The first man lunged for Flynn.
Rosie moved before the blade even finished rising.
She crossed the distance in a blur — too fast for the eye to follow — and caught the attacker's wrist mid-swing. Her fingers brushed his skin for less than a second.
Decay spread instantly.
The man screamed as blackened cracks crawled across his forearm. Flesh crumbled like burnt paper. He stumbled backward, clutching the collapsing limb.
The other three men hesitated.
That was their mistake.
Rosie stepped forward, calm but alert, shoulders loose, eyes sharp. A thin blade formed in her hand — metal growing out of nothing, shaping itself in a breath.
Behind her, Flynn retreated carefully.
"Stay behind us," Bretta said, already advancing toward the fourth man.
He charged her with a heavy cleaver. Bretta met him head-on.
Steel clashed.
Bretta's strength showed immediately. She blocked the cleaver with both hands on her weapon and twisted, redirecting the force. The attacker staggered sideways, surprised by her balance.
Rosie didn't look back. Three opponents were already circling her.
One came low. One came fast. One stayed behind, waiting.
Good. Smarter than most.
The fast one attacked first.
Rosie bent backward with impossible flexibility, the blade missing her face by inches. She spun on one foot and drove her heel into his ribs.
The impact sounded like cracking wood.
He flew sideways into a broken wall.
The low attacker tried to grab her leg.
Rosie jumped — not high, but quick — and a spear formed in her hand mid-air. She drove it downward.
It pierced his shoulder.
Decay spread from the wound like ink in water.
He howled and tore himself free, leaving part of the spear embedded as his skin blackened around it.
The third attacker finally moved.
He was careful.
He threw a chain weapon toward Flynn instead.
"Flynn!" Bretta shouted.
Rosie vanished.
She reappeared between Flynn and the chain just as it struck. A translucent shield flashed into existence. The chain slammed against it with a metallic crack and fell uselessly.
Flynn exhaled sharply and stepped back again, eyes scanning for danger.
"Thank you," he muttered.
Rosie didn't answer.
The careful attacker frowned. He now understood the problem — getting past her was impossible.
Bretta, meanwhile, drove her opponent backward with raw force. She slammed her shoulder into his chest, forcing him against a pillar. Dust rained down as stone cracked behind him.
He swung wildly.
Bretta ducked and punched his ribs.
The air left his lungs in a violent gasp.
Back with Rosie, the fast attacker recovered and rushed her again, desperate now.
She let him come.
At the last moment, she stepped inside his guard and touched his chest with her palm.
Decay bloomed outward.
His charge collapsed instantly as his strength vanished beneath him.
The low attacker tried one final strike from behind.
Rosie spun, forming a short blade, and slashed across his thigh.
Decay spread faster this time.
He fell.
Only the careful attacker remained.
He looked at Bretta. Then Rosie. Then Flynn.
He ran.
Rosie didn't chase.
The battlefield went quiet except for heavy breathing and the distant crumble of decayed flesh turning to dust.
Bretta lowered her weapon slowly.
Flynn straightened up. "That… was terrifying."
Rosie let the blade in her hand dissolve into nothing.
Her voice was calm.
"Are you both okay?"
"Yes. We are," they both answered, their voices steady but cautious.
Flynn's hands trembled slightly. His chest still ached from adrenaline. This was the first real fight he had ever witnessed, and the sight… the sight of bodies decaying while still alive… it clung to him, a horrifying memory he couldn't shake.
"What… was that?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Rosie stepped closer, her gaze softening. She could see the fear etched on his face, the way his eyes darted around the wrecked room, trying to make sense of the chaos.
"It's okay," she said gently, lifting her hand to touch his cheek. Her fingers were warm, grounding him. "My power comes from the God of Combat. I can create any weapon I want, and my strength, speed, and reflexes are far beyond normal."
Flynn swallowed hard, blinking rapidly.
"What about… that?" he asked, pointing to the small pile of gray dust on the tiles — what had once been part of one of the attackers' bodies.
"That's decay," Rosie explained. "My ring allows me to decay anything I touch — flesh, bone, even weapons. A brush of my hand, a strike from my blade… it's enough."
Flynn's pulse quickened as he looked at her, the implications settling in. If she were an enemy… if she were trying to kill him… he wouldn't even stand a chance. Relief washed over him that she was on his side.
Bretta leaned casually against the cracked wall, her voice low and matter-of-fact. "When she grows stronger, just a thought… can make people decay."
Rosie smiled, a hint of mischief in her eyes. "Yes. That's true."
Flynn didn't respond. He felt numb, as if his mind were still catching up. The unusual had become normal far too quickly.
Rosie bent down and lifted a chair that had been knocked over during the fight. It scraped across the floor as she positioned it and sat, her movements effortless. She looked like nothing had happened, though the room around them was in ruins.
Flynn's eyes took in the devastation: broken cups, splintered tables, shattered ceramics. Dust drifted lazily in the beams of light through the cracked windows. Even the walls had deep cracks from the sheer force of the combat.
He shivered. The fight had been devastating — yet controlled. He began to wonder if Rosie had even been holding back.
"So," Rosie said, resting her elbow on the chair's armrest, "what do you plan to do now?"
Flynn exhaled, heavy with exhaustion and grief. His shoulders slumped. "My best friend… he stole this ring and gave it to me. They… they were all killed. My parents… gone."
He swallowed, his hands clenching into fists. "I want to find out who did it. I think I know why, but I need to know for sure."
Bretta glanced at Rosie. Rosie gave a small nod, almost imperceptible, like giving Bretta permission to speak.
"Your parents worshiped the God of Wealth," Bretta said, her tone calm but firm. "Everyone knows her. She's the only one whose name can be spoken without consequences. Her name… is Freya."
Flynn's eyes widened, but this time his shock was tempered, slower, more measured.
"You should start there," Bretta continued. "Freya has something to do with what happened. Pay attention. Observe first, act later."
"I can't… fight a god," Flynn said, confusion and fear lacing his voice.
"You're not fighting a god," Rosie replied, her tone steady, almost maternal. "You're investigating. You need to find out who actually carried out the mission, and why. The first step… is sneaking into her church."
Flynn swallowed hard. "A church?"
"Yes," Rosie said. "Every god has a temple or church where their followers pray. The Church of Wealth is no different. If you pose as a priest, you can observe without raising suspicion. Be careful. Plan your steps. And… be ready."
Flynn's shoulders sagged under the weight of this new reality. "I don't want to trouble you again. You've already done so much for me…"
Bretta stepped closer, draping a hand over his shoulder. "We're always here for you, Flynn. You're not alone in this."
Rosie rose from the chair, walking closer to them. "A tip," she said, her eyes locking on him. "Those five rings — including yours — belonged to an ancient god who vanished long ago. No one knows why or what happened. His name… was Cosmos."
Flynn's gaze fell to the ring on his finger.
"He's a fallen god," Rosie continued. "We can speak his name without fear. Remember it."
She held up a small key, pulling it from her purse. "Stay here in the brothel for now. You'll have a room. Use this time to awaken your powers. Train. Learn. Your pursuers will be cautious for a while, but only for now."
Flynn took the key, his hands shaking slightly. He bowed, voice thick with gratitude. "Thank you, Rosie. I… I really appreciate this."
"Your room is to the left, after the corridor," Rosie said simply.
Flynn nodded and walked toward his new quarters, heart heavy but determined.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Rosie turned sharply to Bretta. "Protect him from afar. Illusions, clones… anything that keeps him safe."
Bretta nodded. "I'll do my best. I just hope he eventually joins us fully."
Rosie exhaled, lying down on the wrecked bed. Her eyes tracked the cracks on the ceiling. "I hope so too," she murmured.
For the first time since the fight, the room was quiet. And for the first time, Rosie allowed herself a brief moment of rest, knowing the real battles — for Flynn, and for them all — were only just beginning.