The World Is Mine For The Taking

And she explained the task.

On the surface, it seemed simple. I had to protect Lord Cross, an imperial official who oversaw Finance. From my perspective, he was nothing but a debauched man, unworthy of the position he held.

But the real issue was the threat against him. Lady Leonora warned me about a man who called himself Christopher Faust.

At first, I didn't see anything strange about him. He looked so normal. Just a man traveling quietly with his wife.

And yet, Lady Leonora's tone when she spoke his name told me one thing—there was far more to him than what I could see.

I stayed wound tight, every muscle coiled and ready. Christopher Faust looked ordinary at first — the kind of man you'd pass on the street without a second thought — but the way he held himself, the quiet economy in his movements, told a different story. There was a practiced ease to him, like someone who'd spent years learning how not to be noticed until the moment to strike arrived. Whether he could actually stand against me in a fight? That was still an open question.

From where I stood, there was nothing flashy about him. Just a traveler with a wife at his side. The kind of façade that made a predator feel comfortable in plain sight.

Then he let something out — not a word, not a shout, but an aura. It rolled off him like cold wind over smooth stone. The world narrowed for a heartbeat and the air tasted metallic. I felt it in my bones, a chill that crawled up my spine and threatened to freeze my limbs in place. It wasn't just danger — it was a presence that said, I know how to end this.

Lady Leonora had warned me. When she mentions someone, it's never casual. If she'd pointed him out, there was likely reason. Still, stubbornness is a fire I fed. I told myself I could handle it. I had to protect Lord Cross. That was the order. That was the line I wouldn't cross.

I let my mind go to the plan I'd sketched out earlier — take his wife as a hostage, force him into a position where he had to choose between fighting and bargaining. Efficient. Clean. Brutal if it had to be. It should have worked.

I was an idiot for not considering one obvious possibility: his wife could fight too.

That small detail twisted the whole equation. If Christopher was stronger than me and more skilled — if he could read my movements five steps ahead — then getting close enough to land a killing blow might be impossible. And a second fighter at his side? That'd turn a manageable objective into a chaotic, unpredictable mess.

But Lady Leonora's orders were on my shoulders. I squared my jaw and moved.

I hurled a blade at Christopher Faust. It felt good in my hand — weight balanced, edge whispering through the air. He didn't even flinch; he lifted his weapon and the blade glanced off like it hit a shadow. The clang of steel against steel sang in my ears and something in the air shifted. A sticky, crawling sensation crept across my skin, like insects walking under the surface. I had no name for it, only the knowledge that it made me uneasy.

"So you're sent by Leonora, huh?" he said, voice calm, like he was commenting on the weather.

He knew her. Of course he did. Figures. The irritation that flared at the casualness of him calling her by name cut sharper than my blade.

"There should be a 'Lady' in there somewhere," I snapped, because if I didn't show teeth he might smell weakness.

"What? Are you some kind of lovesick fangirl?" he volleyed back, and the words were light but edged like a blade.

I didn't bother to untangle his insult. Instead I drew kunai from the sheath at my hip and launched them, one after another. They weren't toys — the tips were laced with poison. If they found flesh, they would do their work swift and without mercy.

He dodged. He blocked. He made those moves look effortless. Or did he? I had a trick up my sleeve: the kunai were threaded with ultrathin strings, invisible unless you caught the light just so. After they flew past and were deflected, I tugged the lines, planning to make them whip back and find their mark.

"H-Huh?" I muttered under my breath.

He cut the strings.

"Don't you think those strings are a bit too shiny? I can see them in the light," he said, as if commenting on the prettiness of embroidery.

Heat crawled to my face. He was mocking my techniques — the techniques Lady Leonora had taught me. How dare he make sport of them. I gritted my teeth hard enough to hurt and felt a hot coil of anger tighten my limbs. He would pay.

I kept trying. Throws, feints, angle changes — every trick I had, I threw forward. It was like throwing stones at a fortress. Nothing landed. Every kunai glanced off, snapped aside, or simply failed to find gap or seam. His timing was wrong in the worst possible way for me... he was perfectly on beat. It wasn't brute force that protected him. It was finesse and anticipation. He read the rhythm of the fight like a musician.

When distance wasn't giving me the advantage, I closed it. I yanked two blades from either hip and launched myself at him in a blur, like a praying mantis strike, blades aimed inward to trap, cut, and finish in one cruel motion. My feet left the ground in a rush of momentum, wind whipping my hair, adrenaline sharpening my vision to razor focus.

He lifted his blade once. Just once. My attack pinged off it like a wave hitting a cliff. The single motion was too easy and too composed. The clang echoed in the space between us, and the weight of that sound told me I was being toyed with.

Frustration turned tight in my chest. I tried a midair kick, aiming low and merciless for his crotch, the sort of strike that would ruin the balance of any man. He slid out of the way like water finding a crack. I spun, drove the blades down in a slicing arc, followed with a sweep of my leg with all the choreography I'd practiced a thousand times. He stepped aside as if stepping around a puddle.

He was playing with me. With the patience of a cat. With that casual, infuriating certainty that comes from someone who knows they can afford to be graceful and still win.

"What are you doing?! Kill him already!" Lord Cross barked, voice rough and urgent.

His shout cut through my spiraling thoughts. I glanced at Lord Cross with his face taut, expectation burning in his eyes, and felt the twin weights of duty and desire crash into me. I wanted to prove myself. I wanted Lady Leonora's approval to wash over me like armor. I wanted it so badly my teeth hurt.

This wasn't going to be easy. Not with a man like Christopher Faust standing in my path and a wife who might not be the helpless hostage I'd assumed. The fight had shifted from something I could manage to something I might barely survive.