Xelix laughed like a madman.
His voice shrieked, echoing off the shelves of ancient books in the corner of the room. Enver stood frozen, eyes widening almost perfectly round as he witnessed the impossible: a creature resembling a white serpent—large and slick—crawled out of Xelix's chest. The flesh around his sternum tore open, as if helpless to restrain the beast's emergence.
As the serpent fully emerged, Xelix collapsed onto the chair behind him. His cheekbones jutted sharply, his skin wrinkled, breath rasping like a man on the brink of death. He looked like an old crone drained of blood by a monstrous leech.
Enver stepped forward, eyes locked onto the white serpent with the cold gaze of a hunter who had just found a rare prey. A thin smirk crossed his face, and his voice dropped—sharp and soft like a blade at the throat.
> "Well, well... I didn't expect you to show up uninvited. I suppose you want to negotiate with me too, Medusa?"
The serpent hissed lowly, its scales gleaming like pearls beneath the chandelier's light. Since it first slithered into Xelix's body, this serpent—none other than Medusa's astral form—had been drawn to Enver's chilling arrogance. He was a handsome man who never flinched before darkness.
Xelix's laughter faded into a harsh cough. Behind Enver, dust swirled in the air—temperature plummeting like a warning.
Without warning, the attack came.
The white serpent struck like lightning, mouth open wide, revealing fangs curved and venom-tipped. Enver didn't flinch. His trained hands moved fast, pulling the trigger of the black pistol at his waist. The first bullet ripped through the air, followed by a second and third shot. But the serpent vanished—like a phantom.
The first three shots missed.
Enver clenched his jaw, inhaled sharply. He fired again, this time without aiming. The bullets spiraled in the air, seemingly random—yet slowly constructing a resonant pattern.
The white serpent reappeared, lunging from behind Enver.
Two bullets struck its body. Its scales cracked.
Enver's lip curled.
> "417 Hertz."
His shots weren't mere bullets—they were vibrations. Ancient resonance magic, mastered by only a handful of Hellseher. He angled the gun toward the serpent's wound, firing again and again, stitching invisible threads of energy through the air. The wound pulsed. Its blood swirled into harmonic ripples. Then came a small explosion, shaking the entire room.
Medusa's shriek echoed, part of her body shattering into fragments of white scales. But instead of vanishing, those fragments fell to the floor and transformed—hundreds of small serpents, finger-sized, crawling fast, scurrying toward the exit.
Outside, the ring of jasmine flowers that Marva had laid out that morning waited for them. The white petals radiated sacred mist, absorbing each serpent into a vortex of astral energy. Their hissing dwindled—drowned by the wail of Medusa as she reformed, her scales whole once more.
Enver spat to the floor, breath steady despite his shirt torn to shreds by sharp scales.
In the corner, Xelix strained to move. His limbs stiff, joints frozen after so long under Medusa's control. His trembling fingers reached for the scattered tarot cards atop the rune-etched table.
> "Marva!" Enver shouted, still facing Medusa.
Marva flinched, nearly dropping the vial in her hand. She had been hiding behind the curtain, holding her breath since the battle began. Gasping, she ran toward Xelix.
The small vial of green potion trembled in her grip. She tried to pour it into Xelix's mouth, but his jaw was locked tight, tongue curled against the roof, unmoving.
Panicked, Marva tried prying his teeth open with her fingers—useless.
Enver, still holding back the sharp scales raining down like glass daggers, yelled again:
> "Idiot! I told you—the only way is...!"
Before he could finish, Medusa lunged again. Her scales shattered like broken glass, swirling in the air. As they touched the space around Enver, the shards transformed into thousands of tiny snakes, each with mouths full of black thorns.
Several of them burrowed into Enver's shoulder and neck, piercing his skin and coiling inside his veins like spiral nails. For the first time, Enver staggered. His breath broke. Medusa hissed sweetly, her form shifting to reveal her true self: a serene-eyed woman, her hair cascading into a thousand living snakes that slithered midair.
She stepped forward gracefully, approaching Enver as one of his knees hit the floor.
Meanwhile, Marva, trembling, drank the remaining potion herself. She held Xelix's face, kissed his lips, transferring the elixir through her breath. The potion slid into Xelix's throat. Marva choked, gagged, eyes tearing up.
Moments later, Xelix's hand twitched—control returning to his limbs. His eyes were hazy, but his fingers moved toward a single tarot card on the table.
> "Quick! Choose! Or we all die!" Marva panted in a whisper.
Xelix's finger landed on the card of Four Swords. It trembled, glowing blue, slicing through the foul mist surrounding Medusa. Four spiritual swords materialized midair, circling Enver, deflecting the tiny serpents trying to invade his bloodstream.
Enver lifted his gaze, lips curling faintly. He grabbed one of the spiritual swords, cocked his pistol with the other hand.
> "Thank you, Xelix. My turn now."
With a single slash, he cut down dozens of the serpents around him, then aimed at Medusa and fired in rapid bursts. Bullets clashed with glowing swords—black blood gushed from Medusa, burning into the tiled floor.
She screamed in rage, hand outstretched to reach Enver's cheek.
But all she saw were those cold gray eyes—the eyes of a Hellseher who would never bow, not even when devoured by curses.
> "You think a snake like you can swallow the hell I carry in my body?"
Enver's voice was the sealing spell.
The ceiling trembled.
Outside, the jasmine ring thickened, devouring Medusa's final astral wail. Night swallowed the last of her hiss—leaving only the ringing of spiritual blades and the ragged breaths of three mortals who had nearly lost their lives.
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