Rise of The Abandoned Husband

I watched in horror as the three assassins charged toward Clara—or whatever she had become. The mask had transformed her completely, dark energy swirling around her floating form like a terrible storm.

"Clara!" I shouted, still struggling against the Ice Spirit Needle's effects. "Clara, can you hear me?"

She gave no indication that she recognized my voice. The mask had fused to her face, turning her into something both magnificent and terrifying.

The first assassin reached her, blade slashing through the air with lethal precision. His strike should have cleaved her in half. Instead, his weapon passed through her as if she were made of smoke.

"What?" he gasped, stumbling forward from the momentum of his unsuccessful attack.

Clara—no, the masked woman—didn't even look at him. She merely raised one finger, pointing lazily in his direction.

The assassin froze mid-step, his body going rigid. A heartbeat later, he began to scream. His skin turned ashen gray, cracking like dried earth as dark energy poured into him from all directions. Within seconds, he collapsed into dust that scattered across the floor.

The remaining assassins halted their charge, eyes wide with terror.

"Impossible," the leader whispered, backing away. "No one possesses such power!"

I managed to push myself to my knees, feeling one of my blocked meridians finally give way. The rush of qi was painful but welcome as it began clearing the Ice Spirit Needle's effect from my system.

"Retreat!" the leader commanded his remaining subordinate. "We need reinforcements!"

The masked woman tilted her head, the empty eye sockets of the mask somehow conveying amusement. "There is nowhere to run."

She raised both arms, and the air around us grew heavy. The two assassins clawed at their throats, gasping for breath as invisible pressure crushed down on them.

"Please," the second assassin begged, falling to his knees. "Mercy!"

"Did you show mercy to my father?" Her voice echoed with ancient malice.

With a simple gesture of her hand, the second assassin imploded, his body crushed by unseen forces until nothing remained but a dark stain on the floor.

The leader, despite his terror, made a desperate gambit. He hurled three frost daggers directly at the masked woman's heart.

The weapons stopped inches from her body, suspended in midair. Slowly, they turned, pointing back at their owner.

"No," he gasped, backing away. "This can't be happening!"

The daggers shot forward with unnatural speed, embedding themselves in his chest. Ice spread rapidly from the wounds, encasing his body in a crystalline tomb. His expression of horror remained perfectly preserved as the frost consumed him completely.

A gentle tap from the masked woman's finger shattered the frozen assassin into thousands of glittering shards.

Three elite Marquis-level assassins, obliterated in less than a minute. I had never witnessed such effortless destruction.

Now she turned toward me.

"Clara," I said, struggling to my feet as another meridian broke free. "It's me, Liam. Your friend."

The masked woman drifted closer. The dark energy surrounding her intensified, making the air crackle with power. I could feel death approaching.

"I am not Clara," she said, her voice layered with countless others. "I am vengeance incarnate. I am the darkness between stars. I am the end of all things."

She extended her hand toward me, dark energy gathering at her fingertips. I couldn't move, couldn't escape. My body was still too weakened from the Ice Spirit Needle.

"Clara, please," I begged. "Remember who you are. Remember your father."

Her hand stopped, hovering inches from my face. The energy pulsed, eager to consume me as it had the others.

"William wouldn't want this," I continued desperately. "He wouldn't want you to lose yourself to this... this thing."

For a moment, the dark energy wavered. Then it intensified again, pressing closer.

"You know nothing of what he would want," she hissed. "He is gone. Because of you."

The accusation hit me like a physical blow. She was right—if William hadn't been trying to help me, he might still be alive.

"I know," I admitted, closing my eyes. "And I'm sorry. So sorry. But this isn't the answer, Clara."

"Clara is no more."

The energy touched my skin, and unimaginable cold burned through me. I screamed as frost spread across my chest, creeping toward my heart.

With my last conscious thought, I shouted, "CLARA VANCE!"

The freezing stopped abruptly. The masked woman jerked back as if struck, her hands flying to the sides of her head.

"No," she whispered, her voice suddenly younger, frightened. "No, stop. Dad! DAD!"

The dark energy surrounding her flickered and dispersed. She dropped to the floor, no longer floating. Her small body convulsed once, twice—and then the mask fell away from her face, clattering to the wooden planks.

Clara collapsed next to it, gasping for breath. Her eyes, now her own again, immediately sought her father's motionless body.

"Dad?" she whispered, crawling toward him. "Dad, please."

I dragged myself to my feet, the last effects of the Ice Spirit Needle finally clearing from my system. My chest still burned where the dark energy had touched me, but I was alive.

Clara reached William's side, placing trembling hands on his blood-soaked shirt. "Dad, wake up. Please wake up."

I knelt beside her, checking for any sign of life. There was none. The wound in his chest was catastrophic—no one could have survived it.

"I'm so sorry, Clara," I said softly.

She shook her head violently. "No. No, he can't be gone. He can't!"

She grabbed the mask from where it had fallen. "This thing has power. It can help him!"

"Clara—"

"It has to!" She pressed the mask to her father's face, but nothing happened. It remained inert, lifeless. "Work!" she screamed, pressing it harder. "Please work!"

I gently pulled her away. "Clara, he's gone. The mask can't bring him back."

She collapsed against me, her small body wracked with sobs. "It's not fair. He didn't do anything wrong. He was just trying to protect me."

I held her as she cried, watching the first light of dawn filter through the shattered windows. The night's horrors seemed surreal in the gentle morning glow.

"What am I going to do?" she whispered after her tears had subsided. "I have no one left."

"You have me," I promised. "I won't leave you alone."

She picked up the mask again, staring into its empty eye sockets. "What happened to me when I wore this? I remember putting it on, and then... darkness. Anger. So much anger."

"You became something else," I explained carefully. "Something powerful. And dangerous."

"I killed those men, didn't I?"

I nodded slowly. "They deserved it. They murdered your father."

Clara's fingers traced the mask's contours. "It felt like someone else was inside me. Using my body."

"The masked woman," I murmured. "I've encountered her before."

Clara looked up sharply. "You have?"

"At the Immortal Bane Sect. She saved me from attackers then, too."

We sat in silence for several minutes, both lost in our thoughts. Finally, Clara spoke again, her voice small but steady.

"What do we do with him? With Dad?"

The practical question brought me back to reality. "We should prepare his body. Give him a proper burial."

"Can we... can we take him somewhere nice? He always loved the mountains."

"Of course," I agreed. "First, though, we need to preserve him."

Clara nodded, wiping her tears. "How do we do that?"

"I have something that might help. Wait here."

I stepped outside to collect myself, then activated my Spatial Magic Artifact. From its depths, I retrieved an ornately carved wooden coffin—one of several items I kept for emergencies.

When I returned, Clara was sitting beside her father, holding his cold hand.

"This coffin is made from Eternal Cedar," I explained. "It will preserve him perfectly until we can reach a suitable resting place."

Clara nodded gratefully. "Thank you, Liam."

Together, we prepared William's body as best we could. I cleaned the worst of the blood while Clara found clean clothes for him. The task was grim but necessary.

"He looks peaceful now," Clara whispered as we finished. "Like he's just sleeping."

I opened the coffin lid, revealing the plush interior. To my surprise, something was already inside—dark robes similar to what the masked woman had worn during our previous encounter.

"What are those?" Clara asked, peering inside.

"I'm not sure," I admitted, though I had my suspicions. "They weren't there before."

As we moved to place William's body inside, I noticed Clara still clutching the mask in her hand. Suddenly, it began to shake violently, as if alive and fighting against her grip.