# Chapter 30:
**"I don't want peace.**
Krist spun on his heel in a single, fluid motion, bringing the wooden rod in front of him. His right hand shifted slightly upward, gripping the lower portion as though he intended to pull it away from the rest.
His right hand clamped onto the grip while his left hand seized the sheath, twisting the concealed brass locking mechanism. A crisp *SNICK* echoed through the kitchen as he drew the hidden blade two inches free—just as a dark figure lunged out from the shadow of the pantry.
The intruder barely had time to react.
A sharp movement flashed before his eyes.
The intruder recoiled violently, hopping backward two full paces as his eyes widened in sheer disbelief behind his tactical mask.
He stared down at his hands, where the heavy, chloroform-soaked cloth he had prepared was now sliced cleanly in two halves—shredded so effortlessly by the rising steel that the force of his own momentum had almost thrown him face-first onto the tip.
What the hell?
The intruder slowly raised his eyes toward the wooden rod in Krist's hands.
The object he had mistaken for a harmless decoration wasn't what it appeared to be.
It was a sword.
More specifically, a rapier concealed inside a wooden scabbard,
The heavy, unassuming wood Krist had pulled off the console wasn't a decorative rod at all. It was a custom-milled scabbard housing a lethal, military-grade rapier—forged with a razor-thin diamond edge and disguised as polished mahogany, crafted so cleverly that anyone who didn't know its secret would mistake it for an ordinary decorative rod.
The intruder's eyes widened further.
"Sweet mother of God..." the intruder gasped, his voice raspy behind the fabric. "That's a real blade..."
His voice escaped before he could stop himself.
He had come prepared for a young man who, according to the information he'd gathered, would be relatively easy to subdue. He had expected resistance, perhaps, but nothing that would require him to reconsider his entire approach within the first few seconds.
And yet, here he was, staring at a sword that had sliced through his carefully prepared cloth as though it were nothing more than tissue paper.
How had things gone wrong so quickly?
To understand that, he had to go back a few minutes.
He had entered the mansion through the back door.
The door had been unlocked, and with Krist in the living room, he had considered it an opportunity too good to ignore.
His plan had been simple: slip inside unnoticed, find Krist, render him unconscious, and get him out of the mansion before anyone realized what had happened.
But just as he was about to close the door behind him, Krist turned his head.
Their eyes hadn't met, but something about Krist's expression had made the intruder freeze.
Krist was looking in his direction as though he had sensed something unusual.
The intruder immediately retreated into a nearby shadow, pressing himself against the wall until he was certain he had gone unnoticed.
From his hiding place, he watched Krist carefully.
Krist glanced at the door for a moment before bending down to place his plate of food on the center table.
Then he stood and walked toward the long hardwood media console beneath the mounted television.
The intruder watched with growing curiosity as Krist reached for what appeared to be a decorative wooden rod resting on the console.
Krist pulled it free.
Had the intruder not witnessed the movement himself, he would never have guessed that the wooden piece could be detached from the furniture.
Krist held it like a baton and walked toward the back door.
He opened it, glanced outside, and looked in both directions.
Finding nothing unusual, he closed the door and locked it from the inside.
The intruder remained perfectly still in his hiding place.
He watched Krist turn his back and begin walking away.
From the way Krist moved, the intruder assumed the young man had relaxed.
Perfect.
He had been waiting for an opportunity like this.
Slowly, he reached into his pocket and retrieved a piece of cloth. He had already applied a sedative to it, intending to use it to incapacitate Krist before the young man could put up any meaningful resistance.
He wrapped the two ends of the cloth around his hands and carefully stepped out of the shadows.
One step.
Then another.
Krist was still facing away from him.
The intruder continued advancing, his movements measured and silent.
All he needed was to get close enough to cover Krist's nose and mouth before he could react.
A few more steps, and it would be over.
Then Krist spoke.
"Amateur."
The intruder stopped.
For a brief moment, he wondered whether he had imagined it.
What did he just say?
Before he could make sense of the word, Krist stomped his right foot against the floor.
A low hum followed.
The intruder's expression changed instantly.
He had been discovered.
Panic seized him.
Rather than retreat, he lunged forward, desperate to complete the job before Krist could react. He thrust the cloth toward Krist's face, intending to incapacitate him immediately.
But Krist was already moving.
He adjusted his grip on the wooden rod and spun around, raising it as though to block the incoming cloth.
At the same time, his right hand pulled against the lower section.
Click!
The wooden covering shifted.
A blade emerged.
The intruder's forward momentum betrayed him.
The cloth struck the exposed rapier and split cleanly in two.
He continued moving forward for another fraction of a second, nearly throwing himself onto the blade before he managed to spring backward.
He landed several steps away, breathing sharply.
What the hell?
His eyes remained fixed on the weapon.
"Sweet mother of God..." the intruder gasped, his voice raspy behind the fabric. "That's a real blade..."
Krist merely smiled.
With an almost casual movement, he smoothly drew the needle-sharp rapier fully from its sheath.revealing the full length of the blade. The polished steel caught the ambient kitchen light,
Krist raised the wooden scabbard in his left hand, assuming a dual-blade stance. "So... who bought your services tonight? Let me guess—Billy?"
He watched the intruder's eyes closely, but there wasn't even a flicker of recognition.
"Ah. Not Billy," Krist mused, tilting his head with a thoughtful grin. "Then it must be his dear father—Adams."
The intruder's pupils dilated instantly.
It was only a brief reaction, almost imperceptible, but Krist noticed it.
Interesting.
He caught himself, quickly reaching to his thigh holsters and drawing a pair of heavy, serrated combat knives with a metallic *SCHWING*. He fell into a low tactical stance, his gaze turning icy.
"Look, kid," the man said, trying to keep his voice steady. "I'm not here to put a bullet in you. Just drop the antique sword, put your hands behind your head, and come quietly. And they will be no problem Nobody has to bleed tonight."
Krist's grin stretched wider, turning into something raw, feral, and unhinged.
Krist glanced at the knives.
Then he looked back at the man.
"Really?"
"That's right. So why don't you put that thing down and come with me peacefully? There's no reason for either of us to make this difficult."
For several seconds, Krist said nothing.
Then he chuckled.
"You sneaked into my house."
He raised one finger.
"That's already bad enough."
A second finger followed.
"But somehow, you managed to make it worse by getting caught sneaking up on me."
His smile slowly transformed into a wide grin.
"And now you're standing in my kitchen, holding two knives, telling me that you don't want to hurt me."
Krist shook his head in amusement.
"Do you honestly expect me to believe that?"
The intruder tightened his grip on the knives.
Krist's expression changed.
The amusement remained, but something more unsettling had crept into his eyes.
"Let me tell you something for free."
He raised the rapier and shifted his feet into a combat stance again.
"The moment I activate the mansion's lockdown, there's only one thing you need to understand."
The intruder's eyes narrowed.
"And what's that?"
Krist's grin widened.
"You're not leaving."
He stepped closer, closing the distance between them inch by inch.
"I activated the house lockdown for a reason. And it definitely wasn't to negotiate."
The intruder's heart skipped a beat. Looking into Krist's eyes, he saw zero fear—only a terrifying, predatory confidence. The kid held the rapier in a textbook classical dueling guard, his balance perfect, his guard impenetrable.
"What... what reason?" the intruder asked nervously, adjusting his grip on the twin knives.
"Isn't it obvious?" Krist whispered, his eyes flashing in the gloom. "I don't want peace. I want problems. *And since you've given it to me why will I let you go? After all peace is no fun.*"
Then Krist attacked.
The distance between them vanished in an instant.
The intruder barely managed to raise his knives before the first strike came at him.
CLANG!
Metal rang through the kitchen.
The force of the impact pushed him backward.
Before he could regain his balance, Krist launched another attack.
And another.
The intruder was forced onto the defensive, desperately blocking and redirecting the incoming strikes as he retreated.
Shit!
He barely stopped a thrust aimed toward his upper body.
Shit! Shit!
The rapier thrust out like a strike from a lunging viper. The sheer velocity of the attack caught the mercenary off guard—he barely managed to cross his twin combat knives in a frantic X-block to catch the blade.
*CLANG!*
*Shit! Why is he so fast?!* the man panicked, his arms trembling under the leverage.
Krist moved far faster than he had anticipated.
Every time the intruder thought he had found an opening, another attack came from a different angle, forcing him to abandon his counterattack and defend himself.
He tried to create some distance, but Krist wouldn't allow it.
Strike after strike drove him backward.
His shoes slid against the kitchen floor as he struggled to keep his balance.
Then, just as he managed to parry another attack, he realized something that made his stomach tighten.
He had been pushed into a corner.
When the hell did that happen?
He glanced over his shoulder.
There was nowhere to go.
Krist was already moving again.
The rapier shot toward his neck.
The intruder instinctively raised one knife to intercept it.
CLANG!
The weapons collided.
But the moment he felt the pressure against his blade, he realized his mistake.
Krist's weapon had a longer reach, allowing him to control the distance between them. Worse, the intruder couldn't generate enough leverage in his cramped position to push the rapier away.
He was losing.
And he was losing badly.
Desperate, he released the knife he had used to block the strike.
The sudden loss of resistance allowed Krist's rapier to continue through the space where the blade had been.
Using that brief opening, the intruder twisted sideways and escaped the corner.
For a split second, he thought he had succeeded.
Then Krist recovered.
Almost immediately.
The rapier returned to position, and Krist pursued him before he could catch his breath.
The intruder's eyes widened.
You've got to be kidding me!
He now had only one knife.
And against Krist's longer weapon, that disadvantage was becoming painfully obvious.
The fight turned into a desperate struggle.
*SLASH! SLASH!*
"Dammit! Fuck!" the man cursed as red lines bloomed across his tactical jacket—shallow, precise cuts slicing his shoulders, forearms, and thighs.
He had entered the mansion believing he could finish the job quickly.
Now he was struggling simply to keep Krist away from him.
Seeing an opening, he bolted toward the kitchen door. Panic setting in, the intruder backpedaled frantically into the kitchen, lunging for the service exit door. He grabbed the handle and yanked.
It didn't budge. The automated lockdown deadbolts held solid.
Hearing footsteps rushing up behind him,
He spun around.
Krist was already approaching.
The intruder barely managed to dodge a strike aimed at his right arm, the arm holding his remaining knife.
The blade passed close enough to make him recoil.
He had to do something.
Anything.
His eyes landed on a nearby chair.
Without hesitation, he grabbed it with his free hand and hurled it at Krist.
The chair spun through the air.
Krist didn't retreat.
Krist didn't dodge. He brought both hands onto the hilt of the rapier, stepped into the arc, and executed a clean, vertical diagonal cleave.
*SHHH-CRACK!*
The heavy wooden chair split perfectly in half mid-air, both pieces flying past Krist's shoulders and crashing uselessly to the floor behind him.
The intruder stared at the cleanly severed chair, his jaw dropping beneath his mask. "What the... how the hell did a rapier cutting through solid oak?!"
"Ho-how sharp is that thing?"
He couldn't comprehend what he had just witnessed.
A single swing.
One clean cut.
And the chair had been split apart as though the blade had barely encountered any resistance.
Krist glanced at the broken pieces.
Then he looked back at the intruder.
"Even if I told you, you wouldn't live long enough to understand it,"
Krist took a stand to continue his assort
"STAY BACK!" the man screamed, scrambling backward toward the doorway leading into the main living room. In a last-ditch effort, he threw his remaining combat knife straight at Krist's chest.
Krist casually flicked his wrist. The flat of his rapier struck the airborne knife with a crisp *PING*, sending it spinning harmlessly across the floor..
Krist glided forward, instantly cutting off the doorway to the living room and trapping the mercenary back inside the kitchen perimeter.
"Sorry," Krist murmured, watching the man pant against the counter. "I prefer to keep the blood splatters contained to the tile. Carpet is a pain to clean.so I intend to keep our little clash inside the kitchen."
The intruder backed away until his spine hit the locked pantry door. He was entirely disarmed, bleeding from half a dozen shallow cuts, and cornered.
Krist looked at the man, the wild grin fading from his face into an expression of utter boredom. He let out a disappointed sigh, lowering the rapier. "Honestly... this stopped being fun three minutes ago."
Without breaking eye contact, Krist reached his left hand smoothly into his hoodie pocket, pulling out the ultra-compact, toy-like sidearm he had retrieved from beneath the coffee table.
He didn't hesitate. He pulled the tiny trigger.
*PFFFFT!*
A compressed air hiss echoed in the small room. A micro-needle launched from the barrel, embedding itself deeply into the mercenary's upper thigh.
The man gasped, clapping a hand over the tiny puncture wound. Within two seconds, a wave of intense, neuro-toxic paralysis surged through his nervous system. His legs buckled like jelly, and he collapsed heavily onto his back against the floorboards, completely incapable of moving a single muscle.
The mercenary lay paralyzed, his wide, terrified eyes fixed on the tip of the rapier resting inches from his throat.
"What kind of insane kid... would pick up a real weapon just to check whether someone was outside?" the man managed to croak out through his stiffening jaw.
Krist stepped over him, looking down with a cold, unbothered expression.
"The kind of kid," Krist whispered, raising sneaker, "who has survived enough hits to know that paranoia is just another word for staying alive."
Krist brought his sneaker down hard onto the man's chin, knocking his lights out instantly, plunging the kitchen back into absolute silence.