Andel’s lance hummed in his hands, faint arcs of lightning snapping across the haft and racing toward the tip. The air smelled sharp—ozone and frost—and the power made the fine hairs on his arms rise.

  He grinned.

  His new passive skill. [Lightning Synergy]

  Kana’s suggestion had seemed odd at first, experimental perhaps—a combination skill meant to amplify kinetic strikes with elemental feedback. But now, as sparks bled off the metal like restless spirits, Andel was satisfied. Every thrust sent a charge through his veins, the world slowing as his mind caught up with the rhythm of the storm inside him.

  The next wave hit—massive shapes breaking through the snow mist. The yeti’s roar thundered across the field, a rolling boulder of sound.

  Andel set his stance, drew a breath that felt like swallowing fire, and muttered, “[Lightning Lance Strike]”

  The lance ignited. Light burst from the tip, pure and white, spearing forward with a sound like tearing cloth. The bolt punched through the yeti’s gut, burning a hole clean through the beast and the three monsters behind it. Steam rose from their bodies, their hair smoking.

  Andel lowered his weapon, panting. He didn’t know how time had passed. His muscles trembled from the recoil of the energy, his arms half-numb. But gods, that had felt good.

  The damage output rivaled most adult [Spearman]—no, exceeded it. He could feel the strong energy feedback echoing through his body, the way his mana veins vibrating in rhythm with the storm’s cadence.

  Perhaps he could now spar and make it like an equal footing to his brothers who had a knight class.

  He turned slightly, scanning the others. They too had changed—each of them newly empowered, moving with the cautious excitement of people testing unfamiliar strength.

  That part bothered him.

  New skill awakening was rare, especially this early. For most people, the new skill awakening didn’t emerge until their late thirties—after years of refinement, and very few people could achieve it. Yet somehow, almost all of them had acquired new ones at once. All except Boris, Suri, Leo… and Adam.

  Nevermind Adam. The man never used his skills anyway. But the others had likely gone through the new skill awakening.

  Andel shook his head, pushing the thought away. The battlefield wasn’t a place to think about other things.

  Another rumble split the air—more yetis, coming through the snowstorm. He spun his lance in a defensive circle, lightning dancing again around the Lance. The storm responded like a living thing, wrapping itself around him, eager to be loosed once more.

  He would ask Kana later.

  For now, there were monsters to kill.

  …..

  Artin answered for the group before anyone else could. He transformed without flourish, shoulders folding into hairy height, claws scraping the earth. The beast that was Artin rose between the twins and the tunnel like a living bulwark. “You won’t take her,” he said, voice low animal rumble that shook the stone. He was not threatening — he was stating a fact: this is where we stand.

  The twin laughed. It was the wrong sound in a place like this.

  “We don’t want more killing than necessary,” the second twin said. “But the world is rarely reasonable. Your friend can decide.” He let the sentence hang like an ultimatum. “She will stay here, or five more die. Your choice.”

  The first twin grumbled,”We want to do what we ask. No more. No less. Additional work doesn’t mean they’re going to pay more. Save us the effort.”

  Silence settled like thick wool. In the distance the garrison’s fires spat and hissed; the sound of men moving, of steel, was a thin drumbeat under it all. Kana could hear her own pulse the way one hears a drumline in a story: steady, now, and controlling everything.

  What in the world is happening above?

  She had options. A rash charge might disrupt them, but what would be the cost? There was always the third thing. There was always the trick they taught you when you were still a child in the woods back home: make the enemy choose between two things you can live with and one thing you can’t.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Kana straightened. Where rage had flamed, something like cold clarity took root. She dipped her eyes to Ger, to the prince, to Artin’s half human half something else, and then back to Lex.

  She muttered words under her breath where only Artin and Lex could hear though the prince might also have caught some of it. Then turned her head towards the twins.

  “All right,” she said, and the tunnel swallowed her voice but not the hard, “I’m going to stay here. Let them go.”

  Artin’s beast-head snapped up toward her. Ger made a sound that could have been a protest. The prince’s eyes flared, as if to bite back at her.

  She held up a hand.

  The twins frowned. “Hmm?”

  “Finally got a decision?”

  Kana nodded. The twins let the prince group enter the tunnel.

  The twin’s eyes narrowed. He had not expected that. No one ever suggested a bargain that kept the captor from wearing the captive like a banner.

  One of the twin’s hands drifted to his curved sword’s hilt — the thumb brushing the rune. For a moment the world contracted to the span between that thumb and her throat. Then, very slowly, the man laughed again. It was softer this time, admitting something. “You’re bold,” he said.

  “I don’t have a choice.” Kana said.

  Kana felt the marrow of a decision settle into her. She could see the edges of it now: the things she would lose, and the things she would not allow to be taken. The rage in her chest steadied into something colder, more useful.

  For a moment, no one spoke. The only sound was the wind, and the distant thunder of the shattered garrison being cleared. Everyone moved as if a bell had been rung. Kana’s spine felt as if a steel chord had been tightened in it:

  ….

  Kana took a slow, steadying breath. The air burned cold in her lungs, sharp and metallic.

  Across from her, the twins drew their curved swords in one smooth motion. The blades whispered free, the sound almost reverent. No banter, no arrogance. Just precision. That was worse.

  They weren’t posturing. They were killers. Her death was almost certain in their eyes.

  A young girl like her should have been underestimated—like the shadow man before. But these two were not. Judging from their stance, the way their eyes tracked her center mass, they knew exactly what she could do.

  She didn’t have to win. She just had to buy time until the prince’s group reached the end of the tunnel.

  Then they moved.

  The twins vanished—not with skills, but with raw speed. Kana’s body reacted before her mind did. Her [High Awareness] could feel them, instinctively forcing her legs to leap back. Steel sliced through the air where her neck had been, catching a few strands of hair that fluttered past her face.

  She landed lightly, knees bent. The impact tremored through her boots.

  So that was their rhythm. Two strikes, mirrored angles. A perfect symmetry.

  They weren’t trying to capture her. They were trying to kill her.

  Kana grit her teeth, eyes darting between the two forms that encircled her like wolves. Her body moved before she thought—sidestep, twist, duck, parry with a thread of marble energy hardened into a ripple along her forearm. Sparks sang as steel met her energy construct, flaring white for an instant before dissipating.

  Too close.

  Every strike came within inches of killing her.

  The twins fought as if sharing a single mind. When one attacked high, the other swept low; when one feinted, the other punished her instinct to dodge. It wasn’t chaotic. It was a dance—measured, relentless, exhausting.

  Kana’s breath came in ragged bursts, vapor steaming in the cold. Sweat beaded down her temples despite the winter chill. She’d dodged dozens of attacks, but each evasion cost her—tiny shavings of energy, milliseconds of reaction time.

  They weren’t getting faster.

  I’m getting slower.

  She wanted to delay them by talking or anything that possibly made them curious but she couldn't. Uttering even a single word was a hard challenge by itself. She couldn’t even use a single skill because that would leave her wide open on the other side.

  Her muscles screamed. She risked a glance behind—stairs leading upward. No. They’d positioned themselves between her and the possible escape route, cutting off every clear path.

  She thought of the others still in the tunnel below—the prince, Mica, Artin, Ger, Lex, and Ryle. If she fled that way, the twins would follow, and none of them might survive at all.

  Her chest heaved. A minute barely passed yet she already reached her limit.

  She had only one option left.

  Kana slammed her hand to the floor, a thin layer of light beneath her boots. The twins noticed—of course they did—and lunged in unison, curved swords flashing.

  She grinned, [Teleportation]

  The scroll glowed with blinding light, sigils igniting like a miniature sunrise.

  Pain lanced through her arm. One of the blades grazed her shoulder just as the dungeon item took hold. Heat seared across her skin; she bit back a scream. Blood splattered across the glowing runes, and for a moment she thought the dungeon item might fail.

  Then the world cracked apart.

  Light swallowed everything.

  Sound vanished—replaced by pressure, a sensation like being compressed through a pinhole of glass. Her stomach lurched, and in an instant, the weight of the world returned. She hit the ground hard, tumbling across dirt and stone before coming to a stop.

  The night was silent here.

  Kana gasped, rolling onto her back, clutching her bleeding shoulder. Her surroundings came into focus: tall trees, muddy soil—a very familiar place.

  She made it.

  Barely.

  Where am I?

  The scroll in her hand was nothing but ash. The cut on her shoulder burned, the wound shallow but deep enough to sting with every movement. She pressed her hand against it, forcing herself to breathe, to think.

  They’d still be after her. Those two—those things—wouldn’t stop until she was dead.

  She could still feel their rhythm in her head. The way their movements matched. The way their eyes had tracked her, not as prey—but as a problem to solve.

  Kana closed her eyes and drew a slow, ragged breath. She reached out with her [High Awareness] flowing through the earth beneath her, rippling outward. Searching.

  But she hesitated.

  The wound on her shoulder pulsed, pain laced with something else—a faint tingle of foreign energy. She grimaced. Whatever those blades were made of, they weren’t normal.

  Her [High Awareness] finally found them and they were searching for her.

  She pushed herself up, wiped the blood from her cheek, and whispered under her breath, “You’re not catching me that easily.”