
Zetius grabbed her, placing himself between her and the door, reacting without hesitation.
Whack— “Phoros!” he cried.
The wooden door splintered as energy blasted through. The sphere of Phoros manifested just in ti to absorb part of the impact.
Shatter! The barrier collapsed within seconds, sending them flying across the room. Zetius held Cindia close, shielding her with his body.
They hit the ground with a loud thud, rolling several tis before coming to a stop. Zetius had taken the brunt of the fall.
“Ugh... my Phoros is bloody awful,” he groaned, scrambling to his feet. Cindia lay dazed on the carpet, but appeared unhard.
“Stay low, Cindia,” he whispered, raising his guard.
“What do we have here? A cute lil’ rat! Hehehehe!” A familiar voice rang out, his laugh like a hyena’s.
“It’s Pael... in green armour,” Zetius muttered, now recognising him. Earlier, the man hadn’t been in his trademark helt.
The Armatus knight, with a futuristic mohawk fin on his helt, stepped through the damaged doorway, his cannon aid directly at Zetius.
Zetius’s eyes narrowed. “Let’s dance, you bastard. Pael!”
Raising a brow, Pael smirked with arrogant amusent. “Huh? You know ?”
From the corner of his eye, Zetius saw Cindia crawl into a far corner, curling up in fear.
“Good. Now take it to the grave!” Pael lunged, his punch flying with incredible speed.
Zetius sidestepped, avoiding the blow and countering with an elbow swing to the head.
Crack!
The visor shattered, shards scattering. Pael staggered, taking a step back.
“Give a sec!” he snarled, clawing at the debris in his face.
Zetius didn’t wait. He charged again, landing a powerful knee to Pael’s gut.
The armour plate buckled under the force.
“Wait! Wait!” Pael gasped, activating his armguard. The plasma cannon began to hum.
But Zetius moved with inhuman speed. He tackled the knight, slamming him into the ground. The cannon fired blindly, blasting a hole into the ceiling.
Zetius’s eyes glowed dangerously red. Raising both hands high, he prepared the final blow.
Pael’s eyes widened in disbelief. “How... how could a man be stronger than a knight?!”
“Yaaaaa!” Zetius roared, adrenaline coursing through him.
He brought his fists down like a wrecking ball, smashing the helt’s plating. Pael let out a final wheeze through a broken nose and shattered teeth before falling limp.
Zetius stood over the body, panting.
“How... did I get so strong?” he murmured, staring at his bloodless red knuckles — not a single scratch.
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