The entrance to the underground tunnel loomed before them, a gaping maw of darkness framed by old stonework and rusted metal reinforcements. The air around it was thick with the scent of damp earth and something faintly metallic, like rusted iron. A faint breeze whispered from within, carrying a strange, lingering energy.

Standing in front of the entrance, the Kopflos—Jelle, Hauke, Uwe, and Liselotte—watched as the last of their hired help gathered. Geschicht and Harriet stood nearby, ready but alert. Among them, two newcomers lingered at the edge of the group: a broad-shouldered man with a thick beard and a wiry young man with sharp, calculating eyes.

Jelle, arms crossed, glanced at Geschicht and Harriet. “You two were the last ones to sign up,” she said. “After you, only two others joined.”

She gestured toward the unfamiliar men. “That’s them.”

The older one, Adrek, let out a deep chuckle, resting a hand on the hilt of one of the two massive Montante swords strapped to his back. The weapons were nearly as long as he was tall, their hilts worn from years of use. He carried them with an ease that suggested terrifying familiarity. "Figured an opportunity like this was too interesting to pass up."

Veynor, the younger of the two, smiled faintly. "Underground ruins are always full of surprises. Thought we’d try our luck."

Harriet glanced between them, then leaned toward Geschicht. "They seem… weird," he muttered under his breath.

Geschicht didn’t reply right away. He tapped his fingers against the leather of his journal, carefully observing the two men. Something felt off, but he couldn't place it yet. Instead, he turned back to Jelle. "So, what now?"

Jelle stretched her arms. "Now? We head inside."

With that, she strode forward, leading them all into the depths of the city’s underground.

As they prepared to descend into the underground, Jelle leaned slightly toward Uwe and muttered under her breath, just loud enough for him to hear, "Keep an eye on the strangers."

Uwe gave a grin, and his lone red eye glowed faintly in the dim light as he turned his gaze toward Adrek and Veynor. A subtle flicker of energy passed through his iris, scanning them with silent scrutiny.

Adrek adjusted the straps of his twin Montante swords, seemingly unbothered, while Veynor simply smirked, hands tucked casually into his coat pockets. Neither of them reacted to Uwe’s glowing eye—whether out of ignorance or sheer confidence was unclear.

Satisfied, Jelle turned back toward the tunnel. "Alright, let's move."

With that, the group stepped forward, swallowed by the shadows of the ancient underground.

As they walked for a while, the tunnel stretched before them in eerie silence, the damp air thick with the scent of earth and age-old stone. Then, Jelle came to a sudden stop, causing the others to pause behind her.

"This is far enough for us to cause any ruckus to the city above," she said, rolling her shoulders.

With a slow, deliberate motion, she raised her hand into the air. Instantly, the tunnel trembled. Thick roots slithered through the cracks in the stone, converging toward her palm as if drawn by an unseen force. The roots twisted, merged, and hardened, forming a long, elegant wooden sword in her grasp. Though made of wood, the air around it pulsed with undeniable power.

Then, without hesitation, Jelle swung the blade downward.

The ground beneath them split apart with a violent crack, shattering into chunks as the tunnel caved beneath their feet. In an instant, gravity seized them all.

"Going this way is faster than following the rules set by the old ones," Jelle said with an amused smirk as they plummeted.

Hauke let out a resigned sigh, clearly used to her antics.

Uwe, on the other hand, grinned wildly. "Now, this is how you make an entrance!"

Liselotte let out a panicked yelp, instinctively reaching for something to hold onto, but there was nothing to grab in freefall.

As for the two strangers—Adrek remained eerily calm, adjusting his posture midair, while Veynor’s smirk deepened as if he had expected nothing less.

The darkness below rushed up to meet them.

The ground gave way beneath them, and in an instant, Geschicht and Harriet were free-falling alongside the Kopflos, plunging deeper into the underground ruin. Dust and fragments of stone rushed past them as cold, damp air roared in their ears.

“Jelle!” Geschicht shouted, his voice half-lost in the descent. “This is your idea of faster?”

Jelle, seemingly unfazed, was falling with perfect composure, the wooden sword still firm in her hand, her emerald eyes calm as if this were routine.

Hauke sighed mid-air, adjusting his body as though this wasn’t the first time he’d been dropped into an unknown abyss by his leader’s impatience.

Uwe, of course, was whooping with exhilaration. “This is amazing!”

Liselotte, however, was not having a great time. She flailed helplessly, her terrified scream echoing as she tumbled. “W-We’re going to die!”

But just as the jagged floor below rushed toward them, Harriet’s golden eyes sharpened. Without a word, his unseen spectral hands shot out around the group, reaching out as if to cup the air itself.

The invisible force slowed their descent dramatically, like they’d been caught in a giant, unseen net. What should have been a bone-shattering landing turned into something graceful—smooth, controlled, and almost gentle.

They touched down on the cold stone floor as though they’d simply stepped off a short ledge.

“Whoa…” Liselotte blinked, panting, her hands still gripping her sleeves.

Uwe grinned, wide-eyed. “That was awesome!”

Hauke gave Harriet a quick, approving glance, muttering, “Handy trick.”

Harriet smirked, brushing imaginary dust from his coat. “You get used to it.”

Geschicht shot him a sideways look. “Now you use your power?”

Harriet grinned lazily. “What, and ruin all the fun?”

Jelle, landing with effortless grace, lowered her sword and glanced around the new chamber they’d fallen into, the air thick with ancient magic.

“Well, that was efficient,” she said with a smirk. “Now, let’s see what the ruins want to show us.”

As the dust settled, they stood in the heart of the deeper underground—a place untouched by daylight, humming with unseen power. And the only way forward was deeper still.

As they landed, the tremor from their fall sent deep reverberations through the ancient ruin. Dust swirled around them, and the distant sound of cracking stone echoed through the cavernous underground.

Then, the walls pulsed with a faint glow, ancient runes flickering to life in jagged patterns across the floor and pillars. A deep, guttural groan rumbled from the darkness as something massive stirred awake.

Crack.

A split ran through the stone floor.

Crack! Crack!

One by one, towering figures rose from their long slumber.

Hundreds of stone golems, each the size of a small house, emerged from the shadows. Their once-majestic forms, covered in glowing sigils, now twitched and jerked unnaturally, their cores overloaded with unstable magic. Their hollow eyes flared with a corrupted glow, and their bodies creaked as if resisting the very energy keeping them alive.

Hauke clicked his tongue, rolling his shoulders.

Jelle spun her wooden sword in her hand, its form humming with energy. “This ruin must’ve been untouched for centuries. The magic down here is completely out of control.” She grinned. “Perfect warm-up.”

Uwe’s red eye gleamed as he cracked his neck. “Oh? I was hoping for a challenge.”

Liselotte tightened her hold on the small bundle in her arms, stepping forward without hesitation. “Let’s hope my little bunnies know how to set stones on fire.”

Geschicht let out a slow exhale, flipping open his journal. "So, who wants the honor of the first move?"

Harriet grinned, his unseen hands materializing in a flickering wave of force. "We could always let them make the first move. You know, for fairness."

Adrek, gripping his two montante swords, let out a dark chuckle. “Fools, all of you. But I like it.”

Veynor smirked, cracking his knuckles. "This will be over before it even starts."

As if in response to their confidence, the closest golem let out a thunderous roar, shaking the cavern. Magic traps began to activate—flames burst from hidden vents, arcs of lightning crackled across the floor, and slicing gusts of wind tore through the air.

Jelle lifted her sword, eyes shining. "Alright then. Let’s break through."

The crew stood firm, unshaken. No hesitation. No fear.

Just the thrill of battle ahead.

Jelle took the lead, raising her wooden sword high before delivering a single, devastating slash. The force of her strike tore through several golems at once, reducing them to rubble in an instant.

As the battle began, the wind swirled fiercely around Hauke as he unsheathed his sword, charging forward with sharp precision. He cut through one golem with ease, then swiftly turned to strike down another.

Uwe followed right after, sprinting toward a golem with a wild grin. His fist crashed into the stone creature, shattering it into pieces with sheer brute force.

Liselotte, standing firm amidst the chaos, carefully unwrapped her bundle, revealing tiny flaming rabbits that leapt forward eagerly. They swarmed the golems, their fiery bodies melting stone until nothing remained but molten puddles.

Geschicht, gripping his journal tightly, summoned his sword from its pages. He and Harriet moved in sync, fighting side by side—Geschicht slashing through enemies while Harriet’s unseen hands crushed and tore apart the advancing golems within his five-meter range.

Adrek, wielding both of his massive montante swords, stormed into battle with a relentless fury. Each swing of his blades sent golems crumbling to the ground, their heavy stone limbs scattering across the floor.

Veynor ran alongside him, but rather than relying on a weapon, he clenched his fist and delivered a crushing blow to an approaching golem, cracking its stone face before finishing it off with another powerful strike.

The entire crew fought with unwavering confidence, cutting through the horde of mindless golems as if they were nothing more than obstacles in their path.

Jelle’s focus intensified as she swung her wooden sword again, each movement sharp and precise. With a series of swift, calculated slashes, she tore through the ranks of the golems, cutting down hundreds in mere moments. The sheer power in her strikes sent shockwaves through the ground, crumbling stone and turning the once-unstoppable creatures into nothing more than shattered remnants.

She moved with the fluidity of a seasoned warrior, every slash efficient and devastating. Each time her blade met its mark, it cleaved through stone with a resounding crack, reducing the golems to rubble before they could even react. The tunnel filled with the sounds of shattering stone as Jelle’s ferocity became a blur of motion, a whirlwind of destruction that left the golems no chance to regroup.

Adrek, his dual swords still dripping with the remnants of shattered golems, looked at Jelle with a mix of awe and respect.

"What a fearsome woman," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else, though his voice carried across the battlefield. His tone wasn’t one of mockery or disdain, but genuine admiration for the display of power before him.

Veynor, who had been beside him, raising his fist to crush another golem, glanced over at Adrek and gave a half-hearted smirk. "You’re not wrong. Something is terrifying about her." His words were laced with a hint of envy, his strikes not as fast nor as destructive.

Liselotte, who had summoned her fire bunnies to melt the remains of other golems, glanced toward the duo with a soft chuckle. "She does have a way of making it look easy, doesn’t she?"

Hauke, not far behind, raised an eyebrow at the scene but said nothing, his focus on cutting through the remaining golems, his sword cutting through the air in controlled arcs. "She doesn’t stop," he remarked, his voice calm but carrying a quiet respect for the woman leading their charge. "Not until every last one of them is dust."

Harriet, standing near Geschicht as they fought together, gave a grin, his spectral hands manifesting to dismantle a golem’s arm. "She's like a force of nature," he commented, flashing Geschicht a quick smile. "You can’t help but watch and admire it."

Geschicht couldn’t help but agree. His sword cut through another golem’s chest, and he stepped back to catch his breath. "It’s not just power. It’s the way she uses it," he said, his voice tinged with awe. "There’s precision behind all that strength. It’s… impressive."

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

As the golem’s final remains turned to dust around them, Jelle lowered her sword, standing tall amidst the battlefield of crumbled stone and rubble. Her expression was calm, though a faint smile tugged at the corners of her lips, as if she had expected nothing less from herself.

"Shall we continue?" she asked, looking over her shoulder at the group.

Without missing a beat, Adrek’s voice rang out. "Lead the way."

Jelle turned to Uwe, her eyes sharp as she scanned the surrounding tunnels, still on high alert. “Uwe, go scout ahead. Make sure the path is clear and that no more surprises are lurking in the shadows.”

Uwe gave a swift nod, his red eye glowing faintly in the dim light. Without a word, he turned and began to move silently, his steps almost imperceptible as he melded with the shadows. His presence was ghostly, always on the lookout for any danger.

But before he could get too far, Veynor, who had been quietly observing the surroundings, stepped forward with a glint in his eye. "I’ll go with him," Veynor said, his voice calm but carrying an edge of impatience. "Better to cover more ground. Besides, I know how to handle myself in these tunnels." His tone wasn’t exactly a request, but more of a statement, as if he had already made up his mind.

Uwe paused for a moment, looking back over his shoulder. His red eyes briefly met Veynor’s, sizing him up. After a beat, he gave a slight nod, acknowledging the offer. "Fine, but stay out of my way," he muttered, though there was a hint of approval in his words.

Jelle looked at both of them, her expression unreadable, before she gave a simple command. "Just don’t get in trouble. We’ll keep moving forward, but if there’s anything out of place, we’ll need to know about it."

With that, Uwe and Veynor slipped into the darkened tunnel ahead, moving as one. The faint sound of their footsteps echoed off the stone walls as they disappeared from view, their figures melding with the shadows.

The rest of the group remained where they were, silently awaiting the scouts' return, ready to continue their exploration into the depths of the underground ruin.

Geschicht, his eyes scanning the ancient inscriptions etched into the walls, felt a sense of intrigue bubbling within him. The symbols were unlike anything he had ever encountered before—twisting lines, strange glyphs, and an unfamiliar rhythm that almost seemed to pulse with life. It was as if the language itself was meant to convey a message, but one he couldn’t quite decipher. He leaned in closer, tracing his fingers lightly along the markings, feeling a strange pull as if the walls themselves were trying to whisper to him.

As he focused on the etchings, a soft, hesitant voice broke through his concentration. "The eye’s here... the piece of art... it’s... old..." Liselotte murmured, stepping toward him with a delicate, shy grace. She was barely above a whisper, her words quiet as though she didn’t want to disturb the solemn air of the tunnel.

Geschicht turned slightly to face her, surprised by the sudden closeness. Liselotte, normally so reserved, seemed almost hesitant as she stood beside him, her gaze flickering nervously between the wall and him. Her cheeks flushed ever so slightly, betraying her usual calm demeanor.

"Do you mean the eyes in the symbols?" Geschicht asked, his voice soft with curiosity. He hadn’t noticed anything about eyes in the inscriptions, but Liselotte’s intuition was sharp, and he trusted her judgment.

She nodded slowly, still speaking in that quiet, almost uncertain tone. "Yes, the eye... it watches... the art... it’s... connected." She pointed at a section of the wall where a large, intricate symbol of an eye seemed to merge with the surrounding patterns. It was almost as if the eye itself was alive, watching everything around it.

Geschicht squinted, trying to make sense of her words and the strange design. There was something deeply unsettling about the way the markings shifted in the dim light, as if they were aware of their surroundings, waiting for something—or someone—to react.

Liselotte took a small step back, a nervous glance cast toward the group. "It’s... the art of the forgotten," she added softly. "It’s ancient, something that should be lost to time."

Geschicht gave her a reassuring smile, though his curiosity was only growing. "Do you think it means something? Could it be connected to the ruin we’re exploring?"

Liselotte’s eyes darted around briefly, before she nodded once more, her expression thoughtful. "Maybe... but it’s dangerous to linger too long on things like this. They... remember things we don’t."

Geschicht could sense her unease but didn’t press her further. The mysterious symbols had a power about them, one that neither of them fully understood, but for now, he decided to focus on the task at hand. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the walls themselves held secrets—secrets that, if uncovered, might change everything they thought they knew about this place.

"Let’s keep moving," he said, trying to put Liselotte at ease.

A while had passed, yet there was no sign of Uwe or Veynor returning. The air in the underground ruin grew heavier with each passing second, the distant echoes of shifting stone the only sounds filling the silence. The group, which had been standing on alert, slowly tensed as an unspoken unease crept in.

Jelle’s sharp eyes flickered toward Adrek and narrowed. She exhaled slowly, then called out in a steady, measured tone.

“Hauke.”

Without hesitation, Hauke reacted to the unspoken command. His grip tightened around his sword, and in a swift motion, he raised the blade to Adrek’s neck, the cold steel pressing against the man's skin. The tension in the air became suffocating.

Adrek barely flinched. His expression remained eerily calm, only the faintest hint of amusement flashing in his eyes. Beside him, Veynor tensed but did not move, his eyes darting between Hauke and Jelle, assessing the situation.

Jelle took a step forward, her wooden sword resting casually against her shoulder, yet the weight of her presence alone was enough to suffocate any illusions of escape. She met Adrek’s gaze with a look that bore into him, her tone even and cold.

“I was wondering from the start,” she said, voice cutting through the thick air like a blade. “What is an underling of The Clock Hand doing here?”

The moment the name left her lips, an invisible force seemed to shift within the group. Hauke pressed his sword closer, his stance unyielding. Liselotte instinctively moved closer to Geschicht and Harriet, gripping her bundle of fire bunnies tightly, as if sensing the storm brewing before them.

Jelle’s expression remained unreadable, but her next words carried a dangerous weight.

“Talk.” Her voice was quiet but firm, leaving no room for misinterpretation. “Tell me what happened to those that disappeared.”

For the first time, Adrek let out a slow breath, his lips curling into a smirk. He glanced down at the blade resting against his throat, then back up at Jelle, his expression unreadable.

"Now, now," he murmured, voice tinged with amusement. "That's quite the accusation. But I suppose you wouldn’t have drawn your weapons if you weren’t certain."

Veynor shifted beside him, his stance growing more rigid, but he did not speak.

Jelle didn’t respond to Adrek’s attempt at deflection. Instead, she only watched, waiting—no, daring him to test her patience.

The silence stretched.

Then, finally, Adrek exhaled, his smirk widening just slightly.

“Fine,” he said. “Since you asked so nicely… I suppose there’s no harm in telling you a little something.”

Adrek let out a low chuckle, his smirk deepening as he tilted his head just slightly, the cold edge of Hauke’s sword still pressing against his skin. He met Jelle’s gaze with a glint of amusement in his eyes.

"Why don’t you just talk to my boss?" his tone laced with mockery.

Before anyone could react, a deafening explosion erupted beneath them. The ground quaked violently, sending a shockwave through the crumbling ruin as dust and debris filled the air. The force of the blast shattered stone, tearing apart a massive portion of the underground structure, making the very foundations groan in protest.

Hauke, caught off guard by the sudden detonation, stumbled, his footing momentarily lost. In that fleeting moment of vulnerability, Adrek twisted his body with practiced ease, slipping out of reach of Hauke’s blade. The sharp edge that had been at his throat mere seconds ago sliced through empty air instead.

As the dust began to settle, a tall figure emerged from the dissipating smoke, stepping forward with an unshaken, deliberate stride. A long coat billowed behind her, the fabric adorned with intricate silver embroidery that traced along its surface in the form of ancient runes, glowing faintly in the dim light of the underground.

Harriet’s golden eyes widened in recognition.

Barbel Flux.

She stood with an air of absolute control, her gaze scanning the group with measured precision. But she wasn’t alone. Another figure stepped beside her, a woman with a montante sword.

Jelle’s grip on her wooden sword tightened. Her posture remained firm, but her sharp eyes flickered with a dangerous intensity.

“Do not engage with the Middle Phalax without my supervision,” Jelle commanded, her voice cutting through the chaos like steel. She then turned her head slightly toward Hauke, her expression unwavering. “Hauke and I will take care of her.”

She lifted her blade, pointing it directly at Barbel.

Before another word could be spoken, Harriet took a step forward, his expression unreadable. His unseen hands flexed in the air around him, his stance shifting ever so slightly as a quiet resolve settled over him.

“We’ll handle the rest,” he said firmly, his voice steady.

Geschicht, standing beside him, nodded, already summoning his sword from his journal, its pages fluttering as the weapon materialized in his grasp.

Adrek wasted no time, surging forward with terrifying speed, both of his massive montante blades slicing through the air with deadly precision. His eyes gleamed with the thrill of battle as he brought his swords down in a brutal, sweeping arc toward Geschicht.

Geschicht barely had time to raise his weapon in defense. The force behind Adrek’s strike was monstrous, far greater than he had anticipated. The moment their blades clashed, an overwhelming shockwave burst from the impact. Geschicht’s body was hurled backwards as if he were nothing more than a ragdoll caught in a storm.

He crashed through layers of stone, each impact sending sharp pain through his bones as he tumbled deeper into the ruins. The sheer force of the blow carried him through several thick walls, crumbling them in his wake. Dust and debris filled the air as his body finally skidded to a halt in an unfamiliar tunnel.

“GESCHICHT!”

Harriet’s voice echoed through the ruins, raw with panic. But Geschicht was too dazed to respond immediately. His vision blurred, his body protesting in pain.

A soft shuffle of footsteps reached his ears.

“Geschicht!”

Liselotte.

She ran up to him, her small frame moving with surprising urgency as she knelt beside him. Her usually shy expression was laced with genuine concern.

Geschicht groaned, forcing himself to sit up. He blinked, shaking off the dizziness, and gave her a reassuring smile, though his body ached from the impact.

“I’m fine,” he assured her, rolling his shoulder to test for any serious injuries. “Really.”

Liselotte hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line as if she wasn’t entirely convinced.

A cold, sharp voice cut through the air.

“Well, well… what do we have here?”

Both Geschicht and Liselotte turned their heads toward the sound.

From the dust and shadows of the tunnel emerged a tall figure. A woman stepped forward, her montante sword resting against her shoulder. The dim light caught the cruel glint in her eyes as she gazed down at them, her presence radiating malice.

She tilted her head slightly, her voice dripping with condescension.

“Little vermin need to be hunted by this great Lucienne.”

Her grip on her sword tightened.

Geschicht tightened his grip on his sword, steadying his stance. His journal pulsed faintly in his hand as the blade he had summoned reflected the flickering light of the ruins. He locked eyes with Lucienne, unshaken despite the lingering pain from Adrek’s earlier strike.

Liselotte, standing beside him, reached into her small bundle, whispering something under her breath. In an instant, several fiery rabbits emerged, their small bodies crackling with intense heat. They hopped in place, their flames illuminating the dusty tunnel with a warm but menacing glow.

Lucienne smirked, her gaze flickering between the two of them. “How amusing.” With a single, fluid motion, she brought her montante down, the air itself seeming to tremble under its weight. “Let’s see how long you can keep that confidence.”

Then she lunged.

Geschicht moved first, stepping forward to meet her blade with his own. Their swords clashed, ringing out like a thunderous bell in the hollow tunnel. The force sent dust and loose debris scattering around them. Geschicht gritted his teeth, pushing back against her overwhelming strength, refusing to be overpowered again.

Liselotte didn’t hesitate. She flicked her wrist, and the fire rabbits shot forward, their tiny bodies leaping at Lucienne with fierce intensity. The moment they made contact, explosions erupted, forcing Lucienne to disengage and retreat a few steps. The heat singed the edges of her coat, but she barely seemed fazed. Instead, her smirk widened.

“Tricks won’t save you,” Lucienne sneered. Then, with frightening speed, she whirled her massive sword in a deadly arc, cutting through the flames, dispersing the remaining rabbits.

Geschicht took the opportunity to lunge forward, striking from the side. Lucienne twisted, deflecting his attack with expert precision before countering with a powerful kick to his midsection. He stumbled back, barely managing to keep his footing.

Liselotte used the opening to summon another barrage of fire, forcing Lucienne to weave between the bursts of flame.

Lucienne leapt high onto the ceiling, her body twisting unnaturally as she clung to the jagged stone like a predator stalking its prey. Then, with an explosive burst of force, she kicked off, launching herself back toward them at an insane speed. Her montante sword gleamed in the dim light, a streak of silver cutting through the air as she descended with terrifying precision.

Lucienne leapt high into the air, her montante sword raised above her head. The sheer force of her descent made the air hum with pressure as she brought the blade down toward Liselotte.

Geschicht reacted instantly, stepping in and raising his sword to intercept. The impact rattled through his arms, his knees nearly buckling under the weight of her attack. Sparks flew as steel clashed against steel, the force sending shockwaves through the ground beneath them.

But Lucienne was relentless. With a sharp twist of her body, she redirected her momentum and sent a devastating kick straight toward Liselotte.

“Liselotte!” Geschicht yelled, but it was too late.

The kick landed squarely against Liselotte’s side, sending her skidding across the stone floor. She let out a sharp gasp, her small frame tumbling before she managed to stop herself, clutching her side in pain. Her fire bunnies flickered in distress, their flames wavering.

Lucienne scoffed, flipping her sword back into a ready stance. "I can't believe they set me up against a no-name and a Grade 5 Ident," she sneered, her crimson gaze fixed on them with disdain. "Do they expect me to waste my time on scraps?"

Geschicht’s grip tightened on his sword, his breath steadying. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, but not from fear—he was analyzing her movements, memorizing the way she fought.

“Scraps?” He stepped forward, his blade gleaming under the dim ruin light.

With that, he lunged, his sword cutting through the air in a swift, aiming straight for Lucienne’s throat.

Lucienne twisted her body mid-air, narrowly avoiding Geschicht’s blade as it whistled past her neck. She landed gracefully, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

"Too slow," she taunted, effortlessly sidestepping as Geschicht pressed forward, his sword slicing through the space she had occupied mere moments before.

Geschicht didn't let up. He adjusted his stance, his grip tightening around the hilt of his sword as he slashed again—this time aiming for her legs. Lucienne leapt backwards, her movements were fluid and almost playful, her montante sword barely raised in defense.

"Is that all?" she mocked, tilting her head as she dodged another strike.

Geschicht’s eyes narrowed. He could feel the weight of each swing, the force behind every strike, yet she avoided them with such ease it was infuriating. But he didn't stop. He advanced again, his blade flashing in rapid succession, his attacks relentless.

Lucienne ducked, spun, and weaved through his offense, her expression calm, unimpressed. Then, in a sudden shift, she pivoted and closed the gap between them, her free hand reaching out like a viper.

"Predictable," she whispered, aiming a sharp knee toward Geschicht's ribs.

As Lucienne's knee shot toward Geschicht’s ribs, a sudden flare of heat filled the air. Several fire rabbits, glowing with intense orange flames, darted toward her from the side.

Lucienne’s eyes flicked toward them, her instincts kicking in as she twisted her body mid-motion. She barely managed to shift away, the fire rabbits grazing the edges of her coat. The heat singed the fabric, leaving blackened streaks where they passed.

Liselotte stood firm, her hands clenched tightly around her bundle. “Not so fast,” she said softly, her face determined. More fire rabbits materialized around her, their fiery bodies flickering with restless energy.

Lucienne clicked her tongue, stepping back. “Cute trick.” Her gaze shifted between Geschicht and Liselotte. “I suppose I should take you both seriously now.”

With that, she gripped her montante sword tighter, lowering her stance as she prepared to truly engage.

Lucienne's smirk widened as she suddenly vanished from sight, her speed surpassing what the eye could follow. Before Geschicht could react, she reappeared behind him, her montante sword already mid-swing toward his exposed back.

Liselotte gasped, her fire rabbits surging toward Lucienne in desperation, but the blade was too close—too fast.

A sharp metallic clang rang out.

For a brief moment, time seemed to freeze.

Lucienne’s expression shifted, her eyes narrowing as she looked down. A thin, almost imperceptible crack had formed along the edge of her blade, shimmering faintly in the dim light of the ruins.

Geschicht, breathing heavily, stood firm, his sword seeming to be locked against hers.

“Didn’t know how I blocked that, but tough luck, I guess” he muttered.

Lucienne’s grin returned, sharp as a predator’s. “Good.”

Then, with an explosion of force, she kicked off the ground, pushing Geschicht back. Liselotte barely managed to pull him away as Lucienne raised her sword once more.

And then—

A deafening explosion erupted from deeper within the ruins.

The walls trembled. The ground beneath them cracked a little. Something ancient began to stir.