The System Sent Me to Breed an All-Female Amazon Tribe

Chapter 457: Bonus Chapter 47: Death vs Death: First Strike

With that, Sara nodded and left the cavern, her form disappearing through the heavy door as the night air rushed in to greet her.

And seconds later, some people also left the cavern as well, taking weapons and talismans with them for a potential heist that night.

Quite unfortunate for them, Severia thought to herself, knowing that anyone who attempted to rob an Amazon and her guards would not live to spend a single coin anymore.

***

With the information gathered from Sara’s detailed briefing, Severia had traced her target to a secluded mountain in the outermost outskirts of Chimustar, far from the prying eyes of civilization.

The location was deliberately isolated, accessible only through winding, treacherous paths that would deter all but the most determined visitors.

Nestled among the craggy peaks and ancient pines sat a newly built cottage, its construction so recent that the wood still retained the fresh scent of being cut and shaped.

The structure was modest but well-crafted, clearly intended for long-term habitation rather than a temporary shelter.

He had apparently moved into this remote dwelling just recently, telling his wife it was for an unknown job that required his particular skills and attention.

However, to Severia’s watchful eye, it appeared to be nothing more than an elaborate excuse, a convenient fiction designed to mask the true purpose of his retreat.

The cottage was clearly a love nest, a private sanctuary where he could cheat properly and effectively without fear of discovery or interruption from his Amazon wife.

She watched him go about his days with a beautiful young woman in tow, observing their routines from carefully chosen vantage points that kept her hidden among the mountain’s natural cover.

The woman had short blonde hair that was cleanly cut at the neck length, and it shone like spun gold.

She had beautiful blue eyes that sparkled with youth and innocence, and her dark skin reminded Severia of Sara’s own complexion, a similarity that seemed a little too coincidental.

She must be the woman Sara was referring to, Severia thought, the source of the infidelity that had driven the Amazon to seek such extreme measures.

She watched them for five days, studying their patterns, their habits, their moments of vulnerability.

She learned when they slept, when they ate, when they retreated to the privacy of their chambers for love making.

She observed the way they moved together, the casual intimacy that spoke of a relationship far beyond mere acquaintance.

And on the night of the sixth day, when she was absolutely sure the woman would be unavailable—having observed her leaving the cottage for a scheduled visit to the nearest village—Severia decided to strike.

Killing the woman was Sara’s duty.

While the moon threw its silvery curtains down the mountain, casting long shadows across the rocky terrain and illuminating the cottage in pale, ethereal light, Severia leapt off a nearby tree and began to move towards her target.

Her movements were silent, her steps carefully placed to avoid any telltale crunch of gravel or rustle of leaves.

Even without her magical tools and abilities, she was a first-rate assassin and could hide her presence quite effectively from even the most alert targets.

Her training had taught her to become one with the shadows, to move like a ghost through the darkness.

In the days she had watched the androgynous husband of Sara, she could tell he was a monster of considerable power.

His strength, even if he didn’t do much to display it openly, was very clear in her experienced eyes.

The way he moved, the casual confidence in his posture, the subtle energy that radiated from his form: all of it spoke of a being far beyond ordinary human capabilities.

But if he had a soul and a vessel, he was killable.

That was the fundamental principle that guided Severia’s work, the belief that underpinned her entire career.

No matter how powerful, no matter how ancient, every living thing had a weakness that could be exploited.

Severia had a weapon that could strike both soul and body simultaneously, rendering regeneration completely useless. It was a small, intricate knife, its blade etched with characters that glowed softly.

She had tested this weapon many times throughout her career, and countless hubristic individuals have died completely sure they would just come back, their overconfidence blinding them to the true nature of the threat they faced.

None of them had ever came back.

She crawled through a small opening on the cottage’s roof, her body contorting to fit through the narrow gap with expert movements.

She infiltrated successfully, landing silently on the wooden beams above the main room, her eyes already scanning for her target.

Immediately entering, she spotted the slender, brown-haired young looking man walking towards a corner of the room, his back turned to her in a display of casual vulnerability that seemed almost deliberate.

And she quickly went back outside.

"He... has so much opening, it’s terrifying," Severia whispered in fear, as cold sweat dripped from her forehead and her heart pounded in her chest. "He must trust his regenerative factor so much that he doesn’t even bother with basic precautions. I should change my tactic immediately. An attack from behind would be too risky. I need to get closer, to ensure the strike is absolutely perfect."

KNOCK, KNOCK.

She immediately knocked on the cottage door, her fist rapping against the wood with a sound that seemed unnaturally loud in the mountain silence.

She had transformed her posture, her demeanor, her entire presence into that of a lost, frightened traveler.

"Yes, who’s there?" His gender-neutral voice resounded from inside the cottage, sounding with mild irritation. "And can’t you see how late it is? This is hardly an appropriate hour for visitors."

"P... Please, I got lost in the mountain and I need some directions!" Severia answered, her voice shaking in fake anxiety, the performance flawless in its desperation. "Can you... point me in the right direction? Or, if it is okay with you, allow me to stay the night, please... I’m scared and alone out here. I don’t know what I would do if something happened to me."

"..." After a moment of silence, during which Severia could practically feel him weighing his options, the man opened the door finally.

His face was unreadable, his blue eyes studying her with an intensity that would have made normal people falter. "Fine, just one night will be enough. Come in and—"

CHK!

It went in.

The intricate, rune-etched knife slid through his chest and directly into his heart with surgical precision, the blade finding its mark without any resistance.

The blue-eyed target looked a bit shocked, his expression frozen in a moment of surprise that seemed almost comical.

Then he brought his gaze down to the small, intricate knife stuck to his heart, its hilt protruding from his chest like a grotesque ornament.

Finally, his eyes lifted back at the pretty face of Severia, searching for answers.

"Sara... sends her regards," she calmly said in her hushed, husky tone, her voice heavy with the detached professionalism of someone who had done this countless times before.

Then the man coughed up some blood, the crimson liquid spilling from his lips and trickling down his chin in a slow, steady stream.

He tried to move, to summon his power, to fight back against the inevitable.

But the soul-severing properties of the weapon had already done their work, and his body soon lost its balance.

He staggered, his legs giving out beneath him, and fell face up on the ground, his breathing getting labored until he stopped moving entirely.

Severia moved to his body after 2 minutes had passed, allowing ample time for any tricks or surprises.

She checked his pulse and other signs to see if he was truly dead, her fingers pressing against his neck, his wrist, his chest.

And she found nothing. No heartbeat. No breath. No flicker of the soul that had once animated this form.

The man who had been so powerful, so confident, was now nothing more than a cooling corpse on the wooden floor of his love nest.