Lady Rhine stood up, but she did not go back.
She stood in place, tear tracks still on her cheeks, her lips trembling. “Please, help Daisy!”
Rosie watched the movement at the front of the hallway, her voice urgent:
“Now is not the time for this. Go back to your room quickly. We will talk about everything when this is over.”
Rhine opened her mouth, wanting to say more, but in the end, she turned and quickly ran back to her room.
Rosie stepped over the corpses lying on the floor and walked toward the front of the hallway, taking up a stance to block the entire passage single-handedly.
The footsteps drew closer, the stairs groaning and shaking as if a giant beast were climbing up the steps.
Finally, a massive figure stepped onto the top stair, standing at the entrance of the hallway.
It was a heavily armored warrior with broad shoulders and a thick back. Standing at the entrance, he blocked nearly the entire hallway.
He wore a suit of heavy infantry armor, its surface covered in scratches and dents, looking as though it had seen many battles.
His helmet was also fully enclosed, leaving only a horizontal visor slit.
In his right hand, he held a warhammer with a head larger than a human skull, its surface stained with suspicious colors.
It was a two-handed warhammer, yet he carried it with a single hand.
Inside her helmet, Rosie frowned.
What did tin cans hate the most?
Another tin can, of course.
And if it was a tin can holding a heavy can opener, it was even more annoying.
Sufficient weight brought immense kinetic force. Getting hit by something that size was no joke, even with plate armor.
If they were in an open area outside, a single heavily armored warrior like this wouldn't be terrifying. They were slow to move and clumsy to turn; as long as one utilized speed and agility, they could easily be dealt with.
But this was a hallway, a narrow hallway.
There was nowhere to dodge here, and a two-handed warhammer had a substantial attack range. Once swung, it would cover almost the entire width of the hallway.
“Hmm? Who are you?!”
The heavily armored warrior saw Rosie in the hallway as soon as he came up, and then he saw the corpses lying behind her. His voice echoed from inside his helmet.
Rosie declared her identity without hesitation. “I am a Dawnguard. These people tried to attack me, so I killed them.”
“A Dawnguard?”
The heavily armored warrior paused, then said:
“I've always wanted to kill a Dawnguard. I didn't expect one to deliver themselves right to my door!”
With that, he raised his warhammer and marched toward Rosie with heavy steps.
With every step he took on the hallway floor, the wooden boards trembled.
It seemed the Dawnguard gear wasn't useful every single time...
Rosie said no more, watching the heavily armored warrior's movements closely.
His pace wasn't slow. His thick legs swung under his heavy armor, each step covering a greater distance than she had anticipated. Soon, he entered his attack range.
The heavily armored warrior preemptively struck, his warhammer whipping up a gust of wind as it traced a visible arc through the air, smashing toward Rosie's head.
He didn't bother to defend at all, confident that his armor was thick enough that an enemy's sword could not harm him.
And indeed, Rosie did not attack.
She simply took a light step backward, her timing impeccable. The head of the warhammer brushed past the front of her visor, hitting nothing but air.
But with a flick of the warrior's wrist, the hammer swept back in a horizontal slash.
Rosie took another step back. The hammerhead swept past the air right in front of her breastplate, stirring a sharp gust of wind.
The heavily armored warrior possessed incredible strength, wielding the heavy warhammer as easily as an extension of his own arm. Combined with his massive build and constant forward advance, he pressed his attack relentlessly.
Rosie, on the other hand, made no attempt to counterattack. She simply kept retreating, evading the hammer's trajectory by mere inches each time.
Having his attacks dodged multiple times by such precise timing, the heavily armored warrior seemed to grow impatient.
He unleashed another horizontal sweep, the arc wider than before, his stride stretching even further.
This time, Rosie moved. She took a sudden step back, and as she cleared the corpse at her feet, she kicked out.
The corpse on the floor rolled forward violently, like a human-shaped barrel, right into the path of the advancing warrior.
Caught completely off guard while taking his stride, the heavily armored warrior tripped. Losing his balance, he pitched forward uncontrollably.
Rosie lunged forward, launching her first attack.
Bringing down the meteoric iron sword with all the strength and weight of her body, she slashed down fiercely from above.
This sword had once severed the steel-like claws of a werewolf.
And at this moment, the power of this strike was even greater than before.
The edge of the blade pierced through the armor layers with a screeching metallic scrape, turning into a dull squelch as it bit deep into flesh.
The blade hacked into the top of the warrior's helmet, cleaving through the steel, splitting his skull, and crushing his brain.
The massive body crashed onto the wooden floor with a heavy thud. The floorboards groaned in protest, and dust shook down from the gaps in the ceiling.
Rosie yanked the blade out of the deeply embedded split in the helmet with a hard tug.
A thick layer of fluid clung to the blade, trailing a red-and-white thread under the dim light of the oil lamp. She gave the sword a couple of flicks, shaking off the clinging residue.
“Phew... No matter how much strength you have, it's useless without a brain...”
She exhaled, calming her breathing which had tightened from intense focus, and then walked toward the stairs with the meteoric iron sword in hand.
Along the way, the doors on both sides of the hallway remained tightly shut. No one came out to look for trouble.
She headed down the stairs.
The second-floor hallway was completely empty, with only the flame of an oil lamp flickering weakly on its wick, casting shifting, uneven shadows across the floor.
When she reached the first-floor hall, she found over a dozen people still gathered there.
They wore various types of armor and sat scattered around the hall.
A tavern worker was trembling as he poured wine for them.
As Rosie descended, everyone's eyes turned toward her in unison.
A man dressed like a knight but wearing a crestless surcoat set down his cup and stood up.
His gaze fell first upon the plate armor Rosie wore, then drifted over her shoulder to look toward the top of the stairs behind her.
A trace of surprise registered on his face; he had clearly not expected things to turn out this way.
His most capable subordinate hadn't even been able to handle two young girls?
“Who are you? Where is Butch?”
He asked, his voice carrying a trace of irrepressible killing intent.
“Are you asking about that big guy?”
Rosie stood on the very last step of the stairs, her tone flat.
“He's dead.”
The hall fell silent, save for the crackling of the firewood burning in the hearth.
Rate on N.U.
