The safehouse settled into its deepest security state.
Walls thickened. Signal dampeners layered themselves like skin over bone. Automated turrets slid into recessed housings, dormant but awake. The kind of quiet that followed wasn't peace, it was a held breath.
Aine stood in the observation room, arms crossed, eyes on Fay.
Her sister slept.
Not sedated. Not forced.
Real sleep.
That mattered.
"Host," Sera said softly,
"you've been standing there for eleven minutes."
Aine didn't look away. "Timing."
"For?"
Aine's gaze flicked to the corner of the room, nothing visible there. No movement. No sound.
"First knock."
Sera paused.
Then the perimeter sensors twitched.
The alert didn't scream.
It whispered.
A soft pulse ran through the safehouse's outer grid, just enough to say something brushed us.
Marcus' voice came through the internal channel instantly. "Perimeter alert. Non-automated. They're good."
"How many?" Aine asked.
"Four. Maybe five. No heavy gear."
Aine smiled faintly.
"Assassins."
"Obsidian Veil signature patterns detected," Sera confirmed.
"City A exports its best."
Aine turned from Fay's room at last.
"Lock down medical wing," she ordered. "No exceptions."
Marcus didn't argue. "On it."
Aine rolled her shoulders once. Her injuries protested, then fell quiet under will and adrenaline.
She reached the central corridor just as the lights dimmed.
Not fully.
Just enough to cast long shadows.
"Polite of them," Aine murmured. "They didn't bring an army."
"They're here to measure you," Sera replied.
"Not kill you. Yet..."
Aine stepped forward.
"Wrong test."
The air rippled.
Aine twisted—
Clang!
A blade sparked inches from her throat as she caught it between forearm guard and wrist, torque snapping instantly into place.
She pivoted—
Crack!
Her elbow smashed into the attacker's sternum, lifting him off his feet before he hit the wall—
Thud!
Another came from above.
Aine rolled as a figure dropped—
Bang!
A suppressed shot punched into the floor where her head had been.
She came up inside his guard, seized the gun, and tore it sideways—
Crack!
The wrist gave.
She drove the muzzle under his jaw and fired—
Bang!
Blood painted the ceiling.
The lights flickered.
Three left.
They moved together now, disciplined, silent, coordinated.
One blade. One wire. One short-range firearm.
Aine breathed out.
"Good," she said. "Professionals."
They struck—
Clash!
Steel rang as Aine parried the blade, ducked the wire, and kicked backward—
Boom!
Her heel crushed a knee, dropping one assassin screaming to the floor.
The gunman fired point-blank—
Bang! Bang!
Aine twisted, letting one round tear fabric and skin, the other grazing bone instead of heart. Pain flared—
She welcomed it.
She surged forward and slammed her forehead into his—
Crack!
The man dropped limp.
The last assassin hesitated.
A mistake.
Aine crossed the distance in a blink and seized his throat, lifting him off the ground.
"You should've brought more," she said calmly.
He tried to speak.
She snapped his neck—
Crack!
Silence crashed down.
Aine stood amid bodies, chest rising steadily, blood dripping from her fingers onto the floor in slow, deliberate taps.
"Host," Sera said, satisfied,
"no further hostile signatures detected."
Marcus arrived seconds later, weapon still raised. He took in the scene without comment.
"Obsidian Veil," he said. "City A really is watching."
Aine wiped her hands on a fallen coat.
"They knocked," she said. "I answered."
She crouched beside the first assassin she'd incapacitated, the one still barely breathing. His eyes fluttered, unfocused but alive.
Aine leaned in.
"Go back," she said softly. "Tell them this."
She pressed two fingers lightly against his chest, just above the heart.
"Next time, bring an army."
She struck once—
Crack!
His eyes rolled back as consciousness fled.
Aine rose.
Ding!
The sound rang sharper than usual.
[System Notification]
Trial Triggered: Silent Pressure
Condition: Survive escalating hostile probes without exposure
Duration: Unknown
Reward: Variable
Failure Penalty: Catastrophic
Aine didn't blink.
"…So that's how you want to play it," she murmured.
"Host," Sera said, voice low but excited,
"this isn't a task. It's a stress test."
Aine looked back toward Fay's sealed room.
Her sister slept on, unaware of the blood spilled meters away.
Aine turned, eyes cold and steady.
"Then let's see how much pressure the world can apply," she said,
"before it snaps."
Somewhere far away, in quiet rooms and darker halls, powerful people felt a chill they couldn't explain.
They had knocked on the Princess' door.
And learned—
she answers personally.
The bodies were cleared in under three minutes.
Crimson efficiency left no blood trails, no loose ends, only a faint metallic scent scrubbed into nothing by sterilization foam. The corridor returned to quiet, but it was a different kind now. Not calm.
Alert.
Aine watched from the threshold as the last panel slid back into place—
Clang.
"Perimeter?" she asked.
Marcus checked his tablet. "Clean. But they didn't come blind. Someone mapped our outer layers."
Aine nodded once. "Then someone paid well."
"Host," Sera added,
"probability clusters indicate follow-up probes within the next forty-eight hours. Different styles. Different motives."
"Good," Aine replied. "I like variety."
She turned and walked back toward Fay's wing. The doors recognized her instantly, opening without delay. Inside, the hum of machines was steady, unchanged. Fay slept on, lashes resting against pale cheeks, breath finally deep enough to count as safe.
Aine stopped beside the bed.
She didn't touch Fay this time.
She simply stood there, presence anchoring the room.
"They came because of you," Aine said quietly—not to Fay, but to the world that had begun circling. "And they'll keep coming."
"You could relocate," Sera suggested.
"Reduce exposure. Reset pressure."
Aine shook her head.
"No."
She turned away from the bed, eyes hardening.
"I don't retreat with her," she said. "I make the ground around her unlivable."
Sera paused, then her tone warmed, edged with approval.
"Acknowledged."
Outside the room, Marcus waited. "Orders?"
Aine didn't hesitate.
"Leak controlled footage," she said. "Just enough. Make it clear the Veil knocked first—and didn't leave."
Marcus's eyes sharpened. "That'll escalate."
"Yes," Aine replied. "On my terms."
She took two steps, then stopped.
"And Marcus?"
"Yes."
"Next time they knock," Aine said calmly,
"I want them to hear the door open."
Marcus smiled thinly. "Understood."
The lights dimmed slightly as the safehouse shifted into a new operational state, active deterrence. Turrets armed. Counter-intrusion systems woke fully. Somewhere deep in the structure, steel locked into steel.
Clang.
Ding!
[Trial: Silent Pressure — Ongoing]
Status: Host Stable
Pressure Level: Rising
Aine looked once more at the sealed medical wing, then turned her back on it—not in abandonment, but in promise.
"Come," she said softly, stepping into the corridor.
"I'm ready."
And far beyond the safehouse, whispers spread, through martial halls, corporate towers, and shadow markets alike.
The Princess had answered the knock.
The door, it seemed, would not be closing anytime soon.