Chapter 52: The Ambush (2)

Three down. Sera and Jorin’s screaming were the only sounds left in the passage, along with the distant drip of cave water and Emeric’s own breathing.

A woman had been crouched near the tunnel mouth this whole time, half-hidden behind a slab of rock — staff in hand, robes marked with the pale blue sigil of a Guild-certified healer. She’d gone unnoticed in the chaos, exactly the way healers were trained to.

She wasn’t hiding anymore. She was already moving toward Jorin, hands glowing faintly with restorative mana, murmuring something under her breath.

[THREAT ASSESSMENT: NONCOMBATANT — HEALER CLASS]

[WARNING: HEALER CAN RESTORE DOWNED HOSTILES TO FIGHTING CONDITION]

[RECOMMENDATION: ELIMINATE BEFORE HEALING COMPLETES]

Emeric didn’t hesitate. A downed enemy wasn’t actually down if someone could put them back together in seconds. He crossed the distance before she’d finished the first line of her spell.

"Elise, don’t—" Beeran’s voice was too late.

She looked up right as Emeric reached her. Young — younger than the others, maybe. Her eyes went wide, the glow around her hands flickering out as her concentration broke, hands coming up not to fight but to shield her face, a useless, instinctive gesture.

"Wait, I wasn’t going to—"

He didn’t wait. The dagger crossed her throat in one motion, and whatever she’d meant to say died with the rest of her.

She dropped.

A roar tore through the passage behind him.

Emeric turned in time to see a mountain of a man barrel out from the same shadowed alcove Elise had been hiding in. His plate armor scraping against stone and a tower shield already coming up. He didn’t stopfor anything.

He reached her and dropped to his knees beside her, gathering her up in his arms, his whole massive frame shaking.

"No. No, no, no—" His voice broke apart entirely, a sound too big and too wrecked for a man his size. "Elise. Elise, look at me—"

She didn’t. She wasn’t going to.

For a moment he just held her, his shield fallen at his side, his shoulders heaving with something between grief and rage that hadn’t decided which one it wanted to be yet.

Then he set her down. Gently — too gently, given what came next — and rose to his full height, and there was nothing gentle left in him at all.

"You," he said. His voice had gone flat, stripped of everything but intent. "You’re dead."

He came atEmeric with fury and momentum. Emeric barely got clear of the first swing, the shield’s edge close enough to feel the wind of it against his cheek.

[HOSTILE DETECTED: HEAVY ARMOR CLASS]

[THREAT LEVEL: ELEVATED — PROCEED WITH CAUTION]

The tank didn’t attack like the others. He didn’t need to be fast. Every swing was a wall coming down, and Emeric’s daggers weren’t built to stop a wall.

He circled instead of meeting the charges head-on, letting the big man’s momentum carry him past, again and again. Each near miss shook the tunnel.

"Stand still," the man snarled, swinging again, the shield’s rim grinding rock into dust where Emeric had been a half-second before.

"You’d like that."

The man roared again and threw his whole weight behind the next swing, and this time Emeric didn’t dodge. He caught the shield’s edge with both daggers. The force was heavy. He swiftly deflected it into a rock beside him.

The wood beneath the metal facing cracked. Then split.

The shield came apart in two pieces, one clattering uselessly into the dark, the other still hanging useless from the tank’s numbed arm.

He stared at the ruined shield for one second, the first flicker of doubt Emeric had seen on him — and then he swung his free fist instead, a blow that would have caved in Emeric’s skull if it had landed.

It didn’t. Emeric ducked under it, came up inside the man’s guard, too close now for that reach to matter, and drove a dagger up under his jaw.

The man staggered but he didn’t fall. His hands came up, closing around Emeric’s throat with crushing, desperate strength. For a moment the pressure was building behind Emeric’s eyes, his vision starting to grey at the edges.

He didn’t fight the grip. He reached instead, found the angle he needed, and twisted.

The crack echoed off the cave walls, louder than anything that had come before it.

The hands went slack. The man’s whole enormous frame folded, first to his knees, then sideways, coming to rest beside the healer he’d tried and failed to protect.

Emeric stood over both of them, gasping, one hand pressed to his own throat where the bruises were already forming.

Beeran hadn’t moved.

He was watching like he has been doing earlier, except there was no confidence in his glare this time. His eyes were wide, jaw tight, weapon still sheathed at his hip like he’d forgotten it was there.

"You’re not E-rank," Beeran said. His voice had lost its edge. "There’s no way you are. What are you?"

Emeric stepped over the man clutching his ruined calf, avoiding the blood that was pooling into a dark pond against the cave floor.

"You sealed me in with a boss monster," Emeric said. His voice came out flat. Distant, almost like it belonged to someone else. "You wanted me dead so you could sell what I earned."

"It wasn’t—" Beeran’s hand finally moved toward his sword. "It was just ..."

But Emeric could tell that he was trying to buy time. He didn’t let him draw his sword.

He crossed the last few feet between them in a single stride, faster than Beeran’s hand could clear the scabbard, and drove his shoulder into the man’s chest. Beeran hit the wall. His head cracked against stone hard enough that his eyes lost focus for half a second.

That was all Emeric needed.

He caught Beeran’s wrist before the sword could come free, twisting it until he heard something snap. Beeran’s shout cut off into a strangled gasp.

The sword hit the ground.

Emeric had a dagger that was at his throat before it stopped ringing against the stone.