The seductress eyed me like I was a particularly appetizing cut of meat, her gaze slow, indulgent.
Then her tongue traced her lips.
She took a step closer, heels clicking against the floor in measured rhythm.
Another step. Closer still.
I held my ground, jaw locked, eyes forward.
Then—
"Uh, hey!" Felt snapped, irritation lacing her voice. "Can we just get this over with? You guys can go make out after the deal."
The woman stopped.
She didn't look at Felt.
Her eyes lingered on mine for a second longer… then turned away like I had failed some private test.
She glided to a seat at the table in front of the bar and crossed her legs like this was just another negotiation, like she didn't carry death under that cloak.
Felt let out a cheer before jumping over behind the boy from Earth and shoving him towards the table.
"Alright, so you four, or I guess three, since those two," she gestured to me and Emilia, who had shifted closer to me, "are together. Anyway, you all are rivals."
With that final declaration, Tracksuit sat down across from the scantily clad woman, awkward energy seeping from his expression that he quickly buried with a confident smile that wasn't fooling anybody.
'Why is he trying to get Emilia's insignia? And with what money? He looks like he just arrived in this world.'
I moved to the kids' side of the table, with Emilia right behind me. I wasn't about to give Ms. Daggers a free shot at either of us.
Felt dragged over a stool and sat beside the boy. Rom took his usual place on one of the barstools, looming over the scene like a silent referee.
Once everyone was settled, Felt kicked things off.
"Now I don't really care who gets the insignia, so I'll sell it to the highest bidder."
"I think I like that personality of yours," replied Ms. Daggers before her gaze shifted to Tracksuit, "And how much did this young man bid?"
For the first time since I'd laid eyes on him, Tracksuit finally spoke. His tone was casual, oddly relaxed given the tension in the room.
"I'm putting up this metia," he said.
My eyes widened. Reinhard had told me about them, I'd even seen him use one, but I didn't expect this guy to just pull one out like it was spare change.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a gray, rectangular device. He placed it on the table, flipped it open, and a soft glow spilled from the screen. From where I stood behind him, I could see him navigating the thing.
"It's a rare item, probably the only one of its kind in this world," he continued with his sales pitch.
I bit back a laugh as I caught on to what he was doing.
Reason and Judgement.
Click.
Time froze as Tracksuit's finger hovered just above the button that would snap a photo.
'Is this guy seriously trying to pass off an old-ass flip-phone from Earth as a metia?'
My Authority dulled the disbelief. What should've had me cracking up at the sheer ridiculousness of it all instead passed as mild amusement. I let time resume, my emotions in check.
A flash of light blinked in the dimming room of the building, and the assassin flinched slightly in mild surprise as she had her picture taken and then shown to her.
"That muscleman told me it's worth no less than twenty holy coins," Tracksuit said, smug creeping into his tone. I couldn't see his face from where I stood, but I could hear the grin. He was getting confident. Nothing had gone wrong yet. Just words being tossed around.
Then I noticed him angle the camera toward me, catching my reflection in the screen. I gave a lazy smirk and a little wave before turning my attention back to Ms. Daggers.
"A unique metia… hmm," a chuckle of amusement as she nodded her head in amusement, "It just so happens the client sent me with some extra funds. Just in case I needed to sweeten the deal."
Felt looked like she was about to ask how much, but Tracksuit cut in.
"The client, huh? So you were hired to fetch this thing, too?" He jerked a thumb back toward me. "These two behind me said something similar."
I caught the stare from the nearly naked woman in front of him, cold, unreadable, and straight through me.
"Indeed," Ms. Daggers said. "My client wants the insignia. So... you three are in the same business?"
I weighed my options. How long could I keep this lie going? When does the act stop being useful, and when does raw action become the better move?
Luckily, Tracksuit jumped in to cover for me, raising his hand and thumbing at himself.
"Being in the same business as me means you're unemployed," he said. "So I don't think I can lump myself in with you guys."
Another trigger of Reason and Judgement left me willing to continue pushing the envelope.
"Well, I can say with confidence that my partner and I are not unemployed. And it would seem that we do share a similar profession, no?"
A beat of silence. I met Ms. Daggers' eyes, empty things, void of warmth or hesitation.
"Cleaning up other people's messes," I finished.
She hummed, eyes closing, lips curling into the ghost of a smile.
"How much did your boss give you?" I asked, tone light, casual, keeping the pressure off us. "I'm just curious. Trying to gauge how much this insignia really means to your boss compared to ours."
Without a word, she pulled out a small brown pouch and emptied it onto the table. A neat clink of silver.
Holy coins. If Reinhard's crash course in economics was right, and Reason and Judgment confirmed it, there were twenty of them. Rom took a moment to sort them into four clean stacks of five, then gave a slow nod.
"These are all the holy coins my employer sent with me," she said. "And you, dear? How much did your employer give you?"
There it was. The jig, teetering. One wrong move and it'd hit the floor.
I sighed, long and exaggerated. Scratched at my hair and leaned back, letting frustration drip off me.
"Well, my dear partner," I said, turning to Emilia, "My memory might be trash most days, but I'm sure we didn't get more than fifteen holy coins for this job. What a shame. Looks like I'll be reassigned when we get back."
Emilia reached out and gave my hand a soft squeeze. Her head tilted just enough to silently say What the hell are you talking about?
"We're out of the race," I shrugged. "Looks like it's between this guy and you, Miss…?"
"Elsa," she replied, voice smooth. "A shame your employer couldn't provide more."
"Eh, tell me about it. Budget cuts." I gave another shrug and stepped back from the table.
Rom finally spoke, his gravelly voice cutting through the room. "As I see it, the deal leans toward the boy. That metia of his, find the right buyer, it's worth more than coin."
He turned to Elsa and gave a slow shake of the head. "Sorry for you and your employer. Best bag up those coins and walk."
This was it.
Elsa didn't protest. She just shook her head, the faintest smile curling her lips. No disappointment. No anger. Nothing readable.
I took another step back, tightening my grip on Emilia's hand, then pulled her with me one more pace.
Leaning in, I whispered, barely audible, "Careful."
Tracksuit chose that exact moment to throw his arms up and shout, "Yeeeeesss!"
Victory pose.
Silence.
Everyone just stared.
"Wh-what?" He asked, confused. "What's wrong with a little victory pose? I'm psyched!"
Nobody responded. Nobody needed to. Felt echoed the silence with a flat, "Nobody said anything."
Then Elsa stood.
Face blank. Voice level. "This deal has ended in disappointment for me, a shame, considering Mother doesn't tolerate such things."
Eyes locked on her, I reached across the bartop and wrapped my fingers around the curved sword I'd tested earlier. Cold steel. Comfortable weight.
Elsa turned her gaze to Tracksuit. "By the way, what do you intend to do with that insignia?"
He smiled like he hadn't just stepped into a pit full of spikes.
"Oh, I'm going to find its owner and return it to her."
The air shifted.
Emilia's grip on my hand tightened. I squeezed back, steady.
Maybe he was bluffing. Maybe not. Didn't matter.
I could feel it, like the pressure before a storm. My Authority surged, heat rising in my chest, every nerve alive, every hair standing.
Everyone else watched him.
I watched her.
Elsa.
Her expression snapped.
Gone was the neutral mask. What replaced it was honed steel, pure, focused malice, sharp enough to carve through armor.
"So… you're with them, then."
A cruel grin unfurled across her face.
Mana surged from my gate.
I let go of Emilia, raised my left arm, and shaped my fingers into a gun.
Reason and Judgment.
Click.
The world fractured like glass.
Time shattered.
The scene froze with razor clarity. Every detail vivid, every motion suspended mid-beat.
Elsa was already moving, dagger half-drawn. Now that I saw more of it, I recognized the shape. Kukri-style. Nasty curve, built for tearing.
Rom, eyes sharp, was halfway to his feet, massive club rising from where it had rested unnoticed.
Felt was lunging, arms outstretched to tackle Tracksuit. Smart. Elsa's eyes were locked on him; he was target number one. His dumb little celebration had pushed her over the edge.
Or maybe she'd just needed an excuse.
Either way, the bloodbath had been coming.
'Lucky for them I'm here.'
I released my hold on time. Reality snapped back together like slamming a door.
Finger gun up.
Mana flooding through me, hot and focused.
A micro-trigger of Reason and Judgment gave me the blueprint I needed, the perfect balance of mana for a Jiwald flickered through my retinas.
I didn't even need to say the incantation. A strong enough will and intent would do.
A brilliant white flash lit up the room.
Elsa's eyes snapped to mine. Her grin widened into something feral as she raised her free arm to block the beam.
The Jiwald cut clean through, severing the limb just below the elbow.
She didn't scream.
She moved.
Vaulted over the table in a single, fluid motion. Inhuman speed.
Half a heartbeat later, she was already closing the gap between us, just a blur of black and bloodlust—
Then came the ice.
A wall of it erupted between us, sharp and translucent.
Something cracked.
Next thing I knew, I was being yanked backward.
Emilia.
Her hood was down, and Puck floated at her side, glowing like a tiny sun.
A massive smash rang out as Elsa's blade slammed against the ice, spiderwebbing the surface.
"Ethan! Are you alright!?" Emilia shouted.
But I didn't have time to answer.
Reason and Judgment ignited again.
A glint, light catching the edge of a dagger, cutting through the air straight for me.
'It's elementary, Ethan. Raise your borrowed sword, set your blade at a twenty-eight-degree angle, and apply force.'
Time resumed.
I moved.
Shiiiing.
Steel clashed, sparks exploded, and the dagger was deflected.
Elsa's eyes locked with mine, her smile only growing wider as I continued to rapidly trigger my Authority. Another strike, another parry, a counter that missed, and a single perfect step back that dodged a blow that would have left a rift in my throat.
Time fractured, again and again. Steel flared. Footwork blurred. My world was reduced to motion, impact, calculation.
I should've been terrified. My body flooded with adrenaline, nerves burning with chemical chaos built for running.
But instead?
I embraced it.
With every parry. Every riposte. Every flicker of Reason and Judgment—
I didn't feel fear.
I felt ALIVE.
Elsa retreated for a moment. Three ice spears shot toward her, Emilia's work. Elsa shattered two with a swipe, dodged the third with a fluid twist.
I exhaled. A second to breathe.
A minute of real time.
But in Reason and Judgment?
Hours.
Every moment had to be calculated, every swing, the trajectory of blades, the minute shifts in expression, posture, footing, EVERYTHING.
I wanted to see it all—
Had to see it all if I wanted to survive.
Emilia flanked me, Puck floating above her shoulder, ready. They'd hold the line with me.
"What a surprise," Elsa drawled, "It seems you do poor work, little slum dweller." She pointed her dagger at Felt.
"The original owner of the insignia is standing right in front of me." She licked the side of her blade, "How fortunate for me. Saves me the time of having to go looking for you."
She was taunting us while revealing that Emilia wasn't just to have her insignia taken. She was to be killed, too.
'Who the fuck is this woman?'
Elsa was fast, impossibly fast, moved like water with the edge of a blade. Precise, agile, unrelenting.
And she was holding back.
I saw it in her eyes, pure battle lust. The pink dusting her cheeks. She wasn't fighting to kill.
She was playing.
I wasn't a threat. I was a toy. Durable. Entertaining.
If I wanted to win, it had to be quick, one decisive strike. Or drag her down until something gave.
Then I saw it. And all my plans cracked.
Click.
Time stopped.
Her severed arm, regrowing.
Flesh stretching, mid-regeneration. Veins threading through the air like roots.
'She has regeneration,' came the grim realization.
It had only just now kicked in, or I would have noticed it long ago.
'Perhaps fire will purge this abomination,' came another voice, hope offered like a weapon.
It would have to do.
She wasn't healing instantly. But if I couldn't outpace her recovery, this would turn into a losing war of attrition.
Time slipped forward again.
"I can do this!" Tracksuit's voice cut through the chaos.
He'd been pushed behind Emilia, Felt herding him there once it was clear that the 'client' wanted them dead.
Rom had joined them, protecting the rear.
That left Emilia and me front and center.
First on the chopping block.
And I grinned at that.
In that breath of a lull, Puck and Emilia launched a salvo of ice.
Elsa grinned wider.
She blitzed through the bullet hell, weaving, spinning, rushing Emilia, but couldn't land a strike. Puck was too precise. Emilia moved with him in perfect rhythm, keeping Elsa at range.
Another clash, another spear of ice shattered against her blade in a burst of glittering mana.
Just as she prepared to charge again, I shifted my stance.
Puck unleashed a freezing blast.
It hit Elsa square, sending her flying, straight toward me.
Reason and Judgment triggered on instinct. Authority blazed through me.
Time fractured.
I swung.
But she twisted in midair. Slipped my strike like smoke. Leapt over me.
I ducked just in time to avoid a vicious kick aimed at my skull.
Another microtrigger, two blades flashed toward me. I parried both, barely. Elsa was ramping up, testing me, pressing for blood.
And she was close to getting it.
My mind was still moving at lightning speed, but my body? Slipping.
Swordplay at this pace wasn't what I was built for. Every swing was catching up to me. My muscles lagged. My reflexes dulled.
A perfect parry became a bloody gash across my right bicep. I felt it, sharp, hot. My blade faltered again. Elsa pushed it aside like it was nothing.
A barrage of ice from Emilia and Puck should've bought me a breather.
But Elsa didn't retreat.
She charged.
One shard slammed into her leg, she barely flinched. Her eyes lit up with wild joy.
Both blades swung down in unison, aimed low in what I had long ago pegged as her preferred style of kill due to the continuous attempts on me.
Disembowelment.
Click.
Movement halted.
I stood in the frozen moment, body off-balance, too exposed. Emilia had bought me seconds, but not enough to reset.
I stood there, for what felt like an hour, calculating, dissecting, deciding.
But the reality was that there was really only one option left.
'Indomitable.'
The second star of my Authority. My most underutilized ability. One I had only successfully used once in a spar and again against the Witch and her strange powers.
'Reinhard's wooden sword shattered against Indomitable. I suppose we're going to find out whether it truly lives up to the name. Will I be undefeatable under its added weight? Or will this harlot get what she wants? My guts on the floor.'
I bathed in the warmth of Indomitable. My Authority melted into my skin in the frozen moment, and for once, I felt something other than the absence of everything. I felt heat.
My gaze lifted and met Elsa's crazed one. If I were going to die, I'd do it with a grin on my face.
Time slipped.
The blades came down—
And shattered.
A thousand pieces of steel scattered like dust, glinting in the room light.
They danced across my body. Fell like ash against my chest.
And I was still standing.
Elsa's eyes widened, shock, disbelief—
Then my left fist connected with her face.
BOOM.
The sound shattered the room. Like a lightning strike going off indoors, sharp, blinding, and wrong. Walls shook. Wood snapped. Dust screamed off the floorboards as a shockwave slammed outward, scattering crates like matchsticks.
Her head detonated into a red mist. One moment she was grinning, next, gone.
Her body flew backward, headless, carried by the force of the blow. It slammed through the wall behind the bar, crashing through wood and stone like a cannonball.
I stood there.
Breath ragged.
Fist still outstretched, frozen where it had landed.
I couldn't think.
Couldn't move.
Five seconds passed.
Then came the pain.
Like my heart had imploded.
A crushing pressure ripped through my chest. Indomitable hadn't shut off.
My blade clattered to the floor, forgotten in the pain.
I clawed at my chest, dropped to my knees, and fumbled to kill the ability.
Finally—click—the pressure lifted.
But the pain didn't.
I doubled over, coughing, nearly vomiting on the floorboards. My whole body screamed at me. Emilia shouted something, her voice distant, panicked, as she rushed to my side.
My vision blurred into static and spots.
Still, I tried to turn. To see where Elsa had landed.
But the wall of dust from her impact made it impossible.
I couldn't see her.
Couldn't confirm.
So I knelt there, gasping, fists clenched.
And I prayed—
To every god still listening—
that I recovered fast enough…
So I could find the body.
And set that psycho bitch on fire.