Chapter 53: The Ambush (3)

Beeran’s eyes went wide. Whatever composure he’d walked in with was gone completely. This close, Emeric could see he was younger than he’d looked from a distance. Not much older than Emeric himself.

"You’re going to kill us," Beeran said. Not a question.

The system pulsed again, quieter this time.

Emeric’s hand tightened on the dagger as the blade pressed harder against Beeran’s throat. A thin line of blood welled up beneath it.

"Please—" Beeran’s voice cracked. "We can pay you. Whatever you want. I’ll tell you who hired us—"

Beeran’s plea hung in the air, unanswered.

Emeric looked past him, at Ranga still curled around his ruined leg, blood pooling dark beneath him.

They’d have let him die in the dark, alone. They did not deserve any mercy.

He went to Jorin first.

The man didn’t beg. His eyes stared at Emeric with defiance as he drove the blade up under his ribs.

Jorin’s breath left him in a rush. His eyes stayed open, fixed on nothing, as his body went slack against the tunnel wall.

Sera screamed his name but he could not hear her. He was dead,

She scrambled backward.

"Please — please, I didn’t want any part of this, it was Beeran’s contract, I just — I just do what I’m told—"

Contract? So it wasn’t random.

Emeric didn’t answer her. He crossed the distance before she finished talking.

She got a hand up but it didn’t matter. The dagger went through her palm and into her throat in the same motion, and whatever else she’d meant to say came out as a wet, drowning sound instead of words.

She didn’t get back up.

Ranga was still trying to crawl. One good arm dragging himself toward the passage exit, leaving a smear of blood behind him.

Emeric caught his ankle and pulled him back.

"You humiliated me," Ranga had said, back when he still thought that mattered. Back when he still thought he was owed something.

"You tried to bury me alive," Emeric said. "Over gold."

Ranga twisted onto his back, his eyes pleading.

Emeric didn’t have mercy.

The second dagger came down through his sternum, and Ranga fell still.

[TARGETS ELIMINATED: 5]

Beeran didn’t wait for Emeric to turn to him. He moved the instant Emeric’s back was turned to him, faster than his

His sword was already half-drawn before Emeric’s caught him in the air.

The impact staggered him, but Beeran rolled with it instead of fighting the momentum, using the wall to catch himself and push off again. His sword cleared the scabbard.

"You think I’m weak?" Beeran snarled, ready to attack.

He came in low and fast, blade angled for Emeric’s ribs. Emeric twisted, caught the flat of it on his forearm — the impact shaking his hand for half a second, enough that his own dagger nearly slipped from his grip.

He wasn’t feeling any pain.

The wound burned hot and closed back instantly. The effects of the ring amped, he figured.

"You’re better than the others," Emeric said.

"I’m the leader for a reason." Beeran didn’t waste breath on more than that. He came again, a tight combination — a feint high, then the real strike low, aimed at Emeric’s hip.

Emeric read it a half-second too late. The blade caught him, a shallow line of fire opening along his side, and he hissed through his teeth as he pulled back out of range.

Beeran pressed the advantage, driving forward, forcing Emeric back down the passage, away from the others’ bodies. They were in a narrower stretch of tunnel where there was less room to maneuver.

"This is my rift," Beeran said, punctuating it with another strike, this one aimed at Emeric’s throat. "My contract. My kill."

Emeric ducked under it, felt the blade part the air above his head close enough to stir his hair, and drove upward with his dagger.

Beeran twisted away — not fast enough. The point caught his forearm, tore a line through muscle. Beeran grunted but didn’t drop the sword.

"You’re going to have to do better than that."

He was strong. Stronger than Emeric had given him credit for.

Emeric took another cut, this one across his shoulder, shallow but bleeding freely.

It closed in a few seconds.

His breathing had gone ragged. The daggers were suited for speed and precision, not for trading blows against a longer blade wielded by someone who actually knew how to fight.

He needed to close the distance. Get inside the sword’s reach, where the length stopped being an advantage.

Beeran swung again, a wide, sweeping arc meant to keep Emeric at range rather than land cleanly and Emeric didn’t retreat this time. He stepped into it.

The blade opened a gash across his ribs, worse than the first cut. It closed before he knew it but his plan worked. He sacrificed his body to get in. He was already past the sword’s edge, inside Beeran’s guard. He drove his dagger into the man’s chest.

Beeran dodged the attack, catching it with his shoulder instead.

Beeran’s free hand found Emeric’s throat, fingers digging in, and Emeric drove his elbow into the side of Beeran’s head once, twice, felt the grip loosen fractionally on the second hit.

Beeran bucked under him, trying to throw him off, and nearly succeeded — Emeric’s balance shifted, one knee sliding on the slime-slicked stone, and for a moment Beeran had the sword arm half-free, edge turning toward Emeric’s stomach.

Emeric caught the wrist, holding it firmly. The blade trembled between them, inches from his gut, Beeran’s whole body shaking with the effort of driving it home.

He kicked him off the ground, his back landing on the hard floor.

"Stay down," Emeric said, through gritted teeth.

His vision was getting worse now. His body felt like it was in overdrive.

"Make me."

Emeric slammed Beeran’s wrist against the stone floor, once, hard, and heard something give. The sword clattered free.

Beeran screamed, and Emeric didn’t let the sound stop him. He drove his fist into the side of Beeran’s jaw, and felt the man’s head snap sideways. The fight left him instantly.