The soft chime of the door echoed through the quiet Moon Dallah coffee shop, disrupting the serene atmosphere. The barista, lost in his monotonous task of cleaning, glanced up at the new customer, ready to offer his usual greeting. “Welcome to Moon Dall—”
His words were cut short as his body hit the floor with a dull thud, unconscious before he even knew what was happening.
Elizabeth stood over him, her expression cold and impassive. At her side, Riftel watched without a trace of concern. "See if you can find any hidden passageways in the building," she said, her voice as sharp as her gaze.
"Right." Riftel moved without hesitation, producing his notebook and fountain pen from within his coat. He scrawled symbols and intricate circles across the page. With the final stroke of his pen, the symbols began to glow, pulsating with an eerie red light.
Tendrils of red smoke unraveled from the page, slithering along the walls like sentient vines. They coiled and curled into every corner and crevice, creeping through the room with quiet purpose. As the tendrils reached the back of the shop, they slipped behind a dusty bookshelf, but instead of dissipating, they continued to move, curling around something unseen.
Riftel’s eyes narrowed, as he sipped from a cup of coffee he found on the counter. "Eliz," he said, his voice steady, "there’s something behind that bookshelf at the back. Pfft- this is too bitter!"
“Understood,” Elizabeth responded concisely. “Also, stop fooling around.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, she pivoted on her heel and launched a powerful front kick at the bookshelf. The force of her strike was enough to splinter the wood with a loud crack, sending shards flying in every direction. The entire bookshelf crumpled inward, collapsing onto itself as jagged chunks of wood scattered across the floor and into the space behind the shelf.
The violent impact revealed a hidden stairwell behind the wreckage, the entrance now exposed beneath the debris.
Elizabeth barely glanced at the wreckage before signaling to Riftel with her hands. She ducked through the gaping hole in the shelf and stepped into the stairwell, quickly assessing the descending path below. Without a second thought, she vaulted over the railing, landing with a solid thud at the bottom. Dust swirled in the dim light as her impact echoed through the confined space.
From above smoke began to pour through the railings like a waterfall, spreading throughout the the underground hideout rapidly.
In the distance, the unmistakable sounds of rushed footsteps and weapons being drawn echoed from deeper within the mercenaries' base.
Elizabeth reached for the handle of the door before her, rotating it cautiously. Just as she began to open it, a sharp, glinting katana pierced through the wood with a loud splintering crack. Reacting instantly, Elizabeth twisted her body parallel to the blade and leapt back, avoiding the deadly thrust by a hair’s breadth. The door slammed open, revealing a tall man with long dark, messy hair stepping through the threshold—Vargo, his eyes locked on hers, katana gleaming in the dim light.
Finding herself facing an opponent armed with a katana—a weapon with much greater reach—Elizabeth quickly assessed the narrow stairwell. She decided to turn its compactness to her advantage.
With nimble precision, she unsheathed her daggers in one fluid motion, dodging another wide slash from Vargo's blade. As the katana sliced through the air above her, Elizabeth dropped into a low slide, hooking her daggers into Vargo’s arm, and using her momentum, she propelled herself up and behind him, her body coiling against the wall like a tightly wound spring.
In the blink of an eye, she launched herself off the wall, flipping over Vargo’s head. As she soared through the air, she wrenched her daggers free with a sharp twist, her lithe form moving too swiftly for Vargo to react. The entire sequence unfolded within a heartbeat, leaving her opponent struggling to regain his balance, barely comprehending what had just happened.
From the doorway, a man in a dark black trench coat stepped into view, his storm-grey eyes immediately locking onto Elizabeth with a murderous gleam. Without a moment’s hesitation, he drew his magnum revolvers, each barrel emitting a faint, viridescent smoke-like aura that danced ominously in the dim stairwell.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
BANG! BANG!
The sound of gunfire cracked through the air with deafening force. The bullets left the barrels at a speed that seemed unnatural—faster than ordinary rounds, which are already swift in their deadly trajectory. The enhanced velocity threw off Elizabeth’s reflexes. She attempted to dodge, but the accelerated shots caught her off guard, and one grazed her arm with a burning sting.
Elizabeth winced, feeling the searing pain spread from the wound, but she didn't let it slow her down. Her eyes narrowed as blood trickled down her arm, already recalculating her next move in the chaos. Darting up the stairs she avoided a few more shots after adjusting to their faster speed.
“Dammit!” Corvid growled, reloading his magnums with swift precision as he ejected the empty cartridges. “I’ll chase after her. You go warn Otome! This might be a trap to draw us out but If we don’t move now, they’ll be swarming all over us in no time!”
Without waiting for a response, Corvid jammed fresh rounds into his guns using a quick loader, snapping the cylinders shut with a sharp click. He sprinted up the steps, his footsteps echoing through the stairwell as he disappeared from Vargo’s sight.
Vargo didn't hesitate either. He turned on his heel and bolted through the nearest door, bursting into the hallway that led to Otome's office. His mind raced, knowing every second was crucial. The sound of his boots pounding against the floor was the only noise that filled the otherwise quiet corridor as he made his way toward the heart of the building, determined to deliver the warning.
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Inside Otome's office, the tension was thick. The sound of rapid footsteps from the hallway echoed, and Otome, sensing the urgency, stood up just as Vargo staggered through the door. His face was pale, his breathing ragged, and his left arm was slick with blood, dripping onto the polished floor in a steady rhythm.
Otome's voice was sharp and commanding, cutting through the air. “What’s the status?!”
“Our location’s compromised!” Vargo rasped, trying to steady his breath. “We have at least one assailant outside—likely an assassin. There’s probably more of them. Corvid’s working on securing the storefront as we speak.”
Otome’s expression darkened. “Get everyone else. Prepare for an immediate escape.”
Vargo gave a curt nod, turning and hurrying out of the room, his footsteps retreating down the hall as Otome swiftly turned her attention to me.
“How skilled are you and your companions at combat?” she asked, her eyes piercing as she assessed the situation, clearly gauging whether we could hold our own in what was coming.
“We’ll be able to hold our own in serious combat,” I replied, meeting Otome’s gaze.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Otome reached beneath her desk and pulled a lever. The low grinding of gears filled the room as the wall behind her slid downward, revealing an array of steampunk-style equipment. Polished brass, copper coils, and intricate dials hummed with a soft, almost electric energy. Without wasting any time, Otome began strapping on various pieces of armor. Her gauntlets crackled faintly with arcs of energy, and a sleek apparatus with cables ran from her back, along her arms, connecting to her gauntlets with pulleys that seemed to enhance her movements looking somewhat similar to an exoskeleton.
As she worked, she spoke swiftly, her voice steady but tense. “I apologize for this, but if you want to make it out alive, I’ll need your help in combat. Do you need any equipment?”
“Do you have any spare handguns?” I asked, scanning the array behind her.
“Yes,” she replied, opening a drawer to retrieve a well-worn magazine-fed handgun. Its metal was dulled by use but had a reassuring weight. With a quick flick of her wrist, she slid it across the desk to me, along with a few spare magazines.
I picked it up and felt the familiar weight of the gun in my hand. Pulling back the slide, I saw the bullet chambered and ready. I released it with a sharp click before putting on the safety and holstering the weapon and the spare mags, confident I was ready for both close and mid-range combat.
Otome finished gearing up, securing the last piece of equipment before glancing toward the door. “Hope you’re ready,” she said. “Things are about to get intense.”
We didn’t waste time. The two of us rushed through the hallways, our steps quick and purposeful. From a room ahead of us, Victoria and the black-haired archer I’d seen earlier appeared. They immediately fell in step with us.
“Otome, do we have a strategy?” the archer asked, his voice laced with urgency.
“There wasn’t enough time to plan anything intricate,” Otome responded, “But from what I’ve gathered, they’re likely already fighting in the storefront. There are only a handful of groups that would come after us, and I’m betting it’s State Security. Those dogs still think we’re responsible for what happened in Marin, even though we were just bystanders! They’ve likely called for reinforcements already, which means we don’t have the luxury of stalling.”
Otome's eyes flicked between us, “Our best bet is to split into smaller groups of three to four people and use different exits. We’ll be more inconspicuous that way. Then we’ll all try to make it to Ardem, the kingdom on the border of Cielmouth. If we move quickly and stay off their radar, we might just make it. You, Victoria, and Huairen split into a group and use the abandoned inn exit. Tokei you and your companions will follow me since I know the lay of the land here while you’ll be clueless.”
We exchanged nods, ready to move as the sound of distant gunfire and combat rumbled through the building. The battle was in full swing.