Nothing Ever Comes Easy

She descended the stairs.

The structure was designed so that ordinary footsteps would echo, instantly alerting anyone below that someone was coming down.

If they'd gone to the trouble of building a hidden staircase, there had to be at least one escape route.

She wanted to let as few slip through as possible.

She'd have Yohane arrange to get them all arrested afterward.

They could trump up whatever charges they needed. These were the kind of people who'd crumble under the slightest scrutiny anyway.

Corpses would be a hassle, but live bodies could still be useful.

The staircase was a switchback, folding back on itself every few steps so you couldn't see what lay below.

The stairs were stone, the kind of place that should have been freezing, but it was warm.

The deeper she went, the more pronounced it became. Were they running some kind of heating down here?

Moving silently slowed her progress to a crawl.

After the sixth landing, she finally spotted a corridor leading deeper in.

At its end, she could see a room.

The men she'd knocked out upstairs were bottom-rung.

They'd been no challenge at all, but the ones waiting beyond this point wouldn't be so easy.

She crept closer. From deeper in, she could hear voices chatting and laughing.

Four, judging by the voices.

They hadn't caught on to the ambush yet.

No matter how much she prided herself on being a skilled assassin, a head-on fight while outnumbered could go either way.

If even one was on her level, things could turn ugly fast.

She wanted to capitalize on this advantage of being undetected and take them all down at once.

She edged forward as close as she could without being noticed.

From her belt pouch, she pulled out a smoke bag and a ball packed with gunpowder and fine iron shrapnel, then kicked the smoke bag into the room.

The smoke was a mix of flour and quicklime. The powder burst from the bag and spread across the room, temporarily blinding everyone.

Shouts erupted from within.

They were panicking at the sudden smokescreen.

She lit the fuse on the gunpowder ball and lobbed it in after.

The powder charge was small, not enough to kill, but the fine iron shrapnel mixed in made it perfect for wounding.

She retreated to the stairway to avoid the blast.

The gunpowder detonated with a sharp crack.

Iron fragments clattered to the floor at her feet.

Then, a beat later, screams.

She didn't need to see them to know they were in complete disarray.

Before the chaos could settle and while the smoke was thinning, she slipped into the room.

She immediately vaulted to the wall and counted the people from above.

Five. That matched the number who'd entered.

Three were hunched over and crouching, while a fourth was trying to tend to them.

Wide open, all of them.

But she couldn't touch those four.

Because there was one man. Completely unscathed, arms folded, glaring straight at her.

He hadn't flinched at the smoke or the explosion. He'd been watching for an intruder the whole time.

Lean, but solidly built.

Long legs suggested considerable height.

"Tch."

She clicked her tongue.

She'd accounted for the possibility that at least one might be a real fighter, but having it confirmed was a pain and a half.

She ignored the other four and moved along the wall toward the man at the back.

Both hands reached behind her. She drew two daggers and struck.

She slashed outward in an arc.

The man, still seated, snatched a pair of katars he'd propped against the wall beside him and deflected Finn's attack with ease.

"I always told them never to let their guard down. Looks like they're due for retraining."

He rose slowly to his feet.

That alone carried a weight to it. No question, this one was dangerous.

"These methods… you're no adventurer. A fellow professional, I'd say. State your name before you die."

"Don't run your mouth. So you blocked one little ambush."

She tapped her right toe against the ground. Her body felt good.

To keep him from reading her movements through her breathing, she held her breath and shifted her weight forward.

She'd already noted his height, but his arms were long too.

The reach difference was enormous.

"If you won't give a name, so be it. Take the name of Fundel the Ironbone with you to the grave."

Fundel the Ironbone.

One of Partilgar's executives, if she recalled.

He was supposed to lead their operations teams.

(What's an executive doing showing up personally for a nothing job like this?)

She cursed him silently.

There was no time to waste.

If the ones behind her recovered and rejoined the fight, she'd lose any chance of winning.

She loaded her toes and hit top speed from the first step.

Her top speed was fast enough that opponents simply lost sight of her.

Even someone with trained dynamic vision would struggle to react.

And indeed, Fundel couldn't track her.

She took his back and drove her right-hand dagger at his nape.

She couldn't afford to think about taking this one alive.

But the dagger was caught.

Without even turning around, Fundel crossed his katars behind his back and stopped the blade cold.

"Impressive speed. But your targeting is far too predictable."

He'd read the strike and committed to the block.

That move had finished almost every opponent she'd used it on. That was precisely why she'd come to rely on it.

If she'd aimed somewhere else, it would have been over.

Fundel knocked the dagger aside, spun around, and swung his katars.

Seething at her blunder, she dodged every strike.

The katars traced vicious angles.

Each evasion pushed her posture further out of alignment.

It was as if he could read her every move.

Even so, she weathered the storm.

She deflected a katar aimed at her throat with her dagger.

In pure combat ability, she had the edge. But in the unquantifiable realms of battle instinct and experience, her opponent had her beat.

She was reminded of the one who raised her.

No matter how strong she grew, no matter how much the one who raised her aged, she'd never once won.

Finn scoffed through her nose.

"So what? You're just a little tougher than the rest."

If she could ever fight that person again, she'd put them down for good.

That thought had driven her to develop a technique.

She hadn't expected to use it here, but it was clear this wasn't an opponent she could afford to hold back against.

"Let me grade your life's performance for you."

She relaxed every muscle and stood naturally.