Lyon, with heavy breath and a mind in shock, tried to formulate an answer. He knew that in his current situation, he could offer nothing but hollow promises.

"I..." he began, his voice hoarse with pain and uncertainty filling the air. He wanted to say he would commit to paying, but the reality of his poverty weighed on him like a curse. He was merely a servant, having no goods or wealth to his name, other than loyalty to his masters and the promise of an uncertain future. However, he knew he couldn't just surrender to despair. "In... in the future, I... I can pay," he said, his voice a weak whisper, almost inaudible.

The man in black, with his grim expression and calculating eyes, cast a skeptical look at the woman with blue hair. He doubted she would be willing to accept Lyon's vague promise. "It's clear he hasn't got a penny," he pointed out, his voice laden with sarcasm and disdain. "You're not going to interfere with my work, are you?" He asked, his suspicious gaze fixed on the woman who seemed to float in the air, seated on an invisible throne. He didn't trust her, not one bit. His instinct told him she was a dangerous piece in this chaotic board.

The woman, on the other hand, seemed to consider the situation with a disarming calm. She observed Lyon, the man in black, and the bloody scene around them, her gaze inscrutable and cold, as if she was watching a chess match. "No," she finally answered, her voice soft contrasting with the tension in the air. "But wouldn't it be interesting to give him a chance to fight?" She proposed, her question laden with an unknown subtext. Was she really considering giving Lyon a chance to survive, or was it just a cruel game for her own amusement? Only time would tell.

The man in dark robes seemed about to refute the woman's words, but was aware that he had no idea what this mysterious figure was capable of. With a reluctant expression, he agreed. "Yes, I see no point in battling someone who can barely stand," he said, his voice laden with sarcasm and a hint of relief. He looked at Lyon, hoping the young servant wouldn't find the strength to stand up, so he could finish him off without much resistance.

In turn, the woman with blue hair addressed Lyon with a proposal that seemed more like a Faustian bargain than help. "See, boy, he's given you a chance. The help I'm offering you will be free, for now. But if you manage to get back on your feet and find ways to pay me, just let me know," she said, winking with her left eye, a gesture that seemed to carry some kind of hidden promise. Then she turned her attention to the man in black, her blue eyes narrowing slightly.

"Alonso, a black mage. Accused of kidnapping women and children... all the kidnapped children are girls," she murmured, as if reading a list of crimes. "The men, whether they were husbands, brothers or any other relation, if they were nearby, were killed." Her voice was soft, but carried a note of contempt and condemnation.

"You must be brimming with hope, aren't you?" The woman murmured, her dark blue eyes not meeting Alonso's face, but her voice was certain. She didn't need to see him to know who he was; his identity was clear to her. How she knew this? Well, that was a mystery known only to her. After all, she was an enigma, a puzzle that few had the chance and the ability to solve.

"What a pity that your fate has already been drawn," she continued, her voice smooth as silk, but loaded with the bitterness of truth. She had no intention of letting a criminal like him go unpunished. She needed to know where the women and children had been taken, she needed to answer to Lord Vermilion, who was relentlessly demanding answers. She did not expect to be so lucky, however. Fate was a cruel and unpredictable master, always playing its pieces with an invisible hand.

Meanwhile, Lyon, with a titanic effort, managed to rise. His face was as pale as the moon, and he knew he had lost a lot of blood. He felt life draining from his body, a sensation that filled him with a terror he didn't want to go through again. Perhaps he would die before even being killed by the man in black, a fate that Lyon was determined to avoid at all costs. Death was a certainty, but he was not ready to embrace it yet. Not while there was hope.

Alonso's mind worked frantically as he conjured a black scythe in his hand, the sinister weapon emerging from nowhere as a dark extension of his own will. He knew his mana reserve was dangerously low. "I don't have much mana. So I have to kill him quickly," he thought, narrowing his eyes toward the vulnerable servant.

With a wild cry, Alonso launched himself towards Lyon, his scythe raised to deliver the mercy blow. The distance between them was rapidly decreasing, a terrible omen of the imminent end.

Lyon, on the other hand, remained disturbingly calm. He stood in the same place, seeming totally oblivious to the approaching danger. He watched Alonso approaching, his legs seemingly unable to move due to the blood loss. However, within his eyes, a glint of determination could be seen.

The blue-haired woman watched the scene with an attentive look, interested in the unfolding events. She noticed Alonso's obvious strategy, noting his choice of a melee attack instead of a ranged attack. "He is out of mana, a mage never attacks melee if he has mana, or he is hiding it, but I find it hard, the mana he must have is to be able to kill this boy up close," she pondered, her deep blue eyes glowing with a mix of curiosity and caution.

She wondered how Lyon would defend himself, realizing that he could barely move, let alone fight. The woman was curious to see what the servant would do to avoid the scythe. The picture that was forming was grim, but she hoped that Lyon could surprise her in some way. After all, the situation seemed to be a matter of life or death, and Lyon did not seem ready to accept death so easily.

"Man..." Lyon murmured, feeling the weight of reality fall upon him. An icy chill ran down his spine, a poignant sensation that made him realize that if he did not act, his life would be reaped. He was on the edge of the precipice, at a crossroads where life and death met.

"It's you or me, and I choose to live." Lyon murmured, his voice laden with unwavering determination. He forced hesitation to dissolve, replacing it with a steel resolution. He was ready to fight, to survive, no matter what.

Suddenly, a bright, burning light emerged from his body, illuminating everything around him. Alonso, seeing the light, immediately understood its meaning. It was the flame he feared, the same flame that had consumed his former accomplice, Lucio. Terror seized him, for he knew he was about to face the same fate.

The blue-haired woman, watching the scene unfold, realized Alonso's impending defeat. She could not allow him to die, not before obtaining the information she so desperately needed. She needed to know the whereabouts of the people he had kidnapped.

Driven by desperate urgency, she acted. In an almost invisible move to the eyes, she covered the distance between her and Alonso. In less than a second, she was next to him, her hand closed around his neck in a firm grip. In the next instant, both appeared a few meters away, away from the voracious flame.

The blue-haired woman then turned to face Alonso, her dark blue eyes full of fierce determination. She was ready to do whatever it took to get the information she needed, even if that meant saving the life of the criminal standing before her.

Alonso stared in terror at the flame that ruthlessly sought his presence to feed on. However, without its target, the flame stagnated and disappeared, leaving behind a trail of desolation. Alonso sighed with relief and also gratitude for the blue-haired woman who had saved him. He briefly pondered the possibility of her not being a guardian of the city of Green Waters.

Lyon, on the other hand, seemed to have exhausted all his strength. He collapsed on the ground, unable to stay on his feet any longer. His breathing was heavy and gasping, and his vision swirled and wavered dangerously. He was aware of the amount of blood he had lost and knew his condition was precarious.

"Thank you. Let's finish him off now," Alonso proposed to the woman, trying to catch his breath. However, the blue-haired woman had other plans.

"Change," she said, her voice sounding like the whisper of the wind. She raised her slender finger and put it on Alonso's neck. He widened his eyes in alarm, trying to pull away, but her hand seemed to have fused to his neck, making any escape impossible. When she touched his throat, he instinctively tried to protest, but soon realized that his voice had been extinguished, as if it had been ripped from him.

The woman then moved her hand to Alonso's chest. "Change," she repeated with the same calm as before. Alonso felt as if he was being crushed, an unbearable weight pressing against him. Terror and confusion overcame him as he started to writhe and convulse. Then, to his astonishment, he began to change. His body twisted and contracted, forming a translucent sphere that the woman held delicately in her hand.

What was once Alonso was now contained within the bubble, a specter of his former self. The blue-haired woman looked at the sphere with an impassive expression, her eyes shining with an unaltered purpose. She had managed, at least for now, to "protect" Alonso from death. But now, she needed to extract from

 him the information she was so desperately seeking.