At the first beat of Keiser's attack, the chaos unraveled wider.
His step had been the spark---the crack of flint that set the whole tinderbox aflame. Whether it was the signal they had been waiting for, or simply the excuse they desperately needed, the dam finally broke.
The men who had been holding the beast---those who scrambled back just before the wards shifted---were the first to move.
They'd watched their comrades left outside, just steps from safety, only to be shoved back into the beasts' jaws. Rage churned with pain and grief. The gate was open. The ward could have saved them. But someone had decided they were expendable.
They shoved through the crush of bodies crowding the entrance, leaping the barricade of panicked men, women, and children. Bruised, bloodied, and gasping from the fight beyond the walls, they came on with fists, logs, and stones... not at beasts this time, but at the humans who had abandoned them.
And their voices rose with them... hoarse, furious, unyielding.
"…Outsiders?!"
"…You murdered our people... there's no excuse for that!"
"…You think you can throw us out again?"
The words cut sharper than blades, louder than the clash.
Keiser heard of it even as he hurled himself toward the mage... the tide was turning. The fight was catching eyes, dragging more into its pull like a riptide no one could escape.
The so-called 'outsiders'... mercenaries, adventurers, travelers who had wandered in days ago, even weary refugees... had been meant as sacrifices. Fodder. Kept alive, hidden, fed only until their turn came. But now, as Hinnom's true face bared itself, something snapped in them.
They surged forward, desperation twisting into defiance. Shovels, stones, torches, anything that could be used as a weapon found hands to wield them. Their eyes, once dull with shock and fear, blazed with the fire of cornered prey striking back.
The mercenaries who had driven them outside to die now found themselves beset on both sides... not by beasts, but by the very people they had penned in as cattle.
The order had collapsed. The fight was no longer a battle, but a riot... an uprising, swelling louder with every scream and clash of steel.
The village of Hinnom---meant to be the last stronghold against Sheol, shackled under lies and curses... was breaking its chains.
And at its heart, Keiser dove straight for the source of rot.
Keiser's slide carried him across the dirt, sparks scraping from the princess's short blade as he dragged it to brake his momentum. He twisted his wrist deliberately, making the motion sharp and wide... a flourish meant to catch the mercenary's eye, a distraction as much as defense.
It worked.
The man's gaze snapped to Keiser, his eyes drawn to the gleam of the blade. But in that fraction of a heartbeat... before his instincts could drag the claymore back into line... the princess had already moved.
Her breath caught, sharp and deliberate, the sound almost like a call. The steel answered her. The other short blade, still half-buried in the dirt where it had fallen, ripped free as though impatient to be idle no longer. It sang as it crossed the air, a faint, eager ring, and landed with perfect precision into her waiting palm.
At the same instant Keiser slid under the mercenary's swing, the torchlight catching on his blade, the princess vaulted upward. A blur of white and steel, her body coiled and uncoiled in one seamless motion.
Her boots struck the broad flat of the claymore with a jarring clang. The sheer audacity of it... the impossible balance, the defiance... stole the mercenary's focus.
His head jerked toward her. His wrists faltered. The mighty claymore dipped under her sudden weight, sagging toward the ground.
The sheer audacity of it jolted the mercenary, making him look away from Keiser because of the heavy sword sagged under the sudden weight.
Yona's hair whipped behind her, her eyes catching the firelight from the torch... not dimmed, not broken. Even stripped of her own flame, with only one of her short blades in hand, her gaze blazed with unyielding resolve.
Keiser left the larger man... He had no intention of clashing swords with the man. Muzio's body wasn't built to handle him anyway... No... his target was beyond
He stabbed the princess's short blade into the dirt, using it as leverage to twist his body sideways, redirecting all his motion. A move he had seen her do... twice already, maybe more... and turn on the one who truly deserved attention.
The mercenary, caught between her weight and his shifting stance, had no room to turn.
Perfect.
Keiser pushed off the ground, lunging past the mercenary's flank. His eyes locked on the mage, that wretched old figure still shrieking venom into the firelit night.
"CURSE! You curse-born filth!" the mage bellowed, his lips curling in a snarl. His spit gleamed in the torchlight as he jabbed a shaking hand at Keiser. "You've brought evil into this place! Evil, boy! Those eyes are evil!"
The words grated no deeper than any wound he has. Instead, they drove him forward.
Keiser leapt, the princess' blade tight in his hand, his body screaming from torn flesh and burning runes running down his legs and calves. He flew straight for the mage...
The true blight of Hinnom, the festering disease that had poisoned the people with fear and lies.
The old man's eyes widened, his tirade cutting short with a gasp.
And Keiser bared his teeth in something between a grimace and a grin.
But of course, the mercenary still managed to struck back.
With a roar, the man planted his boots deep into the churned dirt, muscles corded and veins standing out, anchoring his weight. The claymore surged upward in a brutal weave, dragging the air with it.
Even with the princess still poised on the flat of his blade, the force was enough to break her footing... she sprang clear just in time, boots leaving the steel as the weapon carved a violent arc.
The swing ripped the air apart. A gust, raw and heavy as a wall, slammed outward from the sheer force of his strike. It staggered not just Keiser, but the other mercenaries, even outsiders who had been holding their ground at the gate.
Some stumbled, barely keeping their heels from crossing the ward's line... because once they were outside, there would be no stepping back in.
Keiser braced, bringing his blade up in a desperate guard.
The impact came like a hammer.
The short blade screamed under the weight of the claymore, and Keiser's arms buckled.
The power behind the mercenary's blow was monstrous... no mere brawler's strength, but the kind honed in blood. Even as Keiser flared the runes on his back, shoulders, and neck, his body shuddered against the crushing force.
And then he was airborne.
The impact hurled him several paces, the ground rushing up to meet him. But Keiser did not let the momentum destroy him... he twisted, rolled with the blow, and hit the dirt shoulder-first. The jolt rattled through his ribs, tearing the breath from his lungs, but it saved him from shattering outright.
He slid to a halt, sword braced in his hand like a cane. His legs nearly gave, his balance slipping as a wave of dizziness blurred his vision. The taste of iron filled his mouth, but he didn't register the blood streaming from his nose, nor the fresh crimson soaking through the bandages that had been holding his wounds together.
Keiser staggered forward, boots dragging grooves into the dirt. His breath hitched, then burst out in a cough that spattered blood across the ground. His grip on the sword trembled violently, knuckles white, a ragged wheeze tearing through his throat.
Keiser thought bitterly that he should have burnt defensive runes as well. Reinforcement gave him speed, power... but not the shell he desperately needed now. He could still hold his mind sharp, his plan clutched tightly in focus for a few fleeting seconds... but Muzio's body was failing beneath him.
The brief rest he'd stolen earlier hadn't been enough. Not even close.
His gaze flicked to the princess. She was a blur of movement, her single short blade lashing out in relentless bursts. The mercenary, despite his monstrous strength, was on the defensive, forced to parry her barrage or be cut down.
Keiser's free hand raked through his hair, dragging the sweat-soaked strands back from his face. A groan escaped his chest, half pain, half frustration. His thoughts tumbled, every plan unraveling against the same truth... this body couldn't keep up.
The runes burned hot but unfamiliar. Each use scraped at him from the inside, damaging him in ways he couldn't yet name.
And then... nothing.
His mind emptied.
Oh.
The clarity was sudden, terrifyingly simple.
He broke into a sprint.
The runes along his back, shoulder, and neck flared, pumping everything he had left into raw motion. His body screamed in protest, but he drove it harder, faster, each step hammering like it could be his last.
The princess saw him.
Their eyes locked for a fraction of a heartbeat.
She understood.
With a cry, she drove herself harder, blades flashing as she forced the mercenary back, pinning his attention forward.
Which left Keiser free.
Free to bear down on the other threat... the one who had noticed him.
The old man's chalk flashed, his face twisting into a snarl.
"Diego!" he shrieked, voice cracking with fury. "You useless mutt! Stop wasting time on that beast! This one... this evil-eyed boy... kill him!"
The order cracked like a whip. The mercenary's head began to turn.
And Keiser, blood still streaming from his nose, teeth bared in a half-snarl, threw himself into the charge.