Cameraman Never Dies

Seraphis didn't waste time. The corridor leading to the commotion was a wreck, chunks of stone scattered everywhere like overcooked breadcrumbs, like really...really overcooked.

Screams echoed faintly ahead, but she barely registered them. She rolled her neck, cracked her knuckles, and adjusted the grip on the sword strapped to her waist. Not that she needed it— her fists were more than enough to handle most problems.

A half-dead man groaned on the floor, she quickly unsheathed and ended his pain. Blood started to come out from a straight line across his neck, and the head slided off slowly.

She could hear voices ahead behind the grand door. "That clown might have caused a commotion." She sighed, the noises were pretty intense— as if an ant colony was disturbed by an anteater.

When she finally burst into the large hall, the cultists inside froze mid-step. The room was barely lit, flickering lanterns casting eerie shadows on the walls. At least twenty of them stood there, armed and ready, their faces obscured by black hoods.

"Who the hell are you supposed to be?" one of them barked, stepping forward with a mace slung over his shoulder.

Seraphis ignored him, her sharp eyes scanning the space like a seasoned fighter should be. It was big, circular, with a high ceiling. Plenty of room to swing a sword— or throw a punch. She took note of the two giant stone statues at either side of the room. It was of a person sitting inside a cloak with crossed arms, one arm holding a stone mirror while the other holding an orb that strangely felt like the moon. He also had many extremely polished stone mirrors on his head creating a jagged crown.

"I'm someone you're gonna regret meeting," she said casually, unsheathing her katana-like sword with a single, fluid motion. She shifted the sword to her left hand and readied a fist in her right hand.

The cultist with the mace sneered. "Big talk for—"

He didn't get to finish. Seraphis darted forward, faster than a woman of her size could have with a body that thin. Her fist collided with his chest before he even knew she'd moved. The sickening crunch of ribs breaking echoed through the hall as he flew backward, slamming into one of the statues and crumpling to the ground in a heap.

The room exploded into chaos.

Three cultists rushed her at once. Seraphis shifted the sword to the right and swung the sword, the blade whistling through the air as it cleaved through the first two with a single, horizontal slash. The third hesitated, just for a second— long enough for Seraphis to sheath her sword, grab his head with her hand, and slam it into the stone floor.

"Next," she growled, unsheathing up her sword again.

A spear came at her from the left. She caught it mid-thrust, yanked the weapon forward, and sent its wielder stumbling toward her. With a quick upper kick, she sent him flying into the ceiling, where he stayed for a moment before crashing down in a heap, without his head.

Find exclusive stories on My Virtual Library Empire

"Wow, sorry." Seraphis muttered, "You guys really don't learn, huh?" she turned toward the remaining cultists.

They hesitated now, unsure, but one of them shouted, "Get her! She's just one woman!"

"Oh, just one woman, am I?" Seraphis smirked, raising an eyebrow. She grabbed the nearest chunk of broken stone, about the size of a barrel, and hurled it like a cannonball into their group. Bodies scattered like bowling pins, but with added blood effect, screams followed in its wake.

Another cultist tried to flank her, but she turned and swung her sword in an arc. The blade didn't connect— she didn't need it to, the blood mist did its job. The man was cut in half, he fell to the floor mid-sprint without even registering what had just happened.

"Any of you want to keep this going?" she called out, planting her sword into the ground and cracking her knuckles again.

The last few cultists exchanged glances, then bolted for the door.

Seraphis sighed. "Cowards." She took a step forward, but the ground suddenly shook beneath her. She froze, her hand instinctively going to her sword.

A massive, hulking figure emerged from the shadows— a man nearly twice her size, wielding a hammer almost as tall as she was. His face was hidden by a steel mask, but his silver eyes where visible.

"Finally," Seraphis said, grinning. "A real fight."

The giant didn't waste time, swinging his hammer with enough force to pulverize the floor where Seraphis had been standing a moment ago. She darted to the side, her movements impossibly quick, and retaliated with a downward slash. The blade hit the hammer, sparks flying as the two weapons clashed.

For several minutes, the two traded blows. The room shook with each impact, chunks of stone and dust falling from the ceiling. Seraphis was grinning the whole time, her blood pumping. "Where were you hiding? I was getting bored."

The man looked at her as if she was some kind of insect not worth his time. "I have other works than dealing with vile women."

"You hit like a cart horse," she taunted, ignoring the insult and dodging another swing. "Nobody even uses them nowadays."

She stepped in close, driving her fist into the giant's stomach. He staggered back, and she didn't give him a chance to recover. With a powerful swing of her sword, she shattered the hammer, the pieces clattering to the floor.

The giant stared at her for a moment, then fell to his knees. Seraphis raised her sword high and brought it down, ending the fight with a single, decisive strike.

She exhaled, rolling her shoulders, and glanced around the room. "Well, that's handled."

She made her way toward the next room, killing the cultists who managed to run away when she was fighting with the giant. She stepped over rubble and bodies alike, and pushed open another heavy wooden door, leading into another corridor that led to a bigger corridor.@@novelbin@@

Why do all of them hate women so much? She thought as she strode forward. Was the church of night always this way? Speaking of which... there was not a single woman among the cultists, but there were plenty of followers. She shrugged and chuckled lightly, Heh! Women are too intelligent to fall into a cult, that must be it.

She emerged in another grand hall and the sight stopped her in her tracks. The floor was soaked with blood— fresh blood, still pooling. Corpses lay everywhere, mangled and broken, some barely recognizable as human, some were just pieces of flesh.

In the center of it all stood Judge, leaning casually against the wall, twirling one of his pistols in his hand. His mask's cheery grin was splattered with red, his black vest somehow spotless beneath the carnage.

Seraphis pinched the bridge of her nose. "Judge, what the hell is wrong with you?"

He looked up, tilting his head innocently. "Oh, hey, Master. Took you long enough."

She gestured at the carnage. "You absolute psychopath. Did you have to turn them into… into this?"

Judge shrugged. "I was creative."

Seraphis groaned, rubbing her temples. "You need serious help."

"Noted," Judge said, grinning behind his mask. "So, what's next?"

She stared at him for a long moment, then sighed. "Clean this up. I'm not stepping over any of the corpses here. Is this also a part of your genius plan?"

Judge chuckled. "Aw, come on. You know you're impressed."

"Clean. It. Up."

"No need to clean it" Judge grumbled, holstering his pistols. "The cleaner will arrive shortly."

"Sometimes I wonder if you are the grand devil himself" Seraphis snapped, stepping carefully over a particularly mangled body, her long boots somehow stayed dry. "And for the love of Eldris, stop being such a damn freak."