The man beside her swallowed. "…T-two of them—"
"…I know," she replied.
She didn't slow. She cut in—angle sharp, timing perfect. One participant turned too late—her foot struck his knee. **CRACK.** He dropped instantly, scream cut short as she drove her elbow into his throat.
The second lunged—wild, desperate. She pivoted. Minimal movement. Efficient. His strike missed, her counter didn't. A sharp blow to the jaw, then another to the temple. He collapsed. Silence in that small pocket of chaos.
She bent, picked up the token. Her fingers tightened around it. "…Got it."
The man exhaled shakily, looking around. "…That was—fast…"
She didn't respond immediately. Her eyes were on the token. A faint glow pulsed within it—a timer. Unpredictable.
The faint glow inside the token stabilized.
Numbers formed. Clear. Unforgiving.
"…Three minutes," the fox girl said, eyes narrowing slightly as she read it.
The man leaned closer, tension rising. "…That's… fast…"
Her grip tightened around the token. "…Fast enough to get us killed if we're careless."
She could feel it already—eyes. From the edges of the chaos, from those who hadn't moved, from those who waited.
"…They saw," she murmured.
The man stiffened. "…What do we do—?"
She moved immediately. No hesitation. No pause.
"…We don't run," she said sharply. "…We **misdirect**."
He blinked. "…What?"
Her gaze flicked around, calculating routes, angles, movement patterns. "…We hold for five minutes."
"…Five—? But you said—"
"…I know what I said," she cut him off. Her voice dropped—controlled, precise. "…The timer is three. Which is exactly why we act like it isn't."
The man's confusion deepened. "…You want them to think—?"
"…That it's longer," she finished. Her tail flicked once. "…People who saw will assume we're waiting for activation. They'll hesitate. They'll position. They'll prepare to strike when it unlocks."
A faint smirk touched her lips. "…But they won't rush immediately."
Understanding clicked in his eyes. "…So when it actually activates—"
"…They won't be ready," she said.
She turned sharply. "…Move. Not too fast. Not too slow."
They shifted position—not fleeing, not hiding—just relocating. Controlled. Measured. Like they weren't being hunted. Like nothing had changed.
But the pressure followed. Footsteps in the distance. Subtle. Tracking. Watching.
The man swallowed. "…They're still coming…"
The fox girl didn't flinch. Her grip tightened around the token. "…I know." Calm. Controlled.
But her eyes—sharp. Calculating.
"…Three minutes," she muttered. "…We just need three minutes."
Too late.
The first attacker broke into view—then another—then two more from behind.
Four. No hesitation. No words.
They came straight for her, eyes locked on the token.
"…Not happening."
She moved—not flashy, not wide. Efficient.
She stepped in, closed the gap before he expected it, and her palm struck his chest—right over the sternum.
**CRACK.**
His breath vanished. His body folded instantly.
But another was already there. A kick came from her blind side—fast, sharp.
She turned—too late to fully avoid it.
**THUD.**
It slammed into her ribs. She slid back a step, jaw tightening.
*They're not weak…*
These weren't panicked fighters. They were composed. Disciplined. And they knew exactly what she was holding.
Behind her, the man was struggling. His opponent pressed him hard—blow after blow—driving him backward.
"…Ghk—!"
He barely blocked one. The next slipped through. A fist slammed into his face. He staggered. Blood. Every strike measured. No wasted motion.
That was enough. A fist slipped through his guard—**THUD.** His head snapped to the side. He stumbled. "…Tch—!"
Back to the fox girl—two now. One in front, one circling. She adjusted her stance, breathing steady.
The token burned slightly in her grip. Time ticking.
"…Come then," she said low.
They did.
The first rushed—a straight strike. She parried, turned, countered. But the second came immediately—no gap, no pause. A coordinated assault.
She ducked one, blocked another—but a third strike—**THUD.**—caught her shoulder. She slid back again, breathing deepening.
*Damn…*
Even without mana, this was a real fight. No overwhelming advantage. No easy win. Just skill. Timing. Endurance.
They were gaining ground.
The man hit the wall—hard. Dropped to one knee, vision shaking. The fox girl's eyes flicked.
*Not good—*
The two in front pressed harder—sensing it. One feinted high, the other went low. She blocked—but the force pushed her back again. Closer. Closer to the edge. Her fingers tightened around the token.
The glow pulsed again.
**2:11**
Still too long.
Too long to hold like this.
One of the attackers smiled slightly.
"…Hand it over."
No arrogance. Just certainty. They knew time wasn't on her side.
The fox girl exhaled slowly, lowering her stance. Bruised. Bleeding. But her eyes remained sharp.
"…Come take it."
The next clash was even worse.
Her breathing was shallow. Her arms ached. Her legs burned.
The man beside her stumbled, wiping blood from his split lip. "…We… can't… hold…"
She didn't respond, only tightened her grip on the token.
The attackers weren't slowing. They knew its value. They were relentless.
Her vision blurred slightly from the strikes, but instinct kept her moving. One attacker feinted left, another struck from above. She blocked both, but the force slammed her into the wall. Pain radiated through her shoulder.
The man tried to step in, but a precise kick sent him sprawling.
Her tail flicked sharply, balancing her, protecting the token.
**1:42**
The glow pulsed brighter, almost as if it were counting down with them. The attackers closed in, coordinating perfectly. Each strike, each feint, each motion designed to break them.
Her jaw clenched, her eyes burned.
"Not… yet," she hissed, moving again.
A sudden feint opened a small window. She exploited it. A quick shove sent one stumbling back just enough to create space, but the other pressed harder, forcing her to retreat.
Every second counted. Every heartbeat mattered.