Niko walked down the endless hallways, his mind preoccupied with the thought of food. His stomach growled loudly, reminding him how poorly he had planned. He cursed under his breath.
"I should've asked where to get food, damn it," he muttered, rubbing his stomach. He had been so focused on his powers, and then Vex, and now this whole mess with the House, that he'd completely forgotten the basics of survival.
With a sigh, Niko turned back toward the library. He could at least ask Vex one last thing. Maybe he'd untie him, ask for directions, and get something to eat. If Vex still wanted to pull that "trying-to-kill-me" stunt, Niko could just leave him there.
As he pushed the door open, expecting the usual mess of scattered papers and floating swords, Niko's eyes immediately landed on the spot where Vex had been tied.
The ropes were still there. But... Vex wasn't.
Niko's chest tightened. The weight of the silence in the library settled on him as he took slow, cautious steps forward. He glanced around, but there was no sign of the man—no movement, no sound. The place was unnervingly still.
Then, as he moved toward the center of the room, his eyes froze on something that made his heart race.
Vex.
Vex lay sprawled on the floor in a grotesque heap. His chest had been torn open, a deep, gaping hole where his heart should've been. Blood stained the floor around him, pooling in dark, spreading splotches.
Niko's stomach lurched violently. He felt his insides twist, the air leaving his lungs as he stumbled back, his legs shaking. A cold sweat broke out over his skin, and his mouth went dry. The shock hit him like a freight train, and for a moment, he thought he might pass out.
He had just been talking to him. Barely ten minutes ago, Vex was alive—smiling, teaching him how to control his power, taunting him, even. And now... now he was dead.
Niko squeezed his eyes shut, fighting back the nausea that rose up his throat. He took a deep, shaky breath and turned to leave, not sure what to do with himself, but as he moved, a soft sound made him freeze.
A soft, high-pitched melody.
The flute.
A woman stood in the farthest corner of the library, holding a flute to her lips, staring at Niko with an unreadable expression. Her long dark hair fell loosely around her shoulders, and her cloak billowed slightly as if caught by an invisible breeze. But the most bizarre thing was the bubbles.
Bubbles were floating from the flute.
At first, Niko thought it was some kind of weird power. Maybe she was summoning them to trap him or confuse him. But as the bubbles drifted lazily toward the bookshelf, Niko's confusion turned to shock.
The bubble hit the bookshelf.
And then—
Boom!
The entire bookshelf exploded in a violent burst, sending wooden debris and shattered books flying in all directions. Niko jumped back, eyes wide, his heart hammering in his chest as the explosion reverberated through the library. Dust filled the air, and the floor beneath him seemed to shake.
For a split second, all he could do was stand there, stunned. Then, the realization hit him.
It wasn't the bubbles. They were a distraction. The flute wasn't just about the melody—it was a weapon. And the woman? She wasn't here to play.
Niko's mind raced. He had no idea who this woman was, but if she was capable of blowing up a bookshelf with just a few bubbles, he was in serious trouble.
He quickly glanced around for a way out, his thoughts still reeling. This was it—he was stuck.
Vex was dead. And now, he had to deal with a woman who was either trying to kill him or something even worse.
The woman lowered the flute slightly, eyes locked on Niko, her gaze sharp and calculating. She didn't seem particularly bothered by the chaos she had just caused. In fact, she almost looked bored.
"You're still here?" she asked, her voice smooth, almost melodic like the music from her flute.
Niko didn't know how to respond. Instead, he instinctively took a step back, trying to distance himself from the woman and the destruction she had just caused. But as he did, the weight of what had just happened—the brutal, sudden death of Vex, the chaos now unfolding around him—finally hit him like a wave.
His stomach churned again, but this time, it wasn't just from the sight of Vex's body. It was the overwhelming feeling that everything in this House was a trap, and Niko was a rat stuck inside it.
"Who are you?" Niko demanded, his voice shaky but defiant.
The woman didn't answer immediately. Instead, she let the flute rest in her hands, her fingers tracing the surface as she examined him with the same emotionless gaze.
"Someone you should fear," she said simply.
Niko's blood ran cold as he realized, in that moment, just how little control he had over anything in this House.
The words hung in the air like venom.
"Someone you should fear."
Niko didn't flinch. He didn't blink. He just stared—his hands slowly curling into fists at his sides, eyes locked on hers like a predator sizing up another.
"Is that supposed to scare me?" he muttered, his voice low, steady, but carrying the weight of something deeper—uncertainty, tension, and the barest trace of resolve.
The woman didn't reply. She simply raised the flute again.
Another soft, eerie melody filled the library. This time, the bubbles came faster, flowing from the flute like smoke from a fire. They drifted lazily through the air—silent, harmless, almost playful.
Niko didn't wait.
He surged to the side, diving behind a fallen bookshelf just as one of the bubbles floated past him and—
Boom.
The explosion rocked the room, sending splinters flying and flames licking the walls. Niko rolled behind cover, coughing through the dust, his ears ringing.
She wasn't playing games.
Another bubble whistled past, and another BOOM rattled the shelves. She wasn't aiming directly—she was closing in, corralling him like prey.
Niko's breathing was sharp now, hands shaking—not from fear, but from the pressure, the heat, the chaos.
He peeked over the wreckage.
She stood gracefully among the destruction, untouched, calm. Like she'd done this a hundred times before. Like he really was just the next name on her list.
"Your gift's rare," she called out, casually. "Unrefined, but rare. It'll make a pretty corpse."
Niko didn't answer. He was too busy thinking. Watching.
He hadn't fought someone like this before. Someone trained. Controlled. Every move she made was calculated. Every note of her flute was death.
But she wasn't invincible.
Her eyes shifted when she played. Her body stayed mostly still. She needed line of sight. Time. Just a few seconds between each shot.
He could work with that.
He pressed his hands to the floor. Energy buzzed under his skin—angry, unstable, but eager. He didn't understand it. He didn't need to. He just had to survive.
And if he was lucky... win.
Niko stood.
The next bubble came.
He ran straight toward it.
Niko's breath came in heavy bursts as he bolted forward. His legs burned with the effort, muscles screaming, but there was no hesitation in his movements. His mind was a singular force, focusing only on the woman, the flute, and the deadly bubbles she unleashed with each note.
The next bubble shot toward him like a missile. Niko didn't flinch, didn't look away. He was already anticipating the trajectory, the faint flicker of the air as the bubble cut through the space between them. His feet hit the ground harder, pushing him forward faster, momentum carrying him like a weapon itself.
The bubble exploded before he even reached it—another violent shockwave sent debris flying, but Niko was already on the move, crouching low, eyes fixed on her next move. She hadn't shifted, hadn't moved a step. Her fingers hovered over the flute, poised, waiting for the next note.
She was confident. That would be her mistake.
Niko sprinted again, weaving left and right between the falling rubble, his body low to the ground. His arms pumped furiously, feet barely touching the floor as he closed the distance between them. He could feel the crackling energy beneath his skin, surging, itching, demanding release. But he held it back. He couldn't afford to be reckless.
The woman's gaze flicked to him, the slightest movement before her fingers danced over the flute. A soft hum filled the air, and then a series of bubbles shot toward him—smaller but faster, more precise.
He didn't dodge.
Instead, he let the first one come. The instant it reached him, he exploded into motion, slamming his palm against it with raw energy.
The bubble popped, but the force sent a shockwave of heat through his body, throwing him off balance. Before he could regain his footing, another bubble was on him. This one larger, glowing with a faint blue hue, a warning.
Niko reached out, his fist driving forward like a battering ram, a pulse of energy surging from his core, ripping through the air. His fist collided with the bubble, and this time, the explosion wasn't just a shockwave. It felt like a warhead going off in his chest. He staggered back, vision blurring, but forced himself to stay upright. His skin burned from the blast, his heart pounding in his ears.
The woman took a step forward, still unbothered. Her flute was already back to her lips. He could see the cold precision in her eyes, calculating every move.
Niko didn't wait.
He moved in fast, his legs pumping as he closed the gap. She brought the flute up again, but he was too close now. Her eyes flicked to him, a momentary spark of realization that she wouldn't have time to set up her next bubble.
He reached her in a heartbeat, his hand snapping out. Energy crackled as his fingers brushed against her wrist, a raw surge of force.
She recoiled, stepping back, but Niko was already on top of her. He swung his arm, energy surging outward in a violent pulse. The blast hit her square in the chest, sending her hurtling backward into the nearest bookshelf.
The flute flew from her hands, landing with a soft clatter on the floor.
For a moment, the library was silent, the only sound the crackling of the fire burning in the corner.
But then she moved.
A quick motion, like a snake striking. Her hands shot up, a blur of speed, and with a sharp twist, her body was back on its feet. The woman grabbed her flute, her expression now a mix of fury and amusement, like she was finally enjoying herself.
Niko didn't wait for her to strike first. He launched himself at her, his fist engulfed in a wave of pure energy. The room seemed to bend around him as the power surged, shaking the very walls.
The woman raised her flute again, playing a quick, frantic tune. The bubbles burst from the instrument in quick succession, each one more powerful than the last. But Niko was no longer dodging. He was moving in a way that felt like instinct, his body reacting faster than his thoughts. He was no longer just running—he was attacking, countering.
He slammed through the bubbles, each explosion shaking his very bones, but he didn't stop. His eyes locked on her, the pulse of energy in his body the only thing he trusted right now.
The woman had no time to react. She raised her flute, but this time, Niko was already upon her, his fist driving forward in a raw burst of energy that sent her flying backward once again. She hit the wall hard, crumpling to the ground with a grunt of pain.
For a second, Niko stopped. He could barely catch his breath, his body aching from the blasts, the burns, the exertion. His hand shook, but the energy inside him was still there, pulsing, alive.
She wasn't done.
With a feral growl, the woman shot to her feet, her eyes glowing with a new intensity. She raised her flute once again, this time pulling something darker from within herself. The air around her shimmered with an unnatural stillness.
The next note she played was different. It wasn't a soft hum. It wasn't a distraction.
It was a weapon.
A violent, shrieking melody sliced through the air, sending a shockwave of destructive force toward Niko. The shelves around him shook, the floor cracked beneath him as the blast tore through the space.
Niko reacted without thinking, his arms crossed in front of him, a shield of energy forming just in time. The shockwave collided with him, the pressure forcing him to his knees, but the energy held. Barely.
The air smelled of burnt wood and ozone. His chest heaved with the effort. He wasn't sure how long he could keep this up.
But there was one thing he knew now.
This fight wasn't about power.
It was about survival.