The world had narrowed to steel, screams, and the pounding of blood in Shunya's ears.
The bandits did not stop. They came in waves, some desperate, some cruel, some laughing as though the siege were nothing more than sport. For every man that fell, two more seemed to push forward.
The merchant compound's gates shook under repeated strikes. Timber groaned, splinters flying with each heavy blow. Behind Shunya, frightened voices begged, pleaded, cursed.
"How long can this last?" one of the merchants whispered, voice cracking. "How much longer before they break through?"
No one answered him.
Naomi's sword gleamed red in the torchlight, her movements as sharp as the air she cut through. But even she was slowing. Her steps were still precise, her swings still deadly, but her breathing was louder now, harsher, the first cracks showing in her relentless rhythm.
"Keep your guard up," she snapped at Shunya without looking back.
