I watched as Hiroto approached the operatives like he had no fear left.
What the hell is he doing?
My body screamed. Move, run, do something! But I was frozen. Six assassins all staged 3 our higher surrounded us.
We were truly nothing more than insects.
In the corner, Vera sobbed quietly. I heard her whisper something– an apology? To Hiroto.
I'm sorry, Belle. Mother. Father.
I don't think I'll make it home today.
Each step Hiroto took echoed in the silence like a funeral drum. The walk of a man who'd already accepted his death.
I forced my muscles to coil, to prepare. Hiroto was smart– smarter than anyone I'd ever met. If he was moving, he surely had a plan.
I just had to be ready to capitalize on any opening he created.
An operative handed him a set of artificers tools. Hiroto accepted them without trembling. His eyes were calm and focused.
The auburn-haired Stage 6 operative watched him with the patient curiosity of a cat, watching a mouse.
"Before I do this," Hiroto said quietly, "tell me. The Ten Wonders. What are they really for?"
"And the people who fail your tests? The investigators who died?"
"Collateral damage. Every great endeavor requires sacrifice."
Hiroto nodded slowly. "I see."
Then he drove the tool into the resonance crystal.
Hard.
The crystal exploded.
"STOP—" the operative lunged forward.
Every assassin in the room moved at once.
Time seemed to slow. Like the moment before lightning strikes.
In that frozen instant, I understood what Hiroto had chosen.
He was sacrificing himself.
Buying us seconds. Maybe a minute. Time for Vera and me to escape while they killed him.
You absolute idiot.
Light erupted from the artifact like an artificial sun, flooding the workshop in blinding white.
And Vera moved.
She'd been crouched over her desk a second ago. Now she was between Hiroto and the operative, her Path tattoo blazing gold across her arm.
The Judge.
Her Path ability. Speed amplification based on her opponent's guilt. Against assassins, against murderers. She could push from Stage 5 to near Stage 7.
Three golden shields materialized in front of her. Layered. Reinforced.
The operative's fist, coated in dark essence, shattered through all three like paper.
But Vera didn't stop.
She threw up another shield. Then another.
"Take care of Gwen for me, Melissa."
Her voice was soft. Resigned. Almost peaceful.
"WAIT—" I broke free from my paralysis, drawing my crossbow.
Too slow.
Too late.
Vera threw herself forward one last time, positioning herself between Hiroto and the operative's killing blow.
"Yeah," she said, smiling at something I couldn't see. "If it's this man, it'll be okay."
Then she closed her eyes.
The operative's hand punched through her chest.
Through.
I fired my crossbow blindly, desperately. The bolts scattered across the room, forcing the other operatives to dodge.
I tried to reach Vera. Tried to—
An operative tackled me from the side. We hit the ground hard. My head cracked against the wooden floor.
Through blurred vision, I watched.
Watched as the light left Aunt Vera's eyes.
Watched as her body crumpled like a puppet with cut strings.
Watched as the woman who'd babysat me, who'd told me stories, who'd been the only person who never abandoned us.
Watched as she died.
For him.
For a detective she'd betrayed. For a man she'd met three days ago.
Why? Why would you—
Then Hiroto's eyes opened.
And then I heard humming.
A cheerful tune. Almost childlike?
Like someone who had no cares, who was casually strolling through a garden.
Hiroto stood up, still humming. His movements were fluid now. Like a dancer.
His eyes had changed. His iris had darkened to black, a golden ring burning around his pupil.
But his expression made my blood run cold.
He was smiling.
Not Hiroto's careful, thoughtful smile when he found a clue.
The smile was wide. The look of someone who'd found something absolutely delightful.
"Oh my," he said, his voice carrying a quality of tranquility. "What a wonderful mess we're in. Blood and broken things all painted in a beautiful sheen of desperation. It's been so long since I've had a proper outing."
He looked at his hands and flexed his fingers.
"Stage 1. How limiting. But limitations make things more interesting, don't they?"
He cracked his knuckles and neck.
"Let's see what we can do with this."
The auburn-haired operative's expression shifted from shock to wariness. "What–"
"Shh shh." Whatever Hiroto was, pressed a finger to its lips. "No talking yet. Just bask in the ambiance for a little."
He walked to Vera's body and knelt beside her.
"Thank you for the invitation, my dear lady. Your sacrifice will be noted." He placed his fingers on her eyelids and gently pushed them down. "Sleep well. The work will continue without you."
Then he stood and turned to face the operatives. The smile never left his face.
"Now then. Six of you. One of me. Stage 6 versus Stage 1. By all reasonable metrics, I should die here." His head tilted. "Isn't that exciting? The odds are delicious. Makes the art that much sweeter."
What are you?" the auburn-haired operative demanded.
He put a finger to his lips and adopted a coy smile. "Oh? Wouldn't you like to know."
He looked up, his face in consideration. "I guess if I can tell you one thing, I've discovered problems don't need solving, they need vivisection!"
He spread his arms wide.
"You've all invited me to play, and I'm eternally grateful!"
The operative ripped into space and stuck his hand in the void. He pulled out a crimson cleaver from the void-space. "Whatever it is.. Futile tricks don't matter."
The Monster vanished.
No. Not vanished.
Moved.
Faster than Stage 1 should allow. Impossibly fast.
He reappeared behind one of the Stage 3 operatives, humming that same cheerful tune.
"Excuse me," he said politely. "Do you have the time?"
The operative spun, blade raised—
The Ripper's hand shot forward.
His fingers dug into the operative's throat and pulled.
The operative gurgled. The blood spilling from his neck.
"Oh dear," the Ripper said, examining the crushed windpipe in his hand with academic interest. "I seem to have broken your voice box. How terribly rude of me."
He wiped his hand on the dying operative's coat.
He brought his hand to his mouth and yawned.
Just what the hell is wrong with this guy?!