Hacking the Game Didn't Go as Intended

CHAPTER 195: The Notorious Wind Spirit

A trap.

Her pulse slammed against her ribs as the first alarm rang out, shattering the night's fragile peace. Mana lanterns flared to life, bobbing through the darkness like fireflies, illuminating a dozen figures lying in wait.

"He's here!"

"Surround him!"

Bearhounds snarled, their chains rattling as their handlers released them. The beasts lunged, fangs bared. The girl whirled away, her cloak snapping as she slipped between two guards, her wind magic carrying her just beyond their grasp.

Swords flashed.

She ducked.

A blade whistled past her face, close enough to shear several strands of green hair. The next guard lunged—a wall of muscle and steel barreling toward her. She slipped between his legs and leaped onto another man, planting a foot on his chest and vaulting onto his shoulder. His stunned yell barely left his lips before she sprang off him, twisting midair and landing lightly atop a nearby rooftop.

Javelins shot through the air.

She flipped backward, letting them bury themselves into the roof where she had stood moments before.

"Don't let the bastard escape!"

Tripwires crisscrossed the rooftop's edges, glinting in the moonlight. Too late. Her foot snagged one. A net whooshed up from below, aiming to ensnare her. She blasted it away with a burst of wind, but the second trap triggered—a small leather pouch flopping at her feet.

Sleeping powder?

She threw her cloak over her nose, but the air was already turning thick, the world blurring at its edges.

Another strike.

What? Paralysis bombs, too?

The scent burned her throat, her limbs threatening to lock up. With a desperate twist of her fingers, she conjured a powerful gust that blew the powder back toward the guards. They coughed, staggering as the anesthetic enveloped them instead.

The girl turned to flee—only to find herself completely surrounded. Men. Hounds. Blades glinting in the moonlight.

She exhaled breathlessly, then slammed her foot against the ground. The wind howled in response. A shockwave of force erupted outward, tearing through the courtyard like a hurricane. The guards and their beasts were hurled back, bodies tumbling through the air like ragdolls.

Without a hint of hesitation, she started running again.

She had to get out.

Then—

A figure emerged in her path, his presence so sudden, so unnatural, that her stomach turned to ice.

The ragged cloak. The menacing mask.

And those eyes.

Golden pupils gleamed from the depths of the mask, unblinking, steady, like they had been waiting for her all along.

Not a guard.

Not a mercenary.

An assassin.

Her breath hitched. Her mind screamed at her to run, but instinct told her it was futile. Even before she moved, she knew—he was faster.

She attacked first. Wind surged around her, launching her forward like a spear. Her dagger flashed as she slashed toward his throat—

Missed.

No. Not missed. He knew. He had already moved. Before she could recover, his counterstrike came. She barely deflected it. His speed, his precision—every movement was calculated as though he were reading the very currents of the air itself.

Panic gripped her chest. Her heartbeat hammered a frantic rhythm.

She couldn't win this fight.

Escape.

Escape was the only option.

Twisting sharply on her heel, she unleashed another burst of wind to propel herself forward—but he was already there.

Faster.

He was faster.

He was gaining, hot on her heels.

At this rate—

CLASP!

Cold fingers closed around her belt.

Her stomach dropped.

No!

Panic and desperation surged through her veins. She clenched her fists and summoned every ounce of mana left in her body. The air twisted violently around her, roaring like a storm.

And then—she launched herself into the sky.

The wind wrapped around her body, lifting her into a high arch. She sailed over the estate's gates, her heart thrashing against her chest. The second her feet touched solid ground, she ran, wind magic flooding her limbs, turning her into nothing more than a silver blur.

She didn't look back.

Daisuke stood still, the night's chaos swirling around him. His golden pupils flicked down to his hand.

A pouch.

He had swiped it in the last instant before the woman had broken free. Just as he was about to activate his Dash skill and give chase, he noted something metallic peeked out from its opening, which utterly caught him off guard.

I see, he thought, his eyes narrowing. If that's truly the case, then I guess my focus should be on something entirely different right now.