I leapt to the left, dodging his wide arc slice, the blade’s hum slicing the air a fraction of a second behind me. Sparks danced as it scraped the stone wall. My shoes scuffed across the ground as I twisted mid-air. Landing my right foot on the wall with practiced precision, I kicked off and whipped my left heel into his jaw with the greatest speed I could muster. The impact cracked like thunder—but Geralt tanked it. His head barely tilted. His eyes didn’t even flinch.

  I grimaced, pulling my leg back instantly and backing up even further down the hallway. My breaths grew shallower. The corridor narrowed. I was losing space—fast. My mind flicked to Zion, limp but still there. I didn't want to stand near him. I wasn’t sure if he could attack... but I didn't want to test it.

  That speed on that kick, it was nothing! Maybe thirty percent of my maximum. I could feel the restraint in my own limbs, the hesitation, the dull pain lingering from earlier fights. I tensed my soleus muscle, hardening it like a compressed spring. Without warning, I flashed in Geralt’s direction—a burst of raw motion—and drove a punch into his face.

  It connected solid. I could feel the resistance ripple down my forearm.

  I sped past him, skidding to a stop on the other end. I glanced back. His sword... it was right in my flash path. I looked down at my fist—it was bruised. Deep purple already forming. He had timed it that precisely?

  He spun his sword smoothly, wrist unwavering, the blade glinting under the flickering hallway torchlight.

  "I can reach you when you're that slow." he said calmly.

  My stomach tightened. My speed is faltering further!

  Something grasped my right ankle.

  I glanced down, eyes widening in disbelief. It was Zion. Somehow, despite his wounds, he had crawled a few feet in that instant. Blood trailed behind him like smeared ink on paper. I struggled to move my right ankle. I couldn't. Not even a bit.

  He began to tighten it further. My muscles twitched. I couldn’t break free in a year, let alone the few seconds I have now.

  Geralt was already on his way. I saw his sword swing, wide and deadly. Its edge gleamed silver as it threatened to cut me in half, from hip to shoulder.

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  You know what? Maybe it’s fine. Maybe I can reunite with her. This pain I’ve borne for the last two years—it can finally end. The thought brought me a strange calm. My muscles slackened.

  The sword was mere inches from my hip.

  I whispered, "Soon... my love." A single tear broke free, sliding down my cheek, warm and stinging.

  "Don’t you dare, idiot!" someone said.

  Caleb? Was he watching?

  Suddenly, stone exploded to my right. Caleb barged in, breaking the stone wall with a shoulder slam that sent fragments flying. He was off in his entrance, not quite in between me and the sword swing—but close enough to shift the outcome.

  It was enough for Geralt to worry. His sword halted mid-swing with a sharp clank. He turned sharply, eyes narrowing, ready to face this new threat.

  Caleb yelled, "Take this!"

  He threw an axe in my direction. The blur of spinning steel flew past Geralt’s head. Geralt’s gaze flicked to it instinctively.

  I raised my arm and caught it out of the air. The familiar weight sent a rush through my nerves. Hey. This was Ewan’s lightsteel axe.

  I crouched, shifting my stance with a sudden burst of alertness, and raised the axe above Zion’s arm. He saw the gleam and pulled his arm back instantly, releasing me. I stumbled to my feet. I was free. But my legs trembled. Even with a blade, my speed right now wasn’t enough. My strength wasn’t enough.

  I grit my teeth, heart pounding. No. I had one option.

  I blitzed past Geralt, putting everything I had into speed and form, and reached Caleb’s side. He was waiting, arms outstretched. Caleb lifted me off the ground, hoisting me like a spear in a shot put position.

  Caleb said, "You ready for our special move?"

  The rage inside me surged again, the thought of killing Toda reigniting the fire in my chest. I tensed my soleus muscles. "Yeah."

  Geralt saw it coming. He held his sword tight, both hands gripping the hilt. He raised it and held it flat like a wall of metal. But it wasn’t going to work. Not this time.

  This axe—at the speed I’m going to be at—can destroy any defense.

  Caleb threw me with all his might, every muscle in his body surging with power. At the same time, I leapt off his hand, my body spinning violently, faster than I’d ever moved before—far beyond my maximum speed.

  I became a blur, a human cyclone with the edge of an axe leading the way.

  I decapitated Geralt in a flash of motion. Blood sprayed the walls. His body twisted, sliced apart in multiple places in a single instant. His sword was mere putty, bent and cracked like a toy.

  Zion, still on his knees, his face calm, accepted his fate. He didn’t move, didn’t flinch.

  He was decapitated a moment later. His head fell silently to the floor.

  I splat against the darksteel door protecting the Grillir. My body thudded into it hard, like flesh against armor. Unless the area was wide open, I’d crash into something—this much was always guaranteed. I will survive... but I can’t fight anymore. My limbs are spent. My vision flickered. My fate was better than those two.

  Those two legends fell at once.

  The Knight of Darkness, and the Beast of Peace.

  They fell to the Maniac's and the Demon Buddha’s combined efforts. Their ultimate technique.

  Flash Guillotine.