Clang—
"Cough…"
Texas forced herself to repel another attacker, blood spilling from the corner of her mouth. Her entire body was now stained and slick with blood.
Fifteen.
From the instant Istina's message arrived—when her enemies momentarily lost focus—to now, Texas had only just managed to put down fifteen of them.
The people surrounding her were not some ragtag gang.
They were a real fighting force—a trained unit with battlefield experience.
Against Texas's wind-fast slashes, they reacted instantly, blocking with ease. Some even countered in coordinated timing—blades and arrows at once, sealing off every path she might use to evade.
An arrowhead was still lodged in her shoulder.
Cuts and gashes covered her arms, abdomen, and back.
Texas no longer looked anything like her usual composed self—except for that expressionless face, cold as ever.
"I misjudged you," the blond Feline woman said, sizing Texas up. "I didn't expect you to be this hard to kill."
She seized a weapon from one of her subordinates and lifted it, voice turning thoughtful as if the name had finally clicked.
"Texas… Texas… I remember now."
"You're the lone surviving seed of that Columbian Texas family, aren't you?"
She exhaled, almost amused.
"How ironic. Your situation mirrors mine—yet we chose completely opposite paths."
"I chose revenge."
"And you… you sank into the gentleness of Lungmen and let yourself rot in comfort."
Tap. Tap.
Her crisp footsteps echoed through the bright, open warehouse as she approached without a hint of fear, ignoring Texas's bone-chilling stare.
The long sword in her hand leveled toward Texas, who was clutching an arm that continued to seep blood.
"I am Taran Goldas—the last descendant of the Goldas family, preserved from the age of Atraeas."
"I challenge you."
"Descendant of the Texas family."
"Whether you want it or not, our duel began the moment I finished speaking."
The moment her words fell—
Boom!
Taran stomped, shattering the ground.
She surged forward like a storm—momentum carrying a terrifying gust as she slammed into Texas's space.
So fast.
Texas, already badly wounded, grit her teeth and lifted her light-sword to block.
When steel met light, sparks exploded—briefly illuminating the two faces inches apart.
Texas's boots skidded backward uncontrollably, kicking up thick dust.
She's strong.
Even at full health, Texas couldn't claim she'd win with certainty against a Victoria noble's bloodline.
"If this is all you've got," Taran said, "then you're dying here tonight."
Her right foot stepped in.
Her sword arm drove harder.
The pressure blew Texas off balance—hurling her into the air.
Texas tried to adjust midair—
But through blood-blurred vision, she saw Taran's figure blot out the lights above, calm and perfectly poised.
"You've lived too comfortably for too long, Texas."
"How long has it been since you fought someone who could truly match you?"
Taran twisted at the waist, powering her long leg—
And drove a brutal kick straight into Texas's abdomen.
Boom—!
The gray wolf slammed down, dust erupting.
She crashed into a crater of cracked flooring and debris, her body briefly trapped in the broken ground.
No… I can't generate force…
Texas tried to rise, but her limbs responded with nothing but weakness—like livestock waiting for slaughter.
Outside the warehouse, the sound of gunfire gradually died out.
"Maybe you'll call me vile," Taran said as she walked around Texas's fallen form. "Maybe you'll say it's shameless—dueling you while you're injured, making it unfair."
She casually discarded the long sword to the side.
"But I'm not you, Texas."
"I still have a mission."
"I still have to slaughter those demon-blooded bastards to the last."
"Before that, I won't take any risk that threatens my life."
With that, she bent down and clamped one hand around Texas's neck—then lifted her high overhead, displaying her battered state for everyone to see.
"Hhk—!"
Texas remained silent.
Even now, on the edge of death, she was still searching for a way out.
Her only hope was the fallen sword hilt beneath her—
But—
Her breathing was failing.
Even trying to pry Taran's fingers loose felt weak and pointless.
Everything in her vision turned red, then blurred further.
"You'll become our skin," Taran said coldly. "The Grease Gang will gain a new trophy to terrify the rats. Your corpse will be hung on our banner, to become—"
"Miss, an incident."
Taran turned sharply, displeased, staring at the subordinate who was sweating through her gear.
"Can't you see what I'm doing?"
"I'm very sorry, Miss," the woman said urgently. "But someone else has broken in from outside."
Taran glanced toward the window—firelight raging, turning the night into harsh brightness—and dismissed it.
"Our people at the front gate have enough numbers and firepower to fight the LGD head-on. Kill the intruder. Don't report this to me again."
But the mercenary's urgency only intensified.
"It's not like before, Miss! That person is almost at the entrance!"
"…What?"
That was impossible.
Her front-gate defense was built to hold a small defensive battle.
With clear irritation, she threw the near-unconscious Texas to the ground like trash, drew the blade at her waist, and moved toward the heavy door to meet the intruder herself.
Could it be the Lungmen Governor personally sending elites?
No.
They weren't important enough to appear on that man's radar.
So who?
Who had the ability?
Wait—could it be the LGD—
Click.
All the lights cut out at once.
Darkness fell hard and sudden.
Everyone turned, weapons up, staring at the massive steel gate.
Outside, screams echoed.
And flames roared high enough to paint the windows.
Breathing began to rise—somewhere, then everywhere—until the entire warehouse seemed filled with harsh, panicked respiration.
Taran realized something was wrong.
Fear?
No.
Her soldiers had lived through real war. They didn't fear an unknown enemy.
So what was it?
Szzzt—
Heat.
As if a giant flamethrower were roasting the entrance from the other side, the steel gate—installed at great expense—was melting.
The rising temperature forced sweat from every body. Breathing became heavier, faster, worse.
The gate collapsed into a puddle of molten metal, releasing white-hot steam.
Taran's exquisitely crafted sword moved slowly in her grip, the blade throwing off a frightening cold gleam in the firelight.
"Heh. So the LGD's dog really is something else."
Only when two silhouettes appeared did she lift her proud gaze to study the intruders—standing against a backdrop of towering flames.
A Sankta?
Not worth worrying about. Laterano guns wouldn't make her kneel.
But the other one—
A man.
A—
Taran's half-lidded eyes snapped wide open.
The sword in her hand began to tremble.
"No… impossible. How can this be…"
"Texas!"
-------
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