The shadows blurred with movement as Kaela slammed into the first assassin with the full force of her momentum, fist slamming into his ribcage. The impact resounded with a sharp thud, and he staggered back—but not down. His foot twisted, anchoring his stance, and he retaliated with a sweeping roundhouse that Kaela barely ducked beneath.
Two more assassins closed in from the sides.
She twisted her body low, legs coiling, then exploded upward into a backward somersault kick. Her heel collided with a masked jaw—crack—and the assassin reeled back.
She landed, rolled, and spun on her heel just in time to deflect a knife thrust with her forearm guard. The steel scraped skin but didn't break through.
"Fast," she muttered under her breath. "But not fast enough."
Across town—Liam moved with surgical precision.
The assassins encircled him now, their blades glinting in the dim light of the inner chamber. They didn't speak. These were trained professionals—silent, calculating.
The first charged. Liam slid to the side, catching the attacker's wrist mid-strike, twisted, and flipped him over his shoulder with brutal efficiency. He didn't wait to admire the arc of the man's fall—he pivoted and ducked a spinning elbow from the second attacker.
The third and fourth came in together—one low, one high.
Liam planted his foot, shifted his weight, and leapt. His knee caught one in the collarbone mid-dash, while his palm struck the side of the other's face. Not enough to take them down—but enough to stagger.
All four regrouped around him, slower now, wary.
Liam exhaled through his nose, chest rising and falling in rhythm.
"Still want to underestimate me?" he asked quietly.
Back with Kaela—
She wasn't speaking anymore.
She was moving like a blur, dodging a barrage of attacks. The assassins were adapting. They started flanking her with tighter formations, one attacking head-on while another struck from behind. A third began using the walls—vaulting off them for surprise aerial strikes.
Kaela spun, parried, elbowed, ducked, kicked, twisted out of reach—every motion fluid and feral. Her knuckles bled. One of her ribs ached—cracked, maybe. But her eyes were focused. Relentless.
An assassin grabbed her arm from behind—too slow. She whipped backward, slamming her forehead into his masked face, then kicked behind her heel into his shin. As he dropped, she threw her body forward into a roll and sprang up, fists raised again.
Lucas watched from the side, arms folded, ready to intervene—but not yet.
"She's not just holding her own," he murmured. "She's learning them."
Liam—
He was bleeding from a small cut above his brow. Sweat dripped into his eye, but he didn't flinch.
The four assassins began fighting like a hive mind—communicating through motion alone. Two faked left, then one swept Liam's leg from under him. He hit the floor hard—then rolled just in time to avoid a blade plunging into where his chest had been.
He grabbed a leg mid-roll and yanked—hard. The assassin stumbled. Liam followed with a rising knee to the chin, a hook to the ribs, then pivoted and launched a snap kick into the gut of the closest attacker.
Still, they kept coming.
They were testing him.
He adjusted, syncing his footwork to Dreck's drills—his center low, weight perfectly balanced. One assassin slashed at his thigh. He twisted and caught the blade between his palms, then wrenched it sideways—snapping the handle free from the assassin's grip. He spun and threw it aside.
"Three weapons left," he muttered.
Back to Kaela—
She dropped low, sweeping the legs out from one attacker, then pivoted her body and caught another with a rising uppercut that sent him airborne.
But the fourth caught her—fist to the side of her face.
Kaela staggered. Her vision spun.
The assassin lunged again, blade-first.
Kaela fell backward, letting gravity pull her out of the blade's path. She flipped mid-fall, landing on all fours like a panther, then kicked off into a spiraling axe kick that caught the attacker cleanly across the chest.
His armor cracked.
Still breathing hard, Kaela glanced at Lucas.
He gave a short nod.
The fight wasn't over.
Liam—
One assassin managed to catch him with a backhand across the face. Liam's lip split, blood dripping onto the floor.
Liam stumbled, wiped the blood away—and laughed.
"Okay," he said, voice low. "Now it's my turn."
He moved.
Blindingly fast.
He ducked under the next strike, twisted inside the attacker's guard, and drove three sharp blows to the gut in quick succession—each one perfectly placed. The man folded.
Liam turned, caught a wrist, disarmed a blade, and jabbed the hilt into another's throat.
The last two lunged together—one from the left, one from the right.
He backflipped—landing behind them—and swept their feet out from under them with a spinning kick.
His chest rose and fell, hands clenched, blood dripping down his cheek.
Kaela—
She faced down the final two still standing. The third was groaning on the floor. The fourth was unconscious.
Kaela's feet were planted. Her stance—tight and ready.
"You still think I'm coming with you?" she asked, voice cold.
The assassins said nothing.
They lunged.
Kaela ducked, launched herself into a rising cyclone of spinning fists, elbows, knees—every movement surgically placed.
The last attacker crumpled under the combined assault.
And then—
Silence.
But only for a breath.
All eight ass assasins—four with Liam, four with Kaela—rose slowly. Bloodied, bruised, but not beaten.
Tch. I can't believe we're still struggling against one kid."
"This is getting ridiculous."
"It's a shame to waste an Awakening Echo on a child… but it seems we have no choice."
One of the assassins said
What the hell is with this kid