Standing in the dim cave, Delia hesitated, weighing a choice that could decide her life and death. Closing her eyes, she focused on the signals her ability sent out, concentrating on each passage one by one.
Only then did she finally manage to evaluate them by danger level.
The first one — the one she came from — was completely safe, but a dead end.
The second, to the right, was the safest of the new options, roughly fifty–fifty.
The third, straight ahead, promised "seven deaths out of ten."
The fourth, to the left, shifted constantly: at once a guaranteed death and a path to safety. And also… it held something strange, mysterious.
Uncertainly turning in place, Delia studied the passages.
{Maybe I should go back and hide there.}
But a single glance at the dead knight killed the thought instantly.
{Fifty–fifty isn't a bad option, but…}
And then she remembered the dream — the one that turned out to be a warning. Her gaze was drawn to the most unpredictable tunnel.
{Qinxuan said: "Danger and opportunity walk hand in hand. To move forward, you need to take a risk." What is there? Why does it feel so… unusual?}
Taking a deep breath, gathering what little resolve she had left, she stepped into the left passage.
The tunnel turned out long and winding. Delia soon felt sick — as if the cave itself was pressing down on her. She was certain: stay any longer, and claustrophobia would grab hold of her.
Fortunately, the passage soon opened into a space similar to the previous one, but much larger.
In the center stood a stone one and a half times a person's height. The unusual presence came from it — but Delia had no chance to examine it.
Light.
Footsteps.
And the danger they carried seized her attention completely, forcing her into full concentration.
{Ah, so that's the variable. Perfect timing.}
There was no surprise at all when her blue eyes settled on the newcomer.
Lin Deming — an old acquaintance.On his belt hung a strange artifact emitting warm light, flooding the cave and robbing her of her night-vision advantage.
{Couldn't be better.}
His gaze lingered on the stone for a few moments — it stood out far too much in the center of the chamber. But the interest quickly faded; the stone looked no different from countless others.
His attention shifted back to Delia.
A moment of awkward silence hung in the air.Delia didn't rush to move — only tightened her grip on the sword.
Finally, Lin Deming spoke. His gaze slid to the stump of her arm.
— Didn't expect to see you. You've changed a lot.
The gloating in his voice was obvious.
— And you haven't — still the same asshole, — her tone was icy. She knew provoking him was a bad idea, but couldn't stop herself. — Though you're still nothing compared to your master.
— DON'T you dare speak of Boss like that! — he roared. His voice struck the cave walls, sending dust falling.
— Boss? Heh, — she scoffed, entirely unimpressed.
— You… — he pointed at her furiously, looking like an enraged tiger, but restrained himself.
— If Boss weren't interested in you, you'd already be dead.
— Interested? — disgust flashed in her eyes. — I'm not interested in domineering men.
— You… — he was clearly at his limit, but endured for the sake of his mission. — You have two choices: join Boss or die. And don't think you can run.
{Moment of truth. Agree? At least for now. It might give me a chance to escape.}
But just as the thought formed, Lin Deming, as if reading her intent, pulled a metal collar from his bag and tossed it at her feet.
— What is that? — Delia asked, though she already guessed, rage stirring inside her.
— An artifact personally crafted by Boss. Put it on willingly, and I'll believe in your loyalty.
— Never! — she snarled, every fiber of her being rejecting such humiliation.
Lin Deming only smirked.
— Well then, your choice.
At that very moment, he attacked.
Delia activated Reality Blur before he could seize the initiative — her figure distorted, doubled, tripled. She dashed at him, aiming her sword at his neck.
The blade shimmered faintly as an energy edge burst from it — but her balance, ruined by the loss of an arm and striking with the non-dominant hand, gave him an opening. He slipped aside effortlessly, his fist driving forward.
She twisted, bringing her blade up to intercept. The collision of his fist and her sword rang with a heavy metallic clang, and the impact threw her back, nearly ripping the weapon from her grip.
{What the hell is he made of???}
— Interesting tricks, — he remarked, his gaze sharpening. — But your movements are far too clumsy.
He struck again.
His fist passed through a blurred afterimage, hitting nothing. The real Delia slashed from the right — he dodged, parried with his palm, and the force of the deflection launched her backward.
But his hands weren't invulnerable — blood dripped down his right forearm.
{So it is possible…}
— Still not fast enough, — he said coldly.
He leapt forward, fist wrapped in a brown glow, and struck from above. Delia barely rolled aside, but the shockwave of the technique flung her onto her back.
The blur shattered.
She rose, blood running down her split forehead — but Deming was already upon her. His fist, surrounded by sparks, crashed into her blade. Metal screeched, her arm went numb, her body shuddered from the vibration.
She stumbled back.
Before she could regain balance, his palm shot forward — a wave of compressed air slammed into her, lifting her off the ground.
She crashed down, gasping for breath.
Deming didn't rush. Delia pushed herself up, wiping blood from her lips.
— Stubbornness won't save you, — he said, stepping closer.
— For a pile of muscles, you sure talk a lot of s***, — she spat.
He struck again.
His fist aimed straight at her chest. Delia tried to parry, but exhaustion slowed her.The blow shattered her guard, knocking the sword free and hurling her against the stone pillar.
Blood spilled from her mouth; her body screamed with pain, but she rose anyway.
Deming clenched his fist, his aura thickening.
— You tried… but this is the end.
His fist, wrapped in radiant energy, smashed into her. Delia raised her arm to block, but the force launched her backward. Her body hit the tall stone behind her, staining it red.
She lay there, not afraid — only regretful.
Deming slowly picked up her sword and approached.
— Don't look like that. I won't kill you. Boss is interested not only in you, but your little friend as well. You'll make a useful hostage.
A wave of hatred tore through her. She tried to rise — but his heavy boot pinned her down.
— And when she breaks, you'll put that collar on yourself and become a loyal dog, — he added, leaning down.
At that moment, footsteps echoed. Lin Deming tore his gaze away from her, expecting visitors.
But the two warriors who appeared stunned him.
— Imperials? And the personal guard of the Empress — the Silver Legion?
— Ha-ha, look, Eighth, someone finally recognized us. Oh— this guy's pretty strong, rank Eight. A great target, — one of the warriors said in a young voice, lowering the lens from his face.
— Hey, look what he's holding. Isn't that one of our swords? — the second pointed out.
— Damn, you're right. It can only be the Fourteenth's blade. Bastard, what did you do to him?
— What are you yammering about? Hit first, ask later.
And so a new battle began.