One of the shadowy figures stepped forward. "Lady Ultear, we urge you not to meddle in this affair. We have no intention of dragging the Midgard Guild into this."

Ultear stood her ground, her voice unwavering. "Did you not hear me before? They are under my protection. Make one wrong move, and I vow to annihilate you and your comrades, before declaring a full-on war on the Viper Fang Guild. I swear by my name."

The figure on the rooftop seemed despondent. "Do you truly dare to go to war with the Viper Fangs?"

"You think I'm joking?" Ultear's voice resonated with authority. "I will give you a count of five. If you do not retreat, be ready to face my wrath."

The tension in the air was palpable, an impending confrontation hanging in the balance.

The potential for an all-out assault from the group of assassins loomed, and it was clear that Ultear might not be able to defend us and fight simultaneously.

Understanding this predicament, Ultear skillfully issued an ultimatum, providing the group an opportunity to retreat without consequences. The only question was whether these shady figures would agree.

Given the current circumstances, facing so many mages seemed like an insurmountable challenge. I had just learned the disappointing outcome of my ascension ceremony, making me feel even more powerless than before. At this moment, our survival hinged on the protection of Ultear, a woman we had just met.

Even though my mother's mana core had been healed, she probably hadn't fully recovered enough to engage in a battle against these assailants.

Ultear stood firm, the large metallic cross beside her radiating a faint glow.

"Five," she intoned.

As Ultear initiated the countdown, the assassins appeared bewildered, seemingly hesitant to take any action.

"Four."

The three of us Almonds huddled closely behind Ultear, seeking the cover of her presence.

"Three."

The assassins on the rooftop exchanged uncertain glances, caught in a dilemma.

Abruptly, Ultear hefted the massive metallic cross onto her shoulder.

"Two."

"Captain!" one of the assassins suddenly shouted, directing our attention to a point behind us.

Ultear spun around in surprise, and we quickly followed suit, our gazes drawn to a figure perched atop the tavern's signboard. It was human in form but possessed feline features, with a head and limbs reminiscent of a cat's. Unlike the other assassins, he lacked a mask or hood to conceal his face.

Unbelievably, he had been positioned directly above us, unnoticed until now. His beast-like eyes locked onto us, his posture predatory, ready to strike.

Reacting swiftly, Ultear swung her large metal cross like a mace toward the feline-like monster. The impact shattered the tavern's signboard, but the cat creature displayed remarkable agility. With a graceful maneuver, it stepped atop the cross and used the momentum to propel itself high into the air.

The feline assailant soared through the sky with astonishing grace, landing nimbly on a nearby rooftop. The fact that this creature had been right above us moments ago, unnoticed, was a testament to its skill. It seemed to possess the characteristics of a cat, making it a perfect ability for an assassin like him.

That guy was called captain and it seems that he was on par with Ultear or even better.

If they attacked all at once we might be really done for.

Ultear was irritated, seeming to be annoyed for being caught off guard.

The cat-like monster displayed a wide, unsettling grin, revealing its sharp fangs that glinted ominously.

"Lady Ultear, it appears that the passage of time has dulled your senses and aged you," the creature taunted. "You've lost your edge. I still can't fathom why you would take such a risk—"

Ultear abruptly placed a metal cross on the ground with a resonating thump, commanding attention.

"One," she declared loudly.

In the following moment, she extended one of her hands outward. With her other hand, she firmly grasped one of her own fingernails and forcefully pulled it from her finger. Blood began to drip from the wound, but an unsettling grin spread across her face.

At that moment, it was clear—she had finally crossed the threshold of sanity.

The cross abruptly ignited, casting an ethereal glow that painted the surroundings in an otherworldly light.

"Meaaaww~" The cat monster's scream echoed suddenly, shattering the air with an agonized cry. We pivoted to witness a scene of grim torment—the cat writhed in excruciating pain, blood surging forth in a torrent. His arm severed and discarded, lay sprawled on the street. The wound's edge gushed scarlet fluid akin to an open faucet. The assemblage of assassins stood, dumbfounded and aghast.

"Captain!"

"What just happened?"

"Sir, Your arm!"

A chorus of bewildered queries erupted among the assassins.

The cat monster himself didn't even understand what had just occurred. He was in a state of shock before regaining his composure. He had a troubled expression, and all the hot air he displayed earlier had disappeared. He tried to close his wound with the other remaining hand.

In a swift motion, he rose to his feet.

"Lady Ultear, please pardon my impertinence. It appears my judgment was grievously flawed. We shall take our leave for now, and I trust that sacrificing my arm shall serve as fitting recompense for our lapse in judgment. I beseech you, spare the Viper Fang guild the consequences of our petty conflict."

"Finally, they are going back," my mother murmured, her voice laced with relief.

I exhaled deeply, a sense of closure washing over me. This ordeal was drawing to its conclusion.

"Why should I?" Ultear retorted, her voice resonating with defiance. With a swift, deliberate motion, she seized another finger and proceeded to contort it like a twig. The sound of splintering bones punctuated the air, a chilling creaking noise that sliced through the tense atmosphere.

"Aaargh!" A sudden cry pierced the air, erupting from an assassin perched on the nearby rooftop.

In the blink of an eye, the man's body underwent a grotesque transformation. His limbs twisted at impossible angles, his legs folding backward toward his torso, and his head executing a gruesome somersault, ending up facing the opposite direction. Gravity took hold, and he careened down the rooftop, landing on the street below with a sickening splat. His blood sprayed outward, creating a gruesome display on the street.

The contorted figure seemed to have reacted to Ultear's finger.

“Ultear!” screamed the cat captain, “You are taking it too far!”

Meanwhile, a wide grin adorned Ultear's face.

"You guys are still here?" she quipped, a tinge of amusement lacing her words.

Without hesitation, Ultear seized her little finger and forcefully pulled it apart from her hand. A surge of blood erupted from the wound, cascading down her hand and even spattering across her own face.

Another assassin, perched upon a rooftop, crumpled abruptly. This time, the man suffered a more grotesque fate, his form split into two distinct halves, cleaved from torso to bottom.

"What is happening?" my dad mumbled, his brows knit in perplexity.

"Madam Ultear's magic appears rather crude," my mother began, but her sentence was abruptly stifled as her hand covered her mouth. Her complexion paled, and her voice quavered, "I shouldn't have eaten so much. I fear I might—uwaah."

In an instant, my mother was puking at the side, her earlier meal of pork and cave duck meat laid bare. The aftermath of watching such a grotesque technique after a hearty lunch was bound to manifest sooner or later.

In hindsight, it explained why my mother had been on edge ever since encountering Ultear back at the tavern.

“Retreat! Now!" bellowed the cat captain, his voice laced with urgency, as he initiated a hasty withdrawal.

A lone assassin re-emerged onto the street, deftly retrieving their captain's severed arm before leaping back onto the rooftop. The dismembered limb was respectfully returned to its owner, an act of grim loyalty amidst the chaos.

The remaining assassins started retreating but they looked a bit agitated to comply with the retreat order. They looked like they wanted to avenge their fallen comrades.

The cat captain's expression was etched with despondent regret, his morale obviously shattered, "I shall remember this impudence. Mark my words, Ultear," he vowed, his words heavy with a bitter promise.

"It appears you still have time to make threats," Ultear’s words reverberated with an unsettling edge.

With abrupt determination, Ultear drove all five of her fingernails into her palm, then raked them across her own arm, producing five deep gashes. Blood poured from the wounds, once again creating a bloody trail.

"Muhaha!" Ultear cackled, the laugh echoing like a deranged chorus of maniacs.

In response, multiple assassins emitted unified cries of agony. Each bore claw-like gashes on their chests and backs, akin to the marks of a monstrous predator's assault. One of the assassins collapsed, his life extinguished by those grievous wounds. Meanwhile, the others remained alive but severely injured, their resilience compelling them to flee despite the pain. The cat captain's hesitation evaporated, and he scurried away, his departure similar to the rats scurrying away in fear.

"Hah! Is this your entirety? A collective of spineless cowards" murmured the erratic Ultear in a guttural tone, a blend of madness and satisfaction in her voice.

At this juncture, our immediate safety was secured. Yet, the three of us instinctively kept a few steps away from Ultear, an instinctual caution just in case she really did lose all her senses.

Ultear eventually pivoted toward us, her form drenched in her own blood. One of her arms displayed prominent bruising, a testament to self-inflicted harm. Despite the gruesome spectacle, a faint smile graced her lips.

"It seems you should be safe now," she stated, her voice suddenly softer. Her demeanor shifted, and she seemed to realize the effect her actions had on us. "Oh, it appears I might have startled you. My apologies, I didn't intend for you to witness such a horrifying side of me."

Ultear's transition back to her composed persona was evident. Nevertheless, the sight of her standing amidst her own blood remained unsettling.

"Madam, your fighting style remains the same. Cruel and gruesome," my mother commented, releasing a sigh.

“Little Beth, you're as caring as ever, fretting over these minor injuries. Truth be told, I had a few more tricks up my sleeve, just in case. No need to concern yourself with those pesky adversaries,” Ultear replied, exuding confidence.

My mother gazed at her, a tinge of disappointment in her eyes, and said, “I'm concerned that you might succumb to your own injuries before an enemy even gets the chance to harm you.”

“Hah! That would never come to pass. You worry excessively,” Ultear retorted, her tone laced with a sense of pride.

Suddenly my dad approached Ultear,

“Here,” said he handed a handkerchief, “Maybe trying to use this to stop bleeding.”

"Oh my, thank you," Ultear expressed her gratitude as she accepted the handkerchief, utilizing her less injured arm. It was evident that her other arm, too, was stained with blood. Yet, the instant her fingers touched the fabric, it swiftly absorbed the blood, rendering the handkerchief instantly ruined.

"I should inquire with the tavern owner for a couple of towels and a first aid kit. Those wounds seem rather profound, and there's a possibility they might leave behind a scar or two," my father recommended, his concern evident in his voice.

Curiously, my father appeared to treat Ultear as if she were an everyday girl, someone who might have sustained a minor injury from a simple stumble. His demeanor exuded a sense of nonchalance as if he had grown accustomed to such circumstances.

"Oh my, what a gentleman, extending such consideration for me. Those who've witnessed me in a battle for the first time usually maintain their distance and scarcely engage with me," Ultear remarked, her expression tinged with a touch of solemnity.

My father responded with a gentle smile. "Regardless of the manner in which you fight, your underlying goal remains crystal clear—to protect me and my family. What kind of man would I be if I were to be scared by my own savior? Allow me to retrieve the first aid kit from the tavern owner."

In a swift motion, Ultear waved her hand dismissively. "No need. Your gesture stands as a testament of great kindness."

Turning her attention to my mother, she added, "I'm beginning to fathom why you selected a man of this caliber."

"You're absolutely right! His gentlemanly nature shines brightly," my mother chimed in proudly, punctuating her sentiment with a cheerful thump to her chest.

Amidst this exchange, my father's cheeks took on a faint hue of embarrassment. "Oh please, you ladies are truly making me blush with your praises."

Meanwhile, I stood at the periphery, utterly bemused, as if caught in the midst of a comedic skit. Across the street lay lifeless bodies, a stark contrast to the presence of a seemingly unhinged woman whose power manifested through self-inflicted wounds. Yet, here were my parents, engaging in conversation as if immersed in a lighthearted romance fiction, oblivious to the morbid backdrop that surrounded us.