6 : 234 : 07 : 19 : 04

A dark knight drops down from the sky. The heavy figure dressed in steel lands at the mouth of the alleyway in front of our noses, not with a big bang, but gracefully, quietly, like a proper ninja should. The polished plates of the slim, effeminately curved armor gleam in the early afternoon light and from under the back of the helmet extends a long, tightly braided ponytail, no less black than the armor, fluttering gently in the breeze.

It’s her. The killer Hume sent after us.

The knight called “Thirteen”.

“That is so cool,” I exhale in open admiration. “I don’t even know what you look like under that kettle, but I’m already a fan. Any chance I could take a selfie with you before you cut off my head?”

In answer, the knight whips out a wakizashi.

The switch happens in an instant. There’s no perceptible lag or noise. When I next blink, I realize I’m staring only at a rapidly fading afterimage and the person herself is long gone.

“Zero!” Sephram’s alarmed voice brings me back to my senses.

If I relied solely on my goggles, I’d be already dead. But my sight is based only 60% on visual light picked up by my eyes and 40% on pure “information”, events on the conceptual level. Better yet, Elemental Vision is not restricted to my physical perspective and has omnidirectional coverage over my immediate surroundings. Though I need to manually turn off my physical eyesight to make the most of it.

I narrowly dodge the cut coming at my neck. If the blade were any longer, I would've had a pretty severe haircut on top of the deal. The next attack follows without any delay, as does the next. I lean my shoulders far back to let the first go by, and block the second with my vambrace. The blade digs halfway through the plate of magically reinforced titanium and bites into my left arm. Ouch!

I suck it up and retaliate with a high, spinning kick aimed at the head. The enemy's armor set weighs over twenty-five pounds in total, but she moves like a ballerina in it. The knight cartwheels backwards and pours the momentum into a tall, beautifully arcing somersault, draws a big shuriken out of thin air, and throws it between my eyes, all while still in the air. I slam my palms together to catch the star-shaped projectile right as it’s about to dig between my eyes.

As soon as the killer’s boots touch the ground again, Sephram’s at her.

While I was fighting for dear life, he was just chilling, waiting for an opening. What a hero. I got my arm nicked because he couldn’t be arsed to help any earlier.

Our guy has pulled out a second kukri and goes in dual-wielding like a rogue should. Where did he get the other one? Is that a continuity error? Please don’t mail me about it.

But the enemy hasn’t forgotten about him and his cowardly sneak attack fails spectacularly. With the speed of a bolt of lightning, the ninja parries him with her short sword and turns to face him. He locks swords with the right blade and cuts at her with the left. Skilfully manipulating the wakizashi handle, the ninja shifts her stance to recollect both of his blades and retaliates with a sharp kick at his knee. He lifts his boot and stomps the kick down and kicks right back. She deflects with her knee and turns and cuts low. He sees it coming and doesn’t let up the heat, determined to overpower her. It’s just nonstop ringing of steel! Could it be, our guy's actually not half bad? I could've sworn he was just a jobber.

Oh, right this was supposed to be two-on-one.

I take aim with my index finger and fire a Flashpoint at the assassin when I think she isn’t looking. With downright inhuman precognition, she leans far left to evade the shot. Her posture so far broken, you'd think she was wide open for a riposte, but no! She somersaults nimbly sideways, out of the range of Sephram's daggers.

My shot hits the brittle building wall behind the duelists and punches deep. A cloud of dry clay dust and shrapnel bursts out, and I end up stunning my own ally instead of the enemy. And that is precisely why you wear a helmet to battle, you dumb spy! Accidents can and do happen in the heat of the moment!

Properly protected, none the worse for the wear, Ms Thirteen motions like wants to disembowel my colleague right there, so I fire a few more random shots at her, this time with a safer angle. The shorter the casting time the weaker the air bullets are, but the aim's also less easy to read.

Or, so I assumed.

The assassin dodges the invisible bursts one by one, or simply offsets them with her blade, and retreats into the spreading smokescreen I accidentally made for her.

Adapting, improvising, taking advantage of the changing environment—now that’s a true pro. I'm honestly impressed. It’s almost a pleasure to get killed by somebody who knows what she’s doing!

And by the time I realize she’s right behind me, the business end of her curved blade is already coming for my kidney.

Oh no! It’s that move again! The “teleports behind you”-thing! I'm in trouble! Aaah, somebody save me!

But surprise, surprise! I knew it was coming the whole time!

Come on, I was practically begging for it, standing there like a fool! How did you not realize you were being set up?

Here’s a free protip for everyone back home: using mana-based skills against a mage, while not being a real mage yourself, is generally not a terrific idea.

The big flare of energy on invocation is like a neon-colored billboard sign broadcasting, “look what I'm doing!,” visible from a mile away. It's like using a credit card and I'm your book-keeper. You might catch some dumb sucker off-guard once, if they've never seen the trick before, but this is already the second time she's trying to pull this shit on me. Please! I already know that skill is not super speed, but a quick warp with a max range of eight meters, has a cooldown of exactly forty-five seconds, and at her mana capacity, Ms Assassin can use it four times per day. In short, I already know her better than her own mom does.

The shuriken still in my hand, I cut back and down to parry the backstab. Oh no, she was not ready for that. I let my body keep spinning and dish out a high back kick at the corner of her helmet. Without hesitation, she abandons offense and cartwheels back to evade. She may be quick enough to dodge that, but not what follows. I stop my kick short and take aim. And at the moment the black knight is back on her feet and her head swings up, I fire a Flashpoint in the middle of her forehead.

Bang. It's a direct hit.

“Unh…” The ninja staggers back a step.

The whole armor is covered in protective enchantments. My magic bullet can pierce an ordinary helmet with ease, but that bowl of black metal withstands the shot. Or, not completely. The energy membrane reroutes force from the contact point throughout the helmet frame in an effort to mitigate it, but it goes over capacity. The helmet splits with a crack from front to back, the visor bent and offset.

It's impossible to see anything through the broken visor, so the knight grabs the rim, pulls the pot off and drops it away. Then she turns back to quietly scowl at me, ready to continue.

I make no move.

It’s not a mauled, scarred mutant standing in front of me. Not a zombie, or a beastman, or an elf, or anything stranger.

It's just human woman, a girl.

And what a girl.

Cold, ice blue eyes that shine with inner strength. Black, silky hair, bangs cut sharp above the brow. A clean, fair face. Thin but shapely lips. Not a princess, a fighter. She must realize she's at a major disadvantage, but she stares right at me unflinching, without fear. There's no madness in her gaze, or rage, or malice. Only stoic calm and resolve, saying she's ready to go all the way. Like I’m just a mission to her.

That gaze makes me melt.

God, she's just my type. I want her to sit on me and call me pathetic trash while she grinds my face with her heel. Oh!

Then the shocking realization dawns on me.

“Wait...I know you.”

That’s right.

I've seen this chick before. And it wasn't in a daydream.

A long time ago. A lifetime ago. Four years ago.

Yes, there. Act 1. The eighth paragraph from the bottom of the page. The big one.

That brave recruit slicing open the rock troll’s knee with a pair of daggers—that was her. No mistake about it. That perfectly shaped derriere in the wet, skin-tight uniform pants is forever etched in my brain as a treasured memory. One of the happiest experiences of my short life up until that point. Actually, it’s still one of my happiest memories even now, four years later. It played a short but significant role in shaping the person I am today.

This girl was there on the nightmare island.

She survived that hell.

We’re the same, she and I.

We were both brought into this world to fight and kill, or die trying, without so much as an understandable reason. And now, after all this time, destiny has brought us together again, so that we would fight. And kill. And die. And it’s so fucking poetic, I wish there was a song about it.

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

But while I got away from playing a toy soldier in someone else's game and turned into a tree-hugging hippie, she had to stay. She’s been living in that edgy, blood-soaked madness ever since, stabbing various people, fighting day in and day out to earn her right to live, without the option to say no. I can’t begin to express how awful that is. I can’t even imagine it.

Come on, I have to say something.

I don’t know if she can remember me, or if she even noticed I was there, but we shouldn’t be fighting each other. It’s way too sad. There has to be something I can say, as someone who comes from the same place and has been through the same. I want her to know there’s someone here who understands. Life may look like a bleak, pitch-black abyss to you right now, but not all of it is like that. There's also alcohol and helping new goats into the world. Freshly baked apple tarts. And playing with your backdoor. There's so much more to being alive than just pain, and a shared pain can be twice the joy, or something along those lines.

Everybody deserves to have a chance to try again.

Even if nobody else in the world is willing, I should be the one to give her that.

Whatever she’s done in her past, however many people she’s killed, I can forgive it. We can move past that.

Yes, I have to put my faith in this girl. The way I was saved, I need to save someone else—I’ve always known that. It’s my debt to humanity. And here's that one person I owe salvation to. It was written in the stars.

My mind is made up.

I clutch her shuriken against my flat bosom, look Thirteen fondly in the eye and tell her,

“——Will you please let me have your babies?”

And without batting an eye, the assassin answers: “No.”

She takes out a kunai and throws it at my face.

Enthralled by her endearing bluntness, my guard is down and I’m too late to react. But thankfully, I don’t have to. Sephram kindly throws himself in the way and swats the dart away with his blade. He then rushes in to attack the knight, determined to wrap this up quickly, and they cross blades again.

Was he always so bloodthirsty? Guys, there’s no need to get violent! Couldn’t we all get a cup of tea, or something, talk this through?

It looks like Thirteen’s game has become a bit confused by the change of pace, and she ends up on the defensive, struggling to answer Sephram’s vigorous assault. What? Is Sephram really that tough? Personally, I don’t think his moves are anything to write home about. Just kick his ass already. He always seemed like the kind of guy who's going to die by the end, anyway. My heart is fully prepared. Who dual-wields in real life, anyway? That’s a big yikes. Not historically accurate at all.

But Sephram's not dying. Relying on his brute mass and some dirty moves, he manages to break through Thirteen's guard and staggers her. A rising cut swims past the spaulders on the graceful assassin’s shoulder and draws blood.

“Oh my god, what are you doing!?” I scream, shocked. “Don’t kill her, for fuck’s sake!”

“Excuse me?” Sephram answers me with a look of disbelief over his shoulder. “Isn’t this the person you were deathly afraid of only yesterday?”

“That was before I wanted to marry her. Try to keep up, grandpa.”

“I can’t.”

Thanks to my timely distraction, our ninja recovers.

A sane person would abandon the fight while she still can.

It’s two against one and she’s already wounded. But there’s still no hesitation in her gaze, no room anywhere there for pain. Only duty. Twirling her blade, she recovers her posture and prepares to skewer my unaware colleague through the gut. The injury wasn’t deep enough to put her out of commission, which is why she has to carry out her orders and fight on. The orders to kill me and anyone who's with me. Till her last breath, she'll pursue that end. She's got no other choice.

“The brand!”

I can feel it. The spot on the back of the neck that burns with intense mana. It shines like a hot coal in my mind’s eye.

That word didn’t say much to me four years back, but I’m better informed now.

On that beach, they forced a control curse on all the recruits, except me. A curse that coerces nothing less but absolute obedience, the wet dream of every mad tyrant out there. If only it weren’t for that crappy stamp, those people would’ve been free to choose their own adventure, become barbers, blacksmiths, mailmen, or astronauts, join sketchy charity organizations, and fall in love, instead of murdering and dying on some nutjob’s orders.

But anything made with magic can be unmade the same way.

I reach out my hand and interface with the information structure.

“——AAAAAAAEEEEEEEEEEEE—!!”

At the same moment, the ninja girl lets out a piercing scream of pain.

She drops her blade and falls to her knees in clear agony, clutching her neck with both hands. Apparently, messing with the brand is extremely painful for the bearer. The formula is booby-trapped to hell and back. Any sane person would probably stop when hearing that heart-rending shrieking. But tough it out. A bit of agony should still be better than one of us being bisected today. I can do both S and M.

“Get back!” I tell Sephram. “I don’t know what’s going to happen!”

“What? What are you doing?”

“Dispelling the curse…I think?”

I’ve never seen a formula this elaborate before.

Analysis only reveals a new layer after layer, packed tight like a can of sardines. There's so much mathematical geometry crammed into such a tiny space, my mind can’t keep up. It may not be as sophisticated as the systems of the vault, but this thing was tailored to fuck you up in a hundred ways and then some. If you don’t unravel the thread exactly right, either nothing works, or else the victim blows up and takes you with her.

When granny creates curses, there’s always a bit of love and care mixed in the mischief. A lesson to be learned. None of that here. Whoever designed the brand didn’t give a shit what happened to these people. He only did his darndest to make things as sticky and painful as possible for everybody involved, so they wouldn’t dream of trying to break free. The spell's not there merely to enslave the poor bastards slapped with it, but also to give the middle finger to anyone who could try to help them. A magic duct tape solution to procuring cheap, disposable tools. All that can be done is yank off the tape in one go and pray the person lives.

But I have to try.

I have to.

“Just a little more…”

Another cannon shell lands a few blocks away from us. A massive column of fire and smoke shoot high up to the sky. The crappy slum houses can’t handle that firepower. The pressure rips through them like cardboard and the quaking shakes their very foundations. We’re covered from the worst of the blast, but the building next to us has seen enough drama for a lifetime. Fractured all over, it begins to crumble. And of course, it’s coming down right on top of our heads.

“We have to go!” Sephram yells at me, watching the tall wall tilt menacingly our way.

“Just a little more!”

Can’t move now. I need to use my actual eyes and maintain a stable position for this.

I’m about 60% through analyzing the ritual architecture. 62%. It takes maybe five, six seconds until the wall buries us. Maybe I can rush the remaining chunk in those six seconds, if I really, really try, and then cast the shield to save us? I know I can’t, logically—but maybe, if I really want to, I can surpass my limits and do the impossible? Maybe a miracle will happen?

“Almost there...”

“—Now!”

My friend makes the choice for me.

Sephram grabs me, throws me over his shoulder, and makes a run for it. I lose the connection. By diving hard and low, we barely avoid being squashed under tons of broken brick, rotten wood, and random trash that slam into the alleyway and fill it up from end to end. Shortly after, the wall of the neighboring building follows along, and we crawl and scurry to get distance.

Out of breath, tired and dazed, I sit on the street and stare at the mountain of chunky debris as dust clouds roll by.

Did she get out in time?

I can’t pick up any nearby life signs, no matter how I try. Sure, my range isn't limitless, but getting that far away, so quickly...Damn, I can't say for sure.

“Come on.” Sephram pats my back. “The others will soon be here. We have to keep moving.”

Yeah.

I know.

Right behind you.