The Bigshot's Superstar Wife-Chapter 108: Wiped Clean

The night was eerily silent.

These people are soldiers, too?

The metallic scent of blood clung to the air, mixing with the burning fumes of destroyed hovercrafts.

The enemy camp stood in a valley surrounded by jagged cliffs, an isolated location, chosen carefully to keep prisoners from escaping.

Inside a heavily guarded tent, Athena sat on the cold ground, her hands bound in energy cuffs.

Her face was bruised, her clothes torn from the earlier fight, but her spirit was unbroken.

She glared at the soldiers standing watch over her, memorizing their movements, and their weaknesses.

She had already formulated three different escape plans, but the guards were experienced, they weren’t giving her any openings.

A sudden hush fell over the camp.

Athena’s sharp ears caught a distant hum, low, ominous, and growing stronger. The guards tensed, exchanging wary glances.

Then, in the blink of an eye, the night erupted into chaos.

A deafening explosion tore through the western perimeter, sending fire and debris into the air. Soldiers scrambled, shouting orders as alarms blared across the camp.

The ground shook violently as more explosions detonated in quick succession, lighting up the dark sky like an apocalyptic inferno.

The guards in Athena’s tent turned toward the commotion, their grips tightening on their weapons.

That was their first mistake.

Athena lunged forward, using the moment of distraction to swing her legs around one of the guards’ knees.

He stumbled, and before he could recover, she slammed her forehead against his nose, breaking it instantly.

As he howled in pain, she rolled away, twisting her body to bring her cuffed hands under her legs and to the front.

The second guard barely had time to react before Athena snatched the fallen soldier’s dagger with her bound hands and drove it into his throat.

Blood gurgled from his lips as he crumpled, eyes wide with shock.

The camp was falling apart around her.

Outside, the sounds of rapid gunfire mixed with the screams of dying men.

The night was filled with the heavy thud of bodies hitting the ground, the sharp crackle of high-energy weapons, and the unmistakable hum of a warship descending from the sky.

Then she heard it.

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A voice, cold and merciless.

"Leave no one alive."

Mors.

The ground trembled as a massive explosion engulfed the enemy’s eastern line.

In the flickering firelight, dark figures moved like wraiths, cutting through the soldiers like death incarnate.

Mors was leading them.

His silhouette emerged from the flames, his long black coat billowing behind him as he strode forward with lethal grace.

His golden hair shimmered under the fire’s glow, but it was his eyes that sent chills down the spines of those who saw him, icy, pitiless, filled with an unholy rage.

He moved like a phantom, his twin energy blades slicing through enemies with terrifying precision.

Every step he took left a trail of bodies behind him. His men, the elite shadow guards, moved in perfect synchronization, striking down anyone who dared resist.

A squad of enemy reinforcements rushed in from the south, hoping to flank Mors, but they never stood a chance.

With a flick of his wrist, Mors activated his secondary weapon, a high-frequency energy whip.

The weapon lashed out with a crack, wrapping around the neck of the nearest enemy. With a sharp pull, Mors yanked him forward and impaled him with his blade.

The man didn’t even have time to scream.

Athena staggered out of the tent, her body aching but her mind sharp. She barely had time to react before an enemy soldier lunged at her from the side.

But before he could reach her, a sharp whistling sound cut through the air, Mors’ energy whip snapped forward, slicing the attacker clean in half.

Athena barely flinched.

Mors’ icy gaze locked onto hers.

For a split second, something flickered in his expression. Relief.

But it was gone just as fast, replaced by something darker.

"Are you hurt?" His voice was controlled, but there was an edge to it.

Athena wiped blood from her lip. "I’ve had worse."

A muscle in his jaw tensed.

Behind him, the last of the enemy forces were falling. The battlefield was drenched in blood, bodies sprawled across the ground, and weapons abandoned in defeat.

Mors didn’t break eye contact as he reached for the cuffs around her wrists. With a simple flick of his blade, the energy restraints shattered.

Athena flexed her sore wrists, her eyes never leaving his.

"Your timing is impeccable," she muttered.

Mors didn’t smile. He never did. But his fingers brushed against her wrist for just a second, a silent confirmation that he was glad she was safe.

Then, his attention shifted.

A lone survivor, a high-ranking officer, was crawling away, his uniform drenched in blood. He was reaching for a communicator, desperate to send out a distress signal.

Mors stepped forward and pressed his boot against the man’s chest, pinning him down. The officer coughed, blood dripping from his lips.

"Who sent you?" Mors’ voice was deathly quiet.

The man wheezed, his eyes filled with defiance. "You’ll never win."

Mors tilted his head slightly. "Wrong answer."

With a flick of his wrist, his blade buried itself deep into the man’s heart. The officer gasped, his body convulsing once before going still.

Mors wiped his weapon clean and turned back to Athena.

"We’re leaving."

Athena exhaled, nodding. She had no argument. The mission was over.

The camp was nothing more than ruins now, flames consuming what was left of their enemies.

Mors extended his hand. She hesitated for only a moment before taking it. His grip was firm, steady. Unyielding.

As they walked toward the warship, Athena glanced at him from the corner of her eye.

There was something different about Mors tonight.

A storm was brewing inside him.

And she had a feeling this was only the beginning.

As the warship ascended into the night sky, Athena sat across from Mors in the dimly lit cabin.

The hum of the engines filled the silence between them. She studied his face, stoic as ever, but his clenched jaw betrayed the storm within him.

"You’re angry," she murmured.

Mors didn’t look at her. "They dared touch what’s mine."

Athena’s breath hitched, but before she could respond, he stood, turning toward the window.

"This was just a warning," he said coldly. "Next time, I won’t be so merciful."

And Athena knew, his vengeance had only just begun.