The intruder's limp body lay motionless on the cold marble floor, his face partially obscured by the mask. Layla approached cautiously, Luna by her side, her claws still extended and her wings half-spread in a protective stance.

"Restrain him,"

Layla commanded in a harsh voice. Raziel immediately stepped forward to fulfill her wish, but he was cautious with the enemy.

Luna growled softly but obeyed, using her claws to pin the man's wrists to the ground. Her tail wrapped around his legs like iron shackles.

Layla crouched low, her piercing gaze fixed on the figure. She pressed the tip of her blade against his chest, just above his heart, watching for any signs of deception. The eerie stillness of his body made her wary.

"Who sent you?"

She demanded, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

The man didn't respond. His eyes, half-lidded and glazed, stared through her as if she wasn't even there. Layla frowned, recognizing the vacant expression of a magically controlled puppet.

"Not going to talk, huh? We'll see about that."

she muttered, tightening her grip on the hilt of her sword.

With a swift motion, she yanked off his mask, revealing a disturbingly featureless face—smooth and devoid of distinguishing features except for a thin, red rune etched along his temple. Her stomach twisted in recognition.

Layla recognized the energy that was trying to burst out of this puppet.

Before she could react further, the rune on the puppet's temple flared a vivid crimson.

"Back!"

She shouted, pulling Luna with her.

The puppet's chest expanded unnaturally as a network of glowing lines spread across its body like molten veins. A low, resonant hum filled the air—familiar, deadly. It was preparing to explode.

Layla slammed her palm against the nearest wall, whispering an incantation that formed a shimmering magical barrier around the puppet. The hum intensified, the magical lines burning hotter—then, suddenly, the light dimmed and the energy dissipated with a sputtering hiss.

The puppet's body sagged, lifeless once more.

"What...?"

Layla breathed, lowering her blade. The spell had been interrupted, stopped at the last second—but not by her. Someone had pulled the trigger and then aborted it deliberately.

Luna growled uneasily, her sharp senses catching something in the magical residue still hanging in the air. Layla touched the rune on the puppet's temple, her fingertips tingling with residual energy. A dangerous thought surfaced in her mind.

"They're still connected."

Wasting no time, she closed her eyes and extended her magical senses outward, focusing on the fading trace of magic. Her mind latched onto the puppet's magical link, following its faint thread back to its source like a hunter tracking wounded prey.

The connection was faint, flickering, but it was still there. She pressed deeper into the magical web, her breath growing shallow as she poured more of her energy into the search. Her mind brushed against something—a distant, dark presence that pulsed with power and malevolence.

A sharp, cold pressure gripped her chest, squeezing like a vice.

"Got you..."

She hissed through clenched teeth, tightening her magical grip on the connection. She could feel the tether trembling, resisting her probe but still anchored. If she could just...

Suddenly, a violent force surged down the magical link, crackling like a lightning strike. It hit her with staggering force, severing the connection and throwing her mind back into her body.

Layla gasped, her eyes snapping open. Her vision blurred for a moment before steadying. Her breathing came in ragged gulps, her body trembling from the magical backlash.

A sharp, burning pain throbbed in her right hand.

Looking down, her eyes widened in disbelief. A deep, angry slash marred her palm, blood seeping from the wound in slow, deliberate rivulets.

"Fuck, this sucks..."

She whispered, staring in stunned silence.

Luna chirped anxiously, nudging her arm with a worried rumble. Layla couldn't tear her eyes from the gash. The wound was fresh—too real. It shouldn't have been possible for someone to harm her through a magical link, not with Luna's protective shell safeguarding her spirit.

Unless...

"Those fuckers…Did they break through a dragon's defenses? They sure have some guts..."

she whispered, realization dawning like ice water down her spine. "

Her pulse thundered in her ears. Luna's magical shell wasn't just a barrier; it was an extension of her soul—a living, breathing protective ward forged through countless battles. No one had ever breached it before.

Whoever she had touched through the magical link was far more powerful—and far more dangerous—than she'd anticipated.

"They were waiting for me."

Layla muttered, her voice edged with anger and unease.

Luna snarled again, her tail curling protectively around Layla's injured hand as though she could shield her from further harm. Layla gently stroked the dragon's scaled head, forcing herself to calm down.

"This isn't over,"

She promised quietly, her mind already racing with strategies and contingencies. Whoever had struck her through the link had done it with precision and intent. They had wanted her to know they were watching—and that they were capable of reaching her.

But why stop there? Why not finish the job?

"This was a warning."

Layla realized, her blood running cold.

She clenched her injured hand into a fist, ignoring the searing pain. If her enemies thought this would intimidate her, they were gravely mistaken.

"Let's see how they like being hunted,"

She murmured darkly, her gaze sharpening like tempered steel.

Luna growled in agreement, her wings spreading protectively around her mistress.

The game had changed—but Layla was far from beaten. She would find them, no matter the cost.

And this time, she wouldn't be playing defense. Now, it was time to head out and show these people what she could do. But before Layla could make any plans, there was a sudden hint of warning in the air.

They had chased the man all the way to the front of the gate, and on the other side stood an imperial guard who carried a message in his hands. His letter had the sigle of imperial family and Layla already had a good idea what his letter contained.