Chapter 23: Pressure Builds
The rooftop rattled under their footsteps as fists clashed, a rhythm of violence echoing across the night.
Kaela ducked under a sharp kick and fired a quick jab into the masked assassin's ribs. He grunted and stepped back, then spun low with a sweeping kick. She jumped, flipping midair, and came down hard with a flaming heel aimed at his shoulder. He barely deflected it with crossed arms, skidding backward on the gravel-coated rooftop.
Across from them, Liam was locked in his own war.
His eyes tracked every twitch, every muscle shift. His opponent, silent and calculating, attacked with rapid jabs aimed at pressure points. Liam deflected most—but not all. A jab grazed his neck, sending a jolt through his spine. He bit down and responded with a sliding elbow that caught the assassin's jaw.
They both staggered, stepped back, and readjusted. Neither said a word.
The tension between the four fighters never broke.
Kaela took a hit to the side and winced but caught the attacker's wrist before he pulled away. Her aura surged faintly—burning gold—and she dragged him down into a spinning takedown, slamming him into the rooftop. Before she could press the advantage, he twisted, kicked her off, and sprang back to his feet.
"You're fast," he admitted. "Too fast for someone your age."
Kaela spat blood. "I train harder than you can imagine."
The assassin cracked his neck. "Clearly. But let's see how long that lasts."
He lunged again.
Liam stepped inside his attacker's guard, trading blows in tight, brutal exchanges. Every punch Liam threw was measured—tight angles, compressed force. He struck with elbows, knees, and quick counters, never overcommitting. The assassin responded in kind, sharp and surgical. Their bodies blurred with the speed of each movement.
But Liam was adapting.
He leaned left, avoiding a hook, then struck the assassin's ribs with a knuckle punch. The masked figure choked slightly and staggered back.
"You learn fast," the assassin said, brushing dust from his coat.
"I was trained by someone better than you."
Kaela gritted her teeth as she was forced on the defensive again. Her opponent was pressing harder, using irregular footwork to disorient her. She took a heavy blow to the stomach but managed to plant a boot into his chest and send him sliding back.
The rooftop was a battlefield of grunts, scuffs, and sparks of aura.
Minutes passed—but it felt like hours. Neither side relented.
Kaela's aura flickered, not from exhaustion, but control. She refused to go all out. Liam was holding back too, consciously avoiding awakening what simmered just beneath his skin. They were both fighting as they were—trained, disciplined, but not unleashed.
The assassins, however, began to change.
Their footwork tightened. Their blows came faster. More coordinated. A signal passed between them—silent and subtle. They were preparing something.
Kaela noticed it first. "Liam," she called, chest heaving. "They're changing pace."
"I know."
The rooftop wind slowed. The silence between heartbeats stretched thin.
And then—both assassins stopped.
They stood straight, adjusting their stances. The one Liam fought rolled his shoulders. The one Kaela fought cracked his neck again.
"We wanted to eliminate you as witnesses
"But we thought it would be quick," added the other, voice darker now. "Clearly, we were wrong."
Then it happened.
A deep hum filled the air as a low ripple of energy spread from the assassins' cores. Their cloaks fluttered outward, and their auras—once barely visible—ignited.
Flames laced with shadow. Crimson laced with obsidian.
Kaela flinched, instinctively stepping back.
The air grew heavier.
"We won't underestimate you anymore," the assassins said in eerie unison.
Their eyes glowed through their masks—and the real battle was about to begin.