Kiera reacted with the instincts of a master warrior. Even caught by surprise, she was a whirlwind of motion.
She parried the first stun baton with her forearm guard, the impact sending a shower of sparks into the night.
She spun away from the second soldier's attack, her blade already drawn.
But she was outnumbered, caught in a kill-box with three opponents who were expecting her.
Cassian, the corrupt officer, drew his own weapon, a heavy-duty plasma pistol, and opened fire.
Kiera was forced onto the defensive, her blade a blur as she deflected the plasma bolts, but the two soldiers with stun batons pressed their advantage, trying to flank her, to box her in.
Her diminished power meant she couldn't rely on overwhelming force.
She was fighting a battle of pure skill and endurance, and the odds were against her.
From his hiding spot, Ryu watched in horror.
His heart hammered against his ribs.
His instructions were clear: be the 'eyes,' stay hidden.
But his protector, his partner, was about to be overwhelmed. He was no match for a single Vanguard soldier, let alone three opponents.
Direct intervention was suicide.
Then Joric's words echoed in his mind: 'They don't fight with swords; they fight with whispers.' And Kiera's: 'Your leverage is not just physical. It's energetic.' He couldn't fight them, but maybe he didn't have to.
He closed his eyes, ignoring the chaos of the battle, and reached for the river of ChainForce within him.
He didn't try to pull on it, not like he did with Silas.
That had nearly killed him. Instead, he tried to guide it, to nudge it.
He focused on the environment around the fight.
A stack of empty metal barrels. A loose advertising sign hanging from a storefront.
A flickering street lamp overhead. He took a deep breath, found his center, and *pushed*.
It was a small, subtle manipulation.
The stack of barrels, a dozen meters away from the fight, suddenly toppled over with a deafening crash.
The sound was explosive in the narrow street. One of the Vanguard soldiers flinched, his head whipping around toward the noise, his discipline breaking for a fraction of a second.
It was the only opening Kiera needed. She lunged, her blade disabling his weapon arm with a precise, surgical strike.
One down.
Cassian, his face a mask of anger, refocused his fire on Kiera.
Ryu pushed again, this time at the flickering street lamp above the officer's head.
The lamp exploded in a shower of sparks and darkness, plunging their side of the street into shadow.
Cassian cried out in surprise, his aim thrown off.
In the confusion, Kiera disengaged from the remaining soldier and closed the distance to Cassian, her blade now at his throat.
"Drop it," she commanded.
The last soldier, seeing his partner captured and his other comrade disabled, hesitated.
This was not how the ambush was supposed to go. They had been prepared for a warrior.
They had not been prepared for a ghost who could turn the world itself against them.
Ryu, hidden in the darkness, felt a wave of dizziness wash over him.
The effort of such focused, subtle manipulation was draining, but it hadn't broken him.
He had influenced a battle without throwing a single punch. He had been a weapon, but an unseen one.
The last soldier, seeing the situation was lost, made a choice.
He didn't surrender.
He activated a device on his wrist, and a blinding flash erupted from his position.
When Kiera's vision cleared, the soldier was gone, having escaped into the night.
But they had their prize.
Cassian stood trembling, Kiera's blade at his throat, his face a picture of pure terror.
The trap had been turned, and the hunters had captured their bait.