— "NO!" Utsuki screamed.
This time, she didn't try any finesse. She pressed her palms together and let the mana explode violently, brutally. A shockwave pulled her off the ground and slammed into the assassin, throwing her three steps back. The floor cracked. The wall splintered.
It was raw magic. Inefficient. Uncontrolled. But it was enough.
The assassin landed awkwardly, and for a moment, she hesitated. She looked at Utsuki, surprised.
— "You're more dangerous than you seem," she said, wiping the corner of her lips. "But even more stupid. Now I know where to strike."
And she lunged at Utsuki.
Toki screamed and threw himself in front of her.
The assassin lunged at Utsuki like a hungry panther, her knives gleaming in the charged air. Every step she took seemed like a promise of death.
Toki didn't think — he acted. He threw himself in front of Utsuki, arms raised, no sword, no protection, just his body.
— "NO!" he yelled, with a force beyond fear.
The blade scratched his shoulder as it passed, cutting through his shirt and skin, but it did its job: the assassin was pushed to the side by the unexpected impact. She landed with a quick roll, then rose, her eyes narrowed, staring at Toki like a puzzle that no longer obeyed the rules.
— "You've put yourself between me and my target," she said, almost curiously. "And you have no plan. No weapon. No shield."
— "I don't need one," Toki replied through gritted teeth. "I've got enough scars to know I can take it."
She laughed briefly, without any humor.
— "But the others won't."
And she was preparing to strike again, but just then — a scream from deep within a chest echoed throughout the room:
— "BACK, YOU WRETCHED THING!"
The old man came running, blood dripping from his sword and from his side. His face was pale, but his eyes — burning.
Without waiting for any response, he collided with the assassin in a lightning-fast attack, his blade cutting through the air like a thunderbolt. Toki barely had time to dive to the ground. Utsuki pulled Tora back.
The swords clashed with a sharp sound, the floor creaking beneath the pressure of their movements. The old man was pushing her, relentlessly, with raw force, no longer following any technique, just pure desperation.
— "Toki, stay with the girls! Don't tell me what I can or can't do!" he yelled through clenched teeth.
Utsuki crouched next to Toki, trying again to form a magic circle — her hands moved precisely, but she felt it: the energy wouldn't gather properly. The assassin's aura distorted the lines.
— "It's not working... it's not coming together right..." she said desperately. "I can dampen her reactions, but I can't stop her!"
Toki grabbed a wooden plate from the table and, in a desperate move, threw it toward the assassin's head. It ricocheted off the wall, but it distracted her for a moment.
Just enough for the old man to slash at her arm — not deeply, but enough to make it clear. Blood spurted out. A sharp hiss.
The assassin jumped back, distancing herself a few steps. She was breathing heavily, but still smiling. She was wounded, but not defeated. The old man was almost collapsing. Toki — bleeding. Utsuki — powerless.
— "Hm... interesting," she said, wiping the blood off her blade. "You've lasted longer than I expected. One minute. Maybe two. Then... silence will follow."
Tora trembled in the corner, but now she looked at Toki with wide eyes. To her, he was something else already.
Toki stood up slowly, his steps heavy, and looked the killer in the eyes.
— "You said silence will follow," he said. "Then let me say something before that."
He took a step closer.
— "This isn't the first time I've died here. But it might be the first time you lose."
Toki stepped between the old man and the assassin, his body moving before thought could catch up. He raised his arms just in time to intercept the blade that plunged into his shoulder. The steel tore through flesh and muscle, biting deep into bone, but he did not falter. He grunted, gritted his teeth, and with an immense push, shoved the old man backward toward Utsuki and Tora.
The old man stumbled, sword still in hand, blood dripping from his side and lips, but he caught himself before falling. Toki's hand, still pierced by the dagger, clenched around its hilt. The assassin's smirk faded the moment she realized he wasn't going to fall. Instead, with a ferocious growl, Toki clenched the blade so tightly that it cracked in his palm with a sickening crunch — the steel snapping like brittle glass, his hand torn to ribbons.
A river of blood poured from his palm, but his eyes were fixed, cold and determined. With his other hand, he slammed a brutal punch into the assassin's chest. The impact sent her stumbling backward, the breath knocked from her lungs in a hoarse gasp. She slid across the floor, landing hard against a table which splintered under her weight.
The room fell silent for a split second. Utsuki and Tora stared wide-eyed, frozen in awe and horror. Toki's stance shifted. His feet planted wide, one arm hanging limp and bloodied, the other poised. His body — broken, bruised, but unyielding — resembled an immovable wall. His eyes were dead calm. No rage. No fear. Just the cold calculation of a beast that had tasted blood.
The assassin moved — fast — a blur of black cloth and shining knives. But Toki was no longer the same man. He twisted to the side, slipping past her strike, and in a brutal pivot, grabbed her by the pelvis, lifting her off the ground. With a roar that shook the room, he hurled her like a ragdoll into the stone wall. Her back hit the surface with a crack, and dust exploded from the impact. She crumpled, then rolled, staggering to her feet.
"You're strong..." she hissed, spitting blood. "But you're bleeding out. You'll die before me."
Toki didn't answer. His breath came in wheezes, but he never looked away. He watched her — every twitch of muscle, every subtle shift in stance. When she leapt again, he was ready.
She lunged, her blade aiming for his eyes, hoping for a quick kill. Toki ducked, pivoted, and in a fluid motion, brought his leg up. A devastating high kick cracked against her shoulder with the force of a hammer. Her body was flung downward, crashing into the floorboards, which buckled beneath the impact.
From the ground, Toki grabbed the old man's sword — still slick with blood — and rose. The blade trembled in his grasp, not from fear, but from the sheer pain running through his broken fingers. He stepped forward. The assassin sprang to meet him.
Steel clashed with steel in a cacophony of sparks. Her speed was inhuman, slicing at his arms, legs, even grazing his cheek — each strike drawing more blood. But Toki pressed forward. Every cut he received was met with a counter, every dodge brought him closer. Blood sprayed from both their bodies like rain.
He bled from a dozen gashes. His ribs cracked. His breathing became erratic, wet. But still he fought. Still he stood.
He ducked low.
She retreated — a mistake.
He stomped down, catching her foot with his heel, locking her in place. She looked down, but too late.
With a primal cry, Toki twisted his hips, gathered every ounce of force from his spine, shoulder, and rage, and launched a fist into her side. The punch was unnatural — like the snap of a tiger's jaw. His knuckles broke the edge of her blade mid-swing, splinters of metal exploding in every direction. His fist slammed into her ribs, and a thunderclap echoed through the inn.
She screamed.
The impact was so powerful that her body shot backward, crashing through the doorframe. The wooden frame exploded into shards, the wall behind her cracked and cratered.
She gasped, coughing blood — thick, red, bubbling. Her eyes were wide. Panic crept in.
She staggered to her feet, blade trembling in her hand, one arm hanging useless. Her ribcage was sunken, chest heaving shallowly.
Toki advanced.
She raised the blade, her last shield.
He grabbed the sword again. His fingers, torn and ruined, clenched around the hilt until blood ran down the handle. With a final roar, he channeled everything he had — fury, pain, soul — and swung.
The blade whistled through the air, fast enough to singe the wind.
When it struck, the force triggered an explosion of light — a blinding burst that shook the walls.
The assassin stumbled back. Her blade was shattered in half. A massive gash opened across her abdomen, deep and wet. The wall behind her disintegrated from the shockwave. Rubble rained down.
She dropped to one knee. Her breath came in choking gasps.
Then... she smiled.
"My name... is Surughi Nihon," she whispered. "You earned it."
With bloodied fingers, she reached for a nearby oil lamp. Toki's eyes widened.
"No—!"
She hurled the lamp onto a pile of wooden crates soaked in ale.
Flames erupted instantly, crawling up the walls like demons set loose. Smoke billowed. The fire roared, feeding on dry wood and fury.
Surughi turned, limping, a trail of blood marking her path.
"Next time," she said, vanishing into the smoke.