The moment Jin reached the final hallway before the Warden's door, she dropped down in front of him like a guillotine.
No words. No warning.
Just a woman—tall, thick with muscle, barefoot, her knuckles bloodied like she'd torn through dozens to get here.
Her hair was tied in a rough knot, sweat dripping down her brow. The jumpsuit around her waist was torn at the seams, showing a tank top soaked through, and her fists were clenched like they had never been unclenched.
Jin slowed.
He could feel it.
The tension in the air.
She didn't come to talk.
She took one step forward, her bare heel cracking the tiles beneath.
Jin's fingers curled around the hilt of his sword—Muramasa humming faintly with heat.
"You're in my way."
The woman didn't speak.
She charged.
Her foot slammed down—an instant afterimage—and she was already mid-air, knee cocked back.
Jin's body moved.
He dove sideways as the blow came down—shattering the floor like a crater.
Debris exploded around them.
