“Looks like you've got trouble, Mr. Carl.”
Before the words had even faded, Rosie’s left hand brushed against her waist.
Three iron daggers were drawn in the exact same instant, followed immediately by rapid flicks of her right wrist.
Whoosh! Whoosh-whoosh!
Three silver flashes shot toward Carl's face and chest with infinitesimal gaps between them.
Strike first to gain the upper hand, strike second and suffer the consequences.
In the very second the daggers flew, a small cloud of dust exploded beneath Rosie’s feet.
Combat Skill—Charge.
Her target was the young guard to Carl’s left.
The young guard had barely drawn his sword and hadn't had time to adjust his stance before the figure suddenly materializing in front of him made his pupils contract in shock.
Instinctively, he tried to bring his sword across to block, but he was far too slow.
Even a snow wolf couldn't defend against this move—how could a young mine guard hope to stop it?
Driven by momentum, the blade, carried by unstoppable brute force, pierced through his leather armor and sank straight into his chest.
Squelch!
The young guard's eyes were filled with sheer disbelief.
He couldn't fathom how an opponent who had been several meters away just a moment ago was now standing right before him in the blink of an eye.
By then, Captain Carl had already parried two of the daggers with his sword. Tilting his head aside, the third grazed his earlobe and struck the rock wall behind him, spitting a shower of sparks.
“Bill—!”
The other young guard’s voice called out, laced with shock and rage.
Seeing Bill run through by the sword, he didn't retreat; instead, he let out a loud roar, raised his blade, and charged at Rosie.
After impaling Bill's chest, Rosie gave her wrist a sharp twist, grinding the fine steel blade inside his chest cavity.
The young guard's pupils dilated rapidly as blood gushed from his nose and mouth.
She yanked her blade free while spinning to the side, yanking the guard’s collapsing body around and shoving it forward with force.
The guard's body hurtled headlong toward Carl.
Just as Carl was about to launch an attack, he was forced to catch his falling subordinate.
He caught him, but the impact forced him back several paces.
That momentary gap...
...left Rosie facing the other charging young guard alone.
The guard named Jack, consumed with rage at his friend's horrific death, brought his sword down toward her in a heavy slash.
Rosie simply stepped aside, her sword thrusting out and snapping back in a lightning-swift motion.
Thwack.
Before Jack could even pull back his blade, a slit had already opened across his throat.
By the time Carl set down his subordinate's corpse, Jack was clutching his spurting throat, his knees buckling as he collapsed to the ground.
“Jack!” Carl roared.
Only a few breaths had passed since the girl struck, yet both of his men had already perished.
Quiet settled over the mine shaft once more, broken only by the crackle of the flames.
Carl stood where he was in a guard stance, his expression stiff as if frozen solid.
“A Combat Skill!”
A few words burst from his lips.
Rosie’s sudden burst of speed just now far exceeded that of a normal person.
Not even a rigorously trained warrior could achieve such speed.
Carl glared at Rosie, a barely suppressed chill in his voice. “Who on earth are you?”
Rosie lowered her blood-stained blade toward the ground. “Just an ordinary adventurer.”
Carl’s brow furrowed slightly. He fell silent for a moment before taking a slow, deep breath.
“I belong to Baron Rorick. You'd better stay out of this business, or suffer the consequences.”
“Baron Rorick, huh...”
Rosie trailed off her words, then attacked without warning the instant her voice fell, thrusting her one-handed sword straight toward Carl's chest.
Having already slain two, she had no intention of letting the third go; she had no desire to leave a survivor to report back.
However, Carl's reactions were far faster than those of the two young guards. The moment Rosie's blade thrust toward him, he responded.
Gripping his sword with both hands, he swept it upward sharply in front of him.
With a loud clang, he parried Rosie's thrust. The vibration from the colliding steel traveled down the hilt and into Rosie's wrist.
In the exact moment he knocked her sword aside, Carl flicked his wrist, bringing his longsword sweeping back along the trajectory of his block, aiming directly for the side of Rosie's neck.
His trajectory was clean, his shift in stance seamless, and his footwork steady—his counterattack combined almost seamlessly with his parry.
He was clearly a veteran trained in proper swordsmanship, operating on a completely different level than small-fry who relied on brute force to hack wildly.
Rosie dodged to the side as the blade grazed past her face with a soft rustle of wind.
Carl didn't pause over the missed strike. Stepping forward in hot pursuit, his blade flashed repeatedly, pressing her with attack after attack.
Hacks, thrusts, upward sweeps, and horizontal slashes—every strike flowed tightly into the next, denying his opponent any chance to breathe or create distance.
He intended to leverage his solid swordsmanship to quickly establish an advantage through continuous offense and defense.
“Hmph, besides that move earlier, what else do you have?”
Carl mocked her while pressing his assault, trying to disrupt Rosie's focus.
Rosie didn't answer. After retreating several steps, her blade suddenly slashed out from a tricky angle, more than twice as fast as before.
Combat Skill—Heroic Strike.
Carl's pupils narrowed slightly; he hadn't expected Rosie to unleash such a swift counterstrike while under continuous defensive pressure.
He hurriedly brought his blade back to block, but the speed of the strike exceeded his expectations. The blade scraped across his forearm, slicing open his right arm as blood instantly soaked his sleeve.
“Dammit! Don't think you're the only one who knows a Combat Skill!”
Carl roared, his expression twisting into a hideous snarl.
“Whirlwind Strike!”
His body spun with sudden acceleration, his longsword sweeping around carried by his full body weight and rotational momentum, the blade cutting through the air with a sharp whistle.
Rosie had no time to dodge completely and could only bring the round shield on her left arm up to block it head-on.
Clang—!
A heavy metallic impact echoed through the shaft.
Rosie felt her shield arm throb as if slammed by an iron bar.
The massive shockwave transmitted through the shield, numbing her arm and forcing her body back into a leap.
By absorbing the momentum, she finally created some space.
The instant her feet touched the ground, Rosie's legs surged with power once more.
Combat Skill—Charge.
Carl was still recovering his footing from the Whirlwind Strike when that silhouette flashed across his vision.
Oh no!
The thought had barely crossed his mind when he felt a cold sensation beneath his armpit.
Squelch!
The sound of the blade driving into flesh was dull yet distinct.
After thrusting her sword home, Rosie twisted and yanked the blade clear, immediately leaping backward to prevent her opponent from launching a desperate counter-trap in his death throes.
Carl's body went rigid as blood spurted from the wound.
The strength drained from his legs, and his knees buckled, bringing him to the ground.
The sword slipped from his fingers, clattering onto the stony floor.
His mouth worked, his voice broken and faint: “The Baron... won't...”
Squelch!
Rosie didn't wait for him to finish, driving her sword straight through his throat.
Carl's voice fell silent.
Crackling and popping!
The spider eggs ruptured under the heat of the fire, unleashing a rapid flurry of popping sounds.
Rate on N.U.
