“What the fuck.”

Trace Taylor stared as Janus grabbed the Obsidian Longsword with both his hands. He had cut himself on the black edge of the blade. His blood smeared the flat of the sword with a dark, sizzling crimson.

Elizabeth Evergreen blinked as she tried to pull her weapon back. “Hey, uh, could you maybe let—”

Janus released the Obsidian Longsword, and Liz stumbled back. She caught herself from falling over, but the Berserker was on her in an instant. Powered by the grey aura of his vytal, he charged the Swordsmaiden with his bloodied fists.

And Trace moved. Without thinking, she brought swapped clips and and squeezed the trigger. She didn’t even take the time to aim. Pure instinct guided her, and thanks to both Magically Enhanced Accuracy and Vulnerability Vision, she didn’t completely miss her shot. Quite the contrary, she struck true— the Mystic Bullet whizzed through the air, aimed straight for the Berserker’s head.

It was like time slowed down. Or perhaps Trace was under the effects of Immersed Perception. Either way, she watched as Janus sluggishly turned with bloodshot eyes towards the redhead. The gunshot rang off, drawing his attention just to see the bullet barrelling its way for his skull.

The spinning bullet drew closer. He could only watch. Even with his quickened movements— considering he probably had a relatively high dexterity— he wouldn’t be able to avoid the gunshot from that distance. It was already too close. He would die.

And just as the bullet impacted his skull, Trace flinched. She snapped her eyes shut, not wanting to see the spurt of blood that came from his forehead. It wasn’t even something she thought about. It was natural to want to avoid seeing something bloody and brutal. Even if she had built up some tolerance from seeing blood and gore in battle, she still had never killed anyone before.

This would be her first kill. Janus would be the first person Trace murdered.

Murdered.

Was it really murder?

It was more like self-defence. Even still, Trace was eighteen. She was barely old enough for college, let alone killing another human being.

And yet, didn’t Janus deserve it? He was responsible for raping and kill so many innocent women. He’d just come out of a room where he kept literal sex slaves— random women he’d kidnapped off the streets to violate.

So, Trace made peace with it. She made peace with killing a terrible fucking arsehole. There really was nothing to debate— sure, she’d feel gross for a bit, but she’d move on quickly, right?

A crack formed on her eyelids. She peeked out, expecting to see the corpse of Janus lying right before Liz, right above a pool of blood.

Clink.

The redhead’s eyes grew wide as she saw not a corpse, but the crumpled up form of her bullet drop from the Berserker’s forehead. It had struck him— only for the aura covering his body to block the attack. It halted the bullet, protecting him, and all she did was knock his head back a little bit.

“How? …” She was in disbelief; she could parse what happen if only for a second of thought— clearly, he’d been protected by the vytal coating his body— but her brain couldn’t process it. After all, in Trace’s mind, she’d already accepted Janus as dead.

But he was alive. And he was angrier than ever.

“You!” he bellowed.

Only for a black blade to strike him from behind. He staggered back as Liz swung once more, aiming for his neck again. Both times, he was protected by the aura around him. He only grew more enraged from each hit, and the vytal covering him grey darker until it was a pitch black. Liz raised her blade as Trace was about to fire another shot.

“Why won’t you die?” the Swordsmaiden shouted.

And Janus exploded. He literally exploded. The aura around him blasted out, sending Liz flying against the Dungeon wall. Trace was far enough away that she wasn’t knocked into the air, but she still had to brace herself from falling over.

His vytal dissipated, and he stood there, cool, calm, but still filled with rage. Behind him, there were shouts. Footfalls approached the room, and Trace stared as figures made their way to the hallway. More members of his gang— bastards from the Onyx Lair Crew.

[It appears you are outnumbered and outmatched,] Ex idly commented.

“J-just,” she managed to get out, “just tell me their damn levels.”

In total, there four gang members joined Janus. They wore bike helmets, as expected. One had a baseball bat, for whatever reason, and another held a shotgun in both of his hands. The remaining two had rifles slung around their back, but by the gathering aether around their hands, Trace wagered they were Spellcsaters who’d only use the guns out of necessity.

Their levels ranged from low level 10, to nearly level 20. Yes, one of them was even higher-levelled than Trace.

The man with a baseball bat stepped forward. “Boss, how can we help you?”

“Kill them,” Janus said simply. “I want them dead. No mercy. Kill them now!” And he lost his composure.

Trace groused as she readied herself for the four of them. “You’ve got to be fucking with me. How am I supposed to deal with these goons?”

“Not alone, of course.” The chipper voice of Liz came from behind the redhead. “We got this, Trace. Trust.”

“God, you better be right. If we die from this, I swear…” Trace tried to come up with a threat, only to realise there was nothing she could do once she was dead. Maybe in the afterlife, if that was a thing. After all, sure, there were aliens and monsters and magic and shit— why couldn’t heaven be real, too?

She sighed.

“I swear, I’ll be real unhappy about it.”

“Mood, to be honest.” Liz grinned. The sable-tressed Swordsmaiden wasn’t just chipper. She was excited. She exuded the feeling of that of a child who got a new toy. Could they really win this fight? The fact that it was even a question was what piqued Liz’s interest.

And terrified Trace. But the redhead fought, because she had to. She fired a round, signialling the start of the continued battle. Janus no longer had that aura of protection around him, so he didn’t just stand still as she opened fire. However, he moved swiftly despite his injuries. It was like he didn’t feel pain. He still moved with a stumble. He just wasn’t completely immobile like he should be.

The man with the baseball bat charged for Trace as she targeted the Spellcasters who stayed back. Liz intercepted him, slicing up with her Obsidian Longsword. He tried to parry the attack with his own weapon— and blinked as the baseball bat was cut in half.

“Uh… huh,” he said.

“What did you think was going to happen?” Liz snorted.

Before she could finish the job, a ball of fire flew across the battlefield. Liz nimbly flipped out of the way as it blasted apart the tiled floor. Trace gritted her teeth as she slid past the smoke and debris, firing round after round. She was still hurt from her Last in the Chamber blast from earlier. It fucking sucks.

But she moved because she had to. She nicked one of the Spellcaster in the shoulder as Liz ran straight through the smoke, deflecting stone pellets being hurled her way. The man with the dual shotguns blocked her path. He raised his weapons, grinning.

“Eat lead, bitch.”

He pulled the trigger right as Liz’s eyes flickered. She swung up with her sword, sending a wave of vytal at the guns. It broke both weapons in an instant. He stared at Liz as he was disarmed.

“Oh, fuck.”

What a bunch of bumbling morons, Trace thought. A fireball shot out at Liz, and she leapt up onto the man’s face. With a kick, she pushed herself off him and twisted over the flames as it engulfed him.

Literal morons, Trace continued the train of thought as she shot down the stone pellets flying her way. The other Spellcaster conjured a spear made of ice and tossed it at the redhead. She narrowed her eyes as she counted the bullets in her magazine. Four left. So, she emptied it as quickly as possible.

The first one barely chipped away at the head of ice spear, and the second actually formed a crack on its body. The third finally broke the spearhead, but there was still the rest of the body to worry about.

The fourth and final bullet completely eviscerated the ice spear. The Spellcaster yelped and threw himself to the side as the aetheric bullet tore its way towards him. It struck him on the arm, sending bits of bone out along with a deluge of blood as he screamed.

“Two down!” Trace called out. “Two to go—”

It was at that point, the redhead realised she miscounted; there weren’t just two left, after dealing with the man with the shotgun and one of the Spellcasters. There was still Janus himself. And he reminded her of his existence with a stomach-punch back to reality.

He pummeled her with more force than an actual fucking silverback gorilla, forcing all the spit out of Trace’s throat. She wheezed involuntarily, her face contorting in pain as she turned to her assailant.

“Y-you… fuck…”

“Trace!” Liz shouted. The Swordsmaiden turned her attention away from the remaining Spellcaster who was trying to pelt her with stone darts, only for the man with the broken baseball bat to bar her path.

“These were vintage! Rabe Buth himself signed them!”

“Uh, who?”

“Only the greatest baseball player of all time!”

Liz gave him a flat stare. “I still have absolutely no clue who that is.”

“He’s… you know what? Fuck it.” He gritted his teeth in frustration as a silver aura coalesced. “Parry this, you filthy casual!”

He swung at her with the broken baseball bat as a flash of vytal lashed out. Liz raised her Obsidian Longsword to block his skill, still trying to get to the downed redhead.

Meanwhile, Trace squirmed as Janus held her down with one hand. He loomed over her, almost like a giant. It was as if the palm of his hand was bigger than her entire body. She struggled to get up, but it was no use. She might as well have been a toddler trying to escape the strangling hands of a deranged serial killer.

“L-let go of me—”

“Oh, sure, I’ll do just that,” Janus said in a calm voice. Then his gaze darkened and his voice grew strained. “Right after I fucking kill you.”

Trace reached for her pistol, but the Berserker grabbed it with his free hand and tossed it aside. Then he raised his hand, wearing a vicious smile on his face as the redhead closed her eyes.

“Now, die—”

And there was a flash, followed by a thunk, and a scream.

Trace opened her eyes to see her pistol was back in her hand. Fortunately, Janus hadn’t thrown the pistol far enough away to be out of Recall Weapon’s radius. Unfortunately, before the redhead could shoot him with Last in the Chamber, he had stumbled out of the way.

She got back up, staring at Janus as he pulled an object off his shoulder. It was an arrow. He growled and threw it off.

“Who did that?”

“I did,” a familiar voice said.

Trace looked up to see Sam standing at the other end of the hallway. He held up his bow, flashing a typical grin on his face.

“We’d have arrived sooner, but this place is a maze.”

“More of them?” Janus’ brows snapped together.

“Wait, ‘we’? …” Trace blinked.

And from behind Sam, a man strode forward, fashionably dramatic. Adair Russell bowed as a spark of flame flickered into existence above his head.

“Yes,” he said. “We’re here to, ah, kick some ass, as you would say.”

He snapped his finger, and the fire morphed into a bolt of lightning, lashing straight for the Berserker.