Sweat beaded across Ana’s face as she clicked her tongue in frustration. “Damn it,” she whined, “my blows barely connect.”

  With a viciousness that surprised even her, going so far as to forget the promise she had made to Lydia to carefully avoid vital organs, she hurled her projectiles at the man with the clear intent to strike him down. The result, however, was nothing short of disappointing.

  He moved at a disconcerting speed. Even though Ana had practically crippled his speed-enhancing power, his base speed alone was enough to give her trouble. No, it was worse than that. Barely a minute into the fight, he had already maneuvered her into a position where she was beginning to highly question whether this battle was even winnable.

  After evading so many of her attacks, attacks she had a very limited supply of, Ana found herself facing a growing problem. She was running out of projectiles. As it stood, she had only one combat skill to rely on, Windbust Array, and its most effective offensive use depended entirely on hurling physical objects. Without projectiles, the skill became painfully limited. That realization pressed down on her mind as heavily as the man advancing before her.

  With only a couple of projectiles left, Ana was forced to resort to feigned throws. The tactic had two goals. One was to create an opening, and the other was to preserve what little ammunition she had left, since she strongly suspected he would dodge regardless. She was proven right on the second count, but failed entirely on the first. Her dagger sailed past him, missing cleanly, and after dodging the feint, he immediately dodged again. It was a failure, but that was not the worst part.

  The worst part came after. Wearing a wide, sadistic grin, he rushed her. Ana was tempted to throw another projectile, but she knew missing would waste one of her last two. Instead, she pretended to throw once more then promptly activated Windbust Array to create distance. The skill carried her a dozen meters away in an instant, but the gap closed just as quickly as Fynn surged after her.

  Ana clicked her tongue again and repeated the maneuver, using another feint to buy space. This time, he did not fall for it. Without bothering to dodge, he dashed straight toward her. Ana hastily summoned Windbust Array twice in succession, evading his grasp by less than half a meter.

  In that moment, she triggered the second array she had summoned. The magic circle beneath his feet erupted like a geyser, releasing a violent burst of wind far beyond the output she maintained through the fight. The attack was precise and meant to injure, but Fynn reacted instantly, stepping back and withdrawing from the blast zone before it could do real damage.

  “Shiiiiit,” Ana hissed under her breath.

  There was no doubt about it. Judging by his movements and the ease with which he handled her attacks, this man was nothing like the followers she had faced before. He was experienced, especially when it came to fighting other humans. There was a clear difference between those accustomed to battling monsters and those trained to fight people. At equivalent levels, the one used to fighting humans almost always held the advantage. Even a slight level disadvantage could be overcome through experience, imagination, and ruthlessness, something that people who're used to fighting fellow human beings tend to develop better compared to someone fighting monsters.

  Ana’s own fighting style revolved around cunning and creativity, yet even that was not enough here. He had been trained the same way she had, and that made all the difference.

  “Is this all you can do, girl?” he taunted. “Throw your little projectiles and run around? Are you stalling for your friends?”

  “What if I am?” Ana replied, engaging the banter deliberately. She wanted time, not for Lydia or the others, but for herself. She needed a plan, because she had entered this battle fully intending to win.

  He laughed as though her answer were absurd. “You should give up before I hurt you. If only you knew how futile this is.”

  She was tempted to ask how, but stopped herself. Asking would only make her stalling obvious, even if it was true. she told herself. Then I will join them. Anyone in our way goes down.

  Fynn let out a soft sigh and slowly raised his hand, wagging his index finger left and right in a slow, dismissive rhythm, like a teacher correcting a particularly foolish child.

  He let out a tsk, his voice dripping with mock amusement. “You’re completely clueless if you truly think we’re your biggest obstacle out of this place.”

  Ana frowned. She had the distinct feeling he genuinely meant what he was saying. “What do you mean by that?”

  “I mean that you four have no way out of here.” As he spoke, he reached for something at his waist. For a brief moment, Ana feared it was the artifact Lydia had called a gun, and she tensed, ready to evade. But it was not that. What he pulled free was a familiar spherical artifact, the same one he and his allies had used back then to manipulate gravity. “So just lie down and surrender,” he warned as he activated it. A layer of white aura enveloped his body.

  Ana said nothing. She refused to waste breath or focus. She needed every scrap of energy she had left to think.

  “I’ll take that silence as a no,” he said, lunging forward.

  “Crap,” Ana muttered as she retreated, instantly realizing just how much faster he had become with the artifact active. Her mind raced. Should she use her ledger to restrict the artifact’s gravity effect? She remembered how sharply her MP had dropped already after abusing Windbust Array. Using the ledger now would push her dangerously close to collapse. But doing nothing meant being caught even faster.

  “Ledger, restrict his artifac—” she began, only to freeze.

  He used the ground itself to launch forward at an exaggerated speed. Less than a heartbeat later, he was on her, his hand clamping around her throat.

  “Got you,” he smirked.

  Ana reacted on instinct. She slashed upward with the dagger in her right hand, but he released her throat just long enough to knock the weapon aside with a precise strike. The dagger clattered uselessly away. Immediately after, his grip closed around her neck again. She swung with her other hand, but he blocked it easily while still holding the artifact. Then he drove his head forward.

  The headbutt sent her crashing to her knees. The world spun violently, her heartbeat thundering so loudly in her ears that she barely registered his voice.

  “I told you to give up without a fuss,” he scolded. “Now look at you.”

  Through the haze, Ana glared up at him, a rage burning hotter than anything she had ever felt. She had wanted people dead before, but never had she wanted to tear someone apart like she did now.

  “What’s with that stare?” he sneered, tightening his grip. “Want to ki—”

  He cut himself off mid word.

  Something caught his attention. He twisted sharply and raised his arm just as a loud bang echoed through the space. He staggered back, cursing, one arm raised to shield his face while blood streamed down the other.

  “Shit!”

  A second bang rang out. The artifact in his hand shattered into fragments. Panic flickered across his face as he retreated in a frantic, zigzagging pattern. No third bang came. Instead, from a distance, he hurled the ruined artifact back toward its source with terrifying accuracy.

  The projectile screamed through the air at nearly the same speed as Ana’s Windbust Array. Lydia reacted instantly, dropping low and rolling aside as it slammed into the ground where she had been standing moments before.

  Ana stared at her, relief washing over her, mixed with something more complicated. “You… what are you doing here?”

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  Lydia straightened, holding another pipe in one hand while casually blowing smoke from the still smoking artifact in the other. “What I’m doing here? Wasn’t this the plan all along? Take Uta and Charmy to safety, wait for him to be distracted, then end the fight with a surprise attack?”

  “Oh,” Ana said, stretching her numb right hand. She had expected something far less charitable, something along the lines of Lydia doubting her ability to win alone. Even if Lydia did not say it, Ana knew it was probably true.

  “Yep. That was the plan,” Ana said, playing along with a short chuckle.

  “A plan that still failed,” Lydia replied, gesturing toward Fynn, who had already healed his injuries using one of his innate healing abilities.

  “You little bitch,” he snarled, his eyes burning with fury as they locked onto Lydia. “You’re going to pay for that.”

  This time, there was no mistaking it. He was out for blood.

  “Well,” Lydia said calmly, glancing at Ana’s arm, “looks like there’s no procrastinating anymore.” She looked back at her. “How’s your arm?”

  “Fine. I can’t use it like I normally would, but I’ll manage,” Ana said, stretching her arm one last time before letting it fall to her side. “What about you?”

  She studied Lydia closely. Her stats were unchanged from earlier, neither diminished nor improved. That alone made it clear that, strictly speaking, Lydia was underqualified for a direct confrontation like this.

  Lydia did not answer. Instead, she said, “Write me a contract.”

  Ana frowned. “What?”

  “A contract,” Lydia repeated calmly. “I know you can do that. In exchange for permanently lowering my maximum SP by twenty, temporarily grant me forty additional points of offense. For just 120 seconds.”

  “I can’t do that. That’s something high-level law—”

  “I know. There's a restriction with that power. But you should be able to draft that contract for me…”

  Ana had heard plenty of praise about her talent as a lawyer. Along with that praise came constant talk of what members of that class could accomplish at the highest level. They were said to be able to create contracts on the fly, using far more elaborate and flexible terms. Terms that allowed them to impose restrictions without placing much strain on themselves. Some could even form terms without inflicting any handicap at all, or outsource the burden entirely. At her current level, Ana could only dream of such mastery. The same was true of what Lydia had demanded. Creating such a contract for herself was one thing, but creating one for another person was something else entirely.

  “That contract should be possible at your level, because I’m built differently,” the girl explained. “What I ask is something I would normally be able to do. But I can’t right now. Not without some help.”

  Ana looked briefly at the girl’s confident expression then said, “alright, but these terms….”

  The terms of that contract were extreme, even by the standards of a wannabe-lawyer like Ana.

  “Do it,” Lydia insisted. “I’m not a Highbreed or Verdenkind. What I lose from this matters far less to me than it would to any other person. So write the damn contract.”

  Ana opened her mouth to add something, but stopped. She saw it, in Lydia’s eyes. Her unwavering resolve was unmistakable. She was going to join this fight regardless, with or without help, and refusing would only make things worse.

  With a quiet exhale, Ana summoned her Scale and Ledger and began drafting the contract. As the girl had said, she was able to write without encountering the bottleneck she usually faced when attempting to draft unacceptable terms. The reason was simple, and Ana could feel it. It was the sheer absurdity of the terms themselves, terms that she not only drafted, but ultimately sealed.

  ---

  Name:

  Race:

  [Status]

  HP:

  MP:

  SP:

  Defense:

  Offense:

  ---

  Lydia’s stats were not the only thing that changed. Her body did as well. For some reason, the girl got smaller, looked younger. It felt as though the silver in her hair had receded, subtly stripping years from her appearance.

  “How’re you feeling?” Ana asked, unable to hide her concern.

  “Fine,” Lydia replied casually, then pointed past her. “Look.”

  Fynn stood seething, veins standing out as he glared at them. “Enough!” he barked. “I’ve had enough of this. No more games.” Whatever shock Ana’s earlier surprise attack had caused, it was gone now. What remained was pure intent.

  Lydia stepped forward, metal pipe swinging loosely at her side, a manic smile spreading across her face. “You heard him. He’s had enough. So have I.”

  “Let me handle him in close quarters. Blast him when you can,” Ana said, forcing confidence into her voice.

  Lydia did not answer. She only cast Ana a brief sidelong glance as she walked past her, her pace quickening as she took the position Ana suggested.

  As Lydia closed the distance, every step bringing her nearer to a man who looked fully ready to break her, Ana’s bravado crumbled. It fell apart the moment she realized she had no idea how this would actually play out. She trusted her own close combat ability, but the difference was clear. He was a monk, and his level exceeded hers.

  With barely half a dozen meters left between them, Ana improvised. She abandoned her earlier approach and faked an attack. It worked. Mid-charge, he sidestepped instinctively. Ana adjusted, turning the motion into a real throw and unleashing her final projectile with Windbust Array.

  This time, he did not dodge.

  The dagger struck with deadly force. It was unfortunately not deadly. He managed to raise his hand at the last instant, shielding his face. The blade punched clean through his palm, stopping inches from his eye. He only grunted, his fury locking onto Ana. Before he could retaliate, she detonated another Windbust Array directly into him. He was shoved back several meters but kept his footing.

  Their eyes met. He charged.

  Ana released another Windbust Array, but he cut through it just as he had during their first encounter, countering with a wind-based strike of his own. He closed in fast, forcing Ana to rush toward him or appear to. At the last moment, she propelled herself upward, soaring over him.

  He tried to pivot sharply to follow. It was a mistake.

  The turn exposed his back, and Lydia did not hesitate.

  “Bang!”

  True to her lectures to Ana, Lydia avoided vital organs and hit his left thigh.

  “Aarrgh!” he screamed, spinning around just in time to see Lydia discard the smoking artifact and charge at him, pipe clenched in both hands.

  She rapidly closed the gap and swung the metal pipe like a cudgel, aiming for his face. For a heartbeat, it looked like the blow would land. Then Fynn’s monkly reflexes shone again. Despite the damage to his legs, he stepped back with near perfect timing, the pipe missing him by inches.

  They slid past one another, eyes locking for a split second. Both repositioned.

  Lydia raised the pipe for a second strike, but before she could bring it down, Fynn lashed out with a sudden sidekick, an act Ana could barely believe he managed at all given his injuries.

  Through another impressive display of reaction, the kick aimed at Lydia’s side met the pipe head on, bending the metal slightly. Had he not been injured, a strike backed by the full strength of a level twelve monk would have sent her flying, but in his current state it only pushed her half a meter to the side.

  Lydia answered instantly. She raised the pipe and brought it down perpendicularly against his leg. The metal further warped around his tibia.

  His expression twisted. He felt that one.

  With a snarl, he ripped the dagger Ana had thrown earlier from the wound in his hand and slashed toward Lydia’s throat, but with unnatural grace she backflipped to avoid the strike, her gaze locking briefly with Ana’s in the process, and as she landed, Lydia immediately followed with a sidestep in perfect sync with Ana, who had scooped a dagger from the ground and hurled it with Windburst Array.

  Fynn reacted with terrifying speed. He turned and struck the flying dagger with his own. The impact shattered both blades, fragments scattering as several of his fingers were torn apart in the collision.

  Both girls flinched at the sight but did not pause.

  He stepped forward toward Lydia, who stood between him and Ana. Lydia backed off while Ana moved in the opposite direction, charging straight at him. He swung a blow that, at her current HP, would have killed her, but Ana managed to slip past both the strike and the following swipe. She noticed he was starting to slow.

  As Ana repositioned to stand between him and Lydia, he launched a third blow that once again missed. That, it seemed, was the opening Lydia had been waiting for. Like a bolt, she dashed past Ana, latched onto his extended arm, and rolled around it. Like a constrictor securing its prey, she locked his neck between her legs. Then, using the momentum he reflexively applied to free himself, she rolled outward, sending him rolling like a barrel toward Ana.

  “DAMN BITCH!” he roared, fury burning so hot it blinded him.

  He momentarily forgot Ana, who was already behind him, pipe in hand. The same one Lydia used before leaving Ana behind to handle him. Ana swung with all her might.

  WACK!

  The impact did not knock him out, as she would have hoped. He had high enough HP and defence to handle that.

  That was alright. She just had to swing again.

  Ana brought the pipe down again, smashing his face into the ground. Again. And again. The metal bent, warped beyond use. She discarded it and began stomping his head with her foot.

  “How about now, asshole! How about now!” she spat, fury overwhelming restraint.

  She stopped only when Lydia’s glare cut through the haze. Ana stepped back. Fynn lay motionless, alive she noted from the sounds he made but deeply unconscious.

  Lydia approached. Remembering what had happened earlier, Ana asked quickly, “You’re not going to heal him, are you?”

  “Heal him?” Lydia let out a dry, self-mocking laugh and kicked his side hard. “As if I’m in any shape to heal anyone.”

  Her legs gave out immediately after. She would have hit the floor if Ana had not caught her in time.

  “Lydia!” Ana said sharply. “You’re alright.”

  Remembering the settlement of 120 seconds they established, Ana appraised the girl.

  ---

  Name:

  Race:

  [Status]

  HP:

  MP:

  SP:

  Defense:

  Offense:

  ---

  Ana instantly located the issue: her maximum HP had not only gone down, her stats were at the floor. At Ana's appraisal skill level, she could not see the exact fatigue percentage of a person, but if she could, this girl was at her last percent—just like Ana.

  "You're alright?"

  "I’ll be honest with you, I'm not, but at least that bastard is taken care of," she said, venturing a weak kick to his side.

  "Yeah," Ana nodded, slinging the girl’s arm over her shoulder. From here, she looked even smaller, her hair almost missing all of its silver roots.