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With every step I took, the cave seemed to sink even deeper into its own darkness. Even with my newly sharpened vision, there were pockets of blackness that not even my eyes could pierce. Maybe it was just a matter of adaptation; if I spent a few hours inside, I'd probably be seeing as clearly as daylight.
After finding Alice so close to the entrance, I continued forward, alert to every sound, scent, and irregularity along the walls. If the goblins had begun imprisoning their victims, as it seemed, then there was a good chance I'd find other survivors.
I walked for long minutes.
The cave was far more vast than I had imagined. Each turn revealed crude wooden cells, rudimentary furniture, rotting ropes… but all of them were empty, silent, dead.
Perhaps I was wrong about there being more prisoners, which, honestly, would be the best possible outcome.
It was while my thoughts wandered that I noticed it.
In the distance, something shimmered.
A faint light, almost illusory, like a tiny silver point lost within the darkness.
I narrowed my eyes, trying to discern it
fwoosh
!!!
The sharp sound of projectiles tearing through the air came straight at me.
Before I could even think, my body reacted.
Snow Maiden burst from her sheath like a bolt of lightning.
swoosh — plim — plim
Two arrows struck the blade just millimeters from my face, throwing sparks that briefly illuminated the cave. The impact forced me a step backward.
But before I could recover my stance, a third arrow came flying in. I didn't have time to raise my sword.
My only option was to move my head at the very last instant. The tip grazed my cheek, leaving behind a thin, hot cut.
— Ricardo, now!!
A female voice echoed from the darkness, coming from the same direction as the arrows.
And then, at my side, a figure leapt from the shadows.
I couldn't make out his face, his hair, or even his height with any clarity. All I could see was the silhouette of a man holding a sword.
And that sword came crashing down on me with ferocious speed.
I adjusted my katana and raised it just in time to block the strike.
swoosh — CRASH — sparks danced through the air.
The man pressed forward with an impeccable sequence, heavy and well-aimed strikes. But every blow ricocheted cleanly off my blade.
plim — plim — plim
At the end of the sequence, he lunged with a front kick aimed at my solar plexus.
I blocked with the side of my sword, but even so, I was thrown back nearly a meter. The blow broke my guard for an instant. In a normal duel, that wouldn't have been an issue, since he was also at the end of his motion.
But then he shouted:
— Vanessa, go!
fwooosh
A volley of arrows burst from the darkness like deadly rain.
From my position, it was impossible to block everything or dodge sideways. So I followed the force of the impact that had already thrown me back.
I hurled my body to the ground at the exact moment another arrow sliced through the space where my head had been a second earlier, cutting off a lock of my hair.
I rolled backward and sprang to my feet in one fluid motion.
Two more arrows came immediately after.
My blade was already ready.
plim — plim
Two clean strikes, two arrows deflected.
I recovered my stance, breathing deeply, but I didn't even have time to blink.
The male figure attacked again without hesitation.
"They're good…"
The two people I was fighting genuinely knew what they were doing. Their synchronization was flawless, almost choreographed.
Every strike from the man was followed by the whistle of an arrow, and every arrow came at the exact moment his sword forced me to open my guard. It was constant pressure, suffocating… for anyone who wasn't me.
Even in the near-total darkness, they moved with remarkable efficiency.
The archer, likely seeing nothing more than my silhouette, fired with impressive precision. Without perfectly timed blocks, those arrows would have buried themselves straight into my skull.
The swordsman, while only moderately skilled, compensated for every technical flaw with brute force and devastating impacts.
plim — plim — plim
I blocked yet another sequence, sparks ricocheting across the damp stone walls.
But even so…
They can't beat me.
Unable to detect mana, I could only estimate their level by physique and combat experience.
Maybe… D+? No. Closer to F-. Which meant: impressive compared to the average adventurer, but completely out of my current league.
As I defended myself, my mind wandered to the reason behind their attack, which now seemed obvious.
They were in enemy territory.
And when a figure crawls out of the darkness of a goblin cave… attacking first is the most logical choice.
On top of that, I literally hadn't said a single word yet, which only made things worse.
But it was time to end this.
After blocking another wave of attacks, I stepped back, planted my feet, and let my breathing flow, hot, rhythmic, precise.
— Flame Breathing — Second Form: Nobori Enten (Rising Scorching Sun).
FWOOOOSH
The blade traced a circular arc, and golden flames rose like a solar wheel, flooding the entire cave with searing light.
I didn't aim for the man on purpose, instead using the motion to split the next arrow flying toward me clean in half.
For the first time, the environment was fully revealed: the uneven walls, the stone floor, and the two figures before me, now bathed in light that devoured the darkness.
Their eyes widened at the same time.
— W-what? A kid?!
They spoke in unison, shock clearly written across their now-visible faces.
Even after the attack, my katana continued to burn. Steady flames wrapped around the blade as if they were part of it. The sword became a living torch, completely illuminating the cave.
And by that firelight, I was finally able to clearly see the pair who had attacked me.
Closer to me, now fully exposed by the flames, stood a man with a sturdy yet exhausted appearance. He looked to be between thirty and forty years old, messy brown hair falling over an unshaven face.
His sunken, weary eyes contrasted with the tattered clothes hanging loosely from his body. In his hands, he gripped a primitive, crude, curved blade made of polished bone.
Farther back, the archer finally stepped out of the shadows. She seemed to be around the same age as him. Long, dark red hair, tangled and unkempt; dry lips; dull green eyes devoid of shine.
Her torn dress made both the wear and the precariousness of her situation painfully clear. In her trembling fingers, an equally rudimentary bow, paired with poorly made arrows.
The two stared at me without blinking, confused, tense, still trying to process what had just happened.
But at least, for now, the attack had stopped.
I kept my usual lazy expression, raised one hand in a casual greeting, and spoke in a drawn-out voice, as if none of this were out of the ordinary.
— Hey, what's up…
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