Both masked intruders rushed at Henry together. Their knives were taken out. Aiming for his neck and ribs at the same time.
Henry did not step back. Stepped in.
The first knife came from the left. Henry turned his body slightly lift. Letting the blade pass just inches from his chest. At the same time, he grabbed the attacker's wrist and twisted it outward.
Not enough to break it but enough to change the direction of the strike. The knife hit the stone floor instead of his body.
The second attacker came from behind that moment, trying to stab Henry in the back.
Henry dropped his stance lower instantly.
The blade passed over his shoulder as he spun his body in a half circle. His foot swept across the ground, hitting the second intruder's leg. The man lost balance for a second.
Henry immediately pushed the first attacker into the second one. Their bodies crashed but they recovered fast.
He stopped moving in patterns. And began throwing random bullshyts.
Left, then suddenly forward. Then nothing. Then a sudden sharp turn.
The attackers attacked again but missed slightly.
Henry used that small gap.
He stepped on the edge of the wall railing and jumped forward. Kicking the first attacker's arm. The knife flew into the wind.
Henry caught it mid-air. Now he had two weapons.
The fight became faster. The second intruder tried to grab Henry's neck.
Henry used the stolen knife to block, then pushed both enemies away at once with a strong kick.
All three separated for a moment.Then Henry lowered his stance again.
The two intruders rolled their shoulders lightly. They seemed amused taking the this as entertainment rather than any matter.
"There is still time to surrender. After that, it will not be a warning anymore."
One of the masked men let out a short laugh. "Surrender? You really think this is a street fight you can end with polite advice?"
The other tilted his head. "He sounds like an instructor. Maybe he will grade our performance next."
A low chuckle passed between them.
Henry did not react immediately. He simply adjusted his grip on the knife he had taken earlier, then slowly shifted his stance again.
"You are joking because you think you are in control. That's normal. Most people laugh right before they realize they are already losing."
The first intruder shrugged. "So what? What are you going to do? Bath us in acid? Do whatever, we aren't speaking out our intentions."
Henry's eyes narrowed slightly.
"It doesn't change the fact, it only shows me how you think."
The second intruder stepped forward half a pace.
"So what do you see, then?"
"I see two people trying to look confident. Because they are afraid of what happens if they stop pretending. Fear isn't the problem, after all. It is what people do to avoid admitting it. That is the time when mistakes happen unintentionally."
The intruders exchanged a glance.
Then both smiled again but this time, it looked slightly less certain than before.
The first sound was small, then psssshhh...
Two smoke bombs burst open at Henry's feet, vomiting thick gray clouds that swallowed the terrace in seconds.
The clean sea air turned heavy and bitter. Lights blurred into dull halos around him.
Henry did not panic and intuitively stood there. He exhaled slowly and lowered his center of gravity.
The wind carried small clues. By the wind sensing, he would detect cloth fluttering, boots brushing the ground, breath pushing through smoke.
His senses lighted up like searching a grain in darkness.
Then, a blade flashed from the mist.
Henry turned just in time. Two blades passed by his head and left shoulder.
Before he could counter, another strike came from the opposite side, looping perfectly with the first attack.
The second intruder jumped in following a rehearsed pattern of tactical teamwork.
It felt less like fighting two people and more like being caught inside a spinning machine of blades.
Henry blocked one strike, but the second knife slipped through the gap and cut across his ribs. He staggered half a step, breath tightening from the shock.
Henry was for a moment lost in thoughts.
By how they are attacking and synchronizing, they are definitely some professional assassins right there.
He thought.
They looped their movements again. Repeating patterns with slight changes, adjusting to Henry's reflexes in real time.
Henry wiped blood from his sleeve and took his stance again.
The pain from earlier cuts had not faded. It was real, reminding him that this was not a game of speed, it was a test of patience.
Henry slowed himself on purpose.
Not slowing because he was tired but because rushing would kill him.
He planted his boots carefully on ground.
Changing his weight from heel to toe, feeling the stone beneath him instead of trusting his sight.
Inhale… hold… exhale... that was all he could do right now.
He stopped chasing every shadow of them and began waiting for clear signals.
Another strike came from the mist swiftly.
Henry raised his blade and blocked it, but not fully. He allowed the knife to slide along his guard instead of resisting with full force.
His wrist absorbed the motion instead of fighting it. The second attacker followed instantly, just as before.
Yes.
They were skilled but not random at these actions. They were repeating patterns with small changes.
Henry stepped half a pace back, forcing their spacing to shift slightly. The attackers tried to adjust but that adjustment gave him information.
He was mapping their movement in his mind, slowly, piece by piece, like solving a jigsaw blindly with just help of Touch.
Then one of them changed tactics.
"Iron flowers bloom in the veins of the strong — rust and crumble… Rust of the Nightless!"
The attacker lunged forward with a heavy punch instead of a blade.
Henry tried to block but the fist struck against his forearm with dull force. At first, it felt normal. Then something began to crawl under his skin unnaturally.
"Wait, why... I feel... my body is... exhausted and weak... "
A deep, grinding stiffness spread from the point of impact, creeping slowly through muscle and bone like invisible rot.
Slower. Not dead but resisting him. The rust had formed around his body and slowly jamming his internal organs.
Making his physical capabilities falter
Not instant damage… it was gradual decay.
His grip on the knives weakened slightly. The steel in his hand felt rougher somehow, less smooth than before.
Another strike came immediately from the intruders in mask.
This time, Henry failed to block fully. The blade sliced across his side. Forcing him to fall on one knee.
Pain surged through his ribs. His stiffened arm trembled under his own weight. The curse spread slowly, not violently, turning strength into weakness piece by piece.
Henry pressed his palm against the ground and forced himself upward. His body resisted his will but his will pushed harder.
He did not try to move fast now. So he moved methodically.
He changed his stance again, dragging his stiff arm into position with deliberate force.
His eyes stayed sharp even as his muscles betrayed him. He was learning their timing but painfully.
The intruders circled within the smoke. Henry exhaled through clenched teeth. He was falling behind but not defeated.
His fingers shook unwillingly.
The curse was patient, cruel in its design. It did not rush to kill. It waited to make strength meaningless.
One of the intruders stepped closer through the smoke, voice low and mocking.
"This spell doesn't fight your strength in sense. It ignores it. Any defense that tries to resist becomes the path it uses. Meaning it adapts to any conventional defenses and causes curse and rust, making even tank like forces falter! Rust of the Nightless... truly a fascinating Spell to punish rascals! "
Henry breathed slowly through his teeth, forcing himself upright despite the creeping pain in his limbs. He watched the shadows shift again. Another attack was coming.
A sharp whistle came through the smoke. The intruder lunged forward aiming straight for Henry's throat.
CLANG?!!
Sparks burst in the gray fog as another blade intercepted the strike with brutal force. The impact rang like a bell across the terrace.
Henry's eyes widened slightly.
Roland stood between them.
His Astra. Marked with blazing red tattoo-like patterns. It was pressed against the attacker's knife, holding it back.
"Miss me?" Roland muttered.
Before the intruders could react, Roland released his grip. The red katana dropped point-first toward the stone floor.
BOOM!!!
A localized explosion burst outward from the blade's impact point, sending a violent shockwave across the terrace. Fire and compressed force blasted through the smoke, tearing it apart like cloth.
The gray mist vanished instantly.
Both intruders were thrown backward, crashing across the stone and skidding hard along the ground.
The terrace became clear again.