The amazoness closed the distance again. Three strides. Fluid. Precise.
The boy got his cutting knife up. Steel crashed against steel, drove him back a step.
She spun. Her bare foot caught his shin. He stumbled.
"Not bad." She pulled back. "For a Level 1."
He reset his guard. Said nothing. Breathing hard.
Across the chamber, Raska's claws scraped the dwarf's plate armor. He swung his mace in a brutal arc. She ducked, drove her knee into his gut.
He doubled over. Stayed on his feet.
"What are you MADE of?!" Her fist clanged off his helmet.
He shook his head. Charged again.
On the opposite side, the elf loosed an arrow at Elara. Her sword blurred. Metal rang. The arrow deflected, clattered against stone.
"Your coordination is sloppy." Her voice even. Matter-of-fact.
The axe guy lunged. She parried with minimal movement, pivoted. Her pommel cracked against the elf's bow. Wood splintered.
He cursed. Drew a short sword.
"Better."
The amazoness pressed forward. The boy blocked her slash. She kicked his knee. He buckled, caught himself. Her other foot swept at his legs. He jumped back, landed wrong, stumbled.
She didn't stab. Slapped the flat of her dagger against his shoulder. Hard.
He winced.
Another slap. Other shoulder. Then his arm.
"Too slow."
He jabbed with his stabbing knife—faster now, desperate.
She danced back.
The words came out. "Why do you people always wear clothes like that?!"
She stopped. Blinked. "What?"
"Your outfit!" His face went red. "It barely covers anything! Where am I supposed to LOOK?!"
"What are you DOING?!" Raska shouted from across the chamber.
"TRYING TO SURVIVE!"
The amazoness's cheeks flushed. "It's our TRADITION!"
"Well it's DISTRACTING!"
Her face darkened, red creeping up her neck. "Then stop LOOKING, pervert!"
"I'M NOT—I CAN'T—YOU KEEP MOVING!"
"SHUT UP!"
She came at him. No more playing. Her knee drove into his stomach. He doubled over. She spun, heel catching him square in the ass. He stumbled forward.
Another kick. His leg. He hopped, lost balance, hit the ground.
She was on him—bare foot on his chest, daggers crossed at his throat.
Face burning. Wouldn't look at him.
"Yield."
His face matched her color. "...Yield."
She stepped back. Turned away fast.
The dwarf's mace caught Raska's shoulder. She hissed, stumbled.
"Raska!" Elara's voice cut through.
"I'm FINE!" Raska grabbed the dwarf's arm, twisted. He brought his helmet down toward her face.
She jerked back. His forehead caught her cheek. Blood on her lip.
She went still.
Then moved.
Her claws found the gap under his helmet, ripped it off. Her fist crunched into his jaw.
He dropped.
"FINALLY!" She kicked him once. "Stubborn bastard."
She turned. Saw the amazoness standing over the boy.
Her eyes narrowed.
Three strides. Fast.
The amazoness looked up. Too late.
Raska's fist cracked against her chin. The amazoness's head snapped back. She dropped.
"Nobody except me puts hands on my party," Raska said flatly.
Behind her, the dwarf groaned, starting to sit up.
Raska turned, walked back, kicked him once. Hard. "Stay down."
He went still.
Elara's sword flashed twice. The axe guy stumbled back clutching a bleeding arm. The elf raised his hands, dropped his sword.
The longsword guy groaned awake. The dwarf didn't move. The amazoness pushed herself up slowly, touched her jaw. Still wouldn't look at the boy.
"Stay down." Elara's sword stayed ready. "All of you."
The axe guy collapsed against the wall. The elf backed away, hands up. The amazoness sat where she'd fallen.
Silence.
Just water dripping on stone.
The boy stood, a few bruises forming. Face still red.
"That went better than expected."
"You talked too much." Elara lowered her sword slightly.
"I KNOW."
Raska laughed, clapped his shoulder—hard. He winced. "What the hell was that? 'Where am I supposed to LOOK?!' Thought she was gonna explode!"
"It just—came out—"
"You held your own," Elara said. "Barely."
"Got my ass kicked."
"True." Raska grinned. "But you lasted longer than I thought."
The boy glanced at the amazoness. She stared at the floor, jaw tight, still red.
"...Sorry?"
"Shut up."
Footsteps.
Different rhythm. Precise. Measured. Heavy.
Everyone turned. Not the tunnel they'd entered from. Not the one behind them.
A third tunnel. Dark until now.
The footsteps echoed—confident, unhurried.
The defeated adventurers tensed. The axe guy's eyes widened.
A figure emerged from the darkness.
Pitch black cloak. Hood drawn deep, everything concealed in shadow.
Tall. Moved with absolute certainty.
He stopped at the chamber's edge. Looked at the scene—five on the ground, three standing, blood on stone. The pack with Phantom Vine still on Elara's back.
Nobody moved.
The silence stretched.
"Now what?" the boy said quietly. "Everyone's after this one thing?"
"Looks like it," Raska said.
The figure took a step forward.
Just one.
The sound cut through the silence like a blade.