Brizogia’s head twitched upon her neck in a manner that a human’s head absolutely shouldn’t, and it seemed that her anger had spilled over into confusion.

  “Are you just… Are you just mad? Do you have soot on the brain?”

  “Perhaps it would be easier to say that than to explain why I think the way I do. But, alright. I’ll meet you halfway. I’ll put aside everything I’ve heard on the street, I’ll even put aside the bad first impression your helpers have made on me,” Krahe acquiesced, glancing around to the spots where she was absolutely certain Brizogia had stationed her men, even if she couldn’t see them, before resting her gaze back on the Silversword administrator. She almost seemed hopeful, in a “wow, she’s actually falling for it” kind of way.

  “And even still, I don’t see myself working for or with you. Because…”

  Krahe leaned across the table and blew arrha smoke in Brizogia’s face.

  “...I know what you are.”

  Before anything could take place, Krahe skimmed twice, away from the table. It was in pieces a half-second later, and the lower half of Brizogia’s face had sprung open like a malfunctioning full-mouth prosthetic. She lashed out with her hand, and one of the rings upon her fingers came alive — a dozen silver blades sprung into existence, firing off in Krahe’s direction with the velocity and supersonic cracks of high-caliber bullets. Seven missed. The remainder passed through her now-immaterial form.

  Krahe didn’t flee. Not yet. She had seen the silver swords take shape, and she had seen how they flew, how they shot out immediately, with perfect consistency at the same exact moment, with the same timing between shots. Brizogia’s second barrage, more considered, had greater variety of timing between shots, but it only revealed the fact they couldn’t stick around after formation, or at least this wasn’t their default mode of function. Were she asked, Krahe couldn’t say why she was certain of this, she just knew based on what she saw and what she felt through her spiritual sense.

  Another aspect of the swords’ fundamental design that became a flaw against Krahe was their very shape — as they took form, they subtly aligned themselves towards their future trajectory, giving the slightest tell. Not long ago, Krahe would not have been able to notice this, but now, between this tell and pure visual reaction speed, she could reasonably well predict where each sword would go — and apply that knowledge to weave between them without the need to dive. Krahe went whipping back and forth like a bamboo in a windstorm, bending every-which-way in an unnatural and counterintuitive manner, sharp jets of flame bursting from her left arm and threads of thick smoke building up a haze around her, obscuring her shape.

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  Three salvos. Less than ten seconds. Her entropy was getting up there. But she wasn’t satisfied. She didn’t feel like ending this yet, even if Brizogia was already showing signs of wanting to pull out another card, of becoming frustrated enough to do something seriously dangerous.

  Krahe hardened her left hand and, dialing in on a particular sword’s trajectory, she punched it out of the air — an uppercut that struck the flat of its blade where it met the somewhat superfluous handle. With the force of the impact still reverberating up her arm, as the blade it spun and glistened in the sun, she grabbed it, and, gripping it with a tar-tendril, she whipped it at Brizogia’s head. The latter shot the sword out of mid-air with another of her own, despite the fact Krahe’s stolen sword had already begun fraying out of existence rather than risk harming its owner.

  She circled around, closing the distance, leaping upon one of the unbroken tables, and from it, she dive-kicked towards Brizogia, holding out her hand as far as it would go. Brizogia moved with an alacrity unpermitted to mere men, but she was too late. Krahe emerged from her dive after another salvo of silver swords passed through her. As the Scarlet Star jewel drank of her thauma, a subtle change took place, the slightest shifting of its hue. The flash of its activation was, to Brizogia, akin to the glare of some third presence, filled with gleeful cruelty. That phantom sensation vanished in an instant, giving way to the very real, tyrannical presence of the one upon whose finger the ring sat. The irresistible force-wave threw Brizogia to the ground, crumpled the furniture like nothing, and, over the course of a few seconds, mercilessly pressed her into the cobbles.

  It was just a moment. But in that moment, the Silversword administrator’s sense of authority crumpled, even as her wards protected her from all harm. She was unharmed, but unquestionably subjugated. Krahe didn’t hang around, instead moving with the shockwave’s expansion, tauntingly sweeping her gaze across various windows, alcoves, and doors. It was a half-step from openly shouting: “Well? Aren’t you gonna chase me?!"

  And oh, did they chase her. They knew this part of the city, but so did she, and she knew their habits. This was not so different from the cat-and-mouse games they had played in the preceding days. And just like during those days, this day, too, Krahe led Brizogia’s lackeys by the nose. Certainly, it was significantly more difficult to keep ahead of them when they didn’t care about subtlety and fully leveraged their own enhanced mobility tools, but at the end of the day, a group of five still chased her into the killing house.

  One by one, they rushed into the basement — all but one, who remained outside as a lookout. In the twilit basement, normal sight could just about make out the silhouettes of objects. In terms of low-light vision. As an Inheritor, Krahe’s natural low-light vision had always been marginally superior, and with her recent enhancements, she could make out most detail and colour in the basement’s conditions. She knew that she was not unique in this matter — of the five individuals who had followed her down here, one had eyes that glowed in an unnatural manner. He actively scanned the room, clearly checking for anything hidden by the darkness. This man had followed her a few times in the night, and she had noticed his modified eyes back then. Besides glowing eyes, he also wore a Silversword Agency pendant on his neck and his natural hair was dyed silver — he had concealed both of these traits when he had been tailing her.

  Krahe was not so sloppy as to rely on the dark. It was a red herring.

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