The Bandit Leader… let's call him bearded guy with scar… didn't look impressed by the teenage girl striking a pose on top of the table.
"Get down, little girl," Scarface growled, brandishing a serrated dagger. "Unless you want a new smile cut into that pretty face."
"I am Zania of the Garia Guard!" Zania announced, pointing her sword at him. Her stance was wide, heroic, and completely full of openings. "Surrender now, and I will only bruise you a little bit!"
Oh, Zania, I thought, watching from behind the counter. Your left flank is wide open. Your center of gravity is too high. If he kicks the table leg, you will face-plant into the display case.
Scarface seemed to realize this too. He didn't duel her honorably. He kicked the table.
"Whoa!" Zania yelped as the table tipped over.
She flailed, about to crash into my tray of premium eclairs.
Not the eclairs, I decided.
I snapped my fingers under the counter. [Spell: Vector Control - Minor Adjustment].
Instead of falling forward into the pastry case, Zania's fall suddenly defied physics. She spun in mid-air, looking like a graceful acrobat, and landed perfectly on her feet three feet to the left.
"Ha!" Zania shouted, looking surprised but recovering instantly. "You thought a simple table kick could defeat me? I have... cat-like reflexes!"
"She's a slippery one," one of the lackeys grunted. He charged at her with a club.
Zania raised her sword to block.
I squinted. The lackey was huge. He was putting his entire body weight into that swing. Zania was strong, but she was a lightweight. If that club hit her sword, the impact would shatter her wrist.
I couldn't let that happen.
I grabbed a stale baguette from the "Reject Bin" beside me.
[Spell: Aerodynamics - Silent Throw].
I chucked the baguette. It flew across the room faster than an arrow, completely silent. It struck the lackey's elbow at the precise nerve point.
"Argh!" The lackey's arm went numb instantly. The club dropped from his hand mid-swing.
Zania didn't question it. She saw an opening and took it. She slammed the pommel of her sword into the man's gut.
"Justice Punch!" she screamed (even though it was a sword hilt).
The lackey folded like a lawn chair and groaned on the floor.
"One down!" Zania cheered.
"You brat!" Scarface roared. He and the third bandit (a guy with a crossbow) moved together.
"Ren!" Zania yelled, not looking back. "Get down! It's gonna get dangerous!"
"I am hiding!" I yelled back, crouching behind the register. "Please don't break the window! It is expensive!"
The crossbowman raised his weapon. He wasn't aiming at Zania. He was aiming at me.
"Distract her, boss! I'll skew the baker!" the crossbowman shouted.
Rude, I thought.
He pulled the trigger. The bolt flew straight at my forehead.
Time seemed to slow down. I could have vaporized the bolt. I could have caught it with my teeth. But that would ruin my cover.
I pretended to trip over my own feet.
"Eek!" I squeaked, falling backward onto a sack of flour.
[Spell: Wind Wall - Localized].
A tiny, invisible burst of air knocked the bolt upward just as I fell. The bolt slammed into the wooden sign above my head—right where my face had been a second ago.
"He missed!" I yelled, my voice trembling. "I am so lucky!"
Zania turned, her eyes burning with fury. "You shot at Ren?!"
The air around her began to shimmer. Her emotions were triggering her dormant Holy Mana. The temperature in the bakery rose.
Careful, I thought. Don't blow up the block, Zania.
She charged at Scarface. It was a reckless, straight-line charge. Scarface grinned and prepared to sidestep and stab her in the back.
I sighed. I have to do everything myself.
I looked at a bucket of mop water near the door.
[Spell: Friction Reduce - Zero].
As Scarface tried to pivot his foot to dodge, the floor beneath him suddenly became as slippery as frictionless ice.
His legs shot out from under him. He went horizontal in the air, his arms flailing comically.
Zania, expecting a dodge, had swung her sword with full force. Instead of hitting nothing, her blade connected flat-side with the airborne bandit's face.
SMACK.
It sounded like a wet towel hitting a wall.
Scarface pirouetted in the air and crashed into the wall, sliding down into a heap of unconsciousness.
The room went silent.
The crossbowman looked at his unconscious boss. Then he looked at the groaning lackey. Then he looked at Zania, who was standing there breathing hard, looking confused at her own strength.
"I..." Zania blinked. "I got him?"
She looked at her sword. "Did you see that, Ren? He tried to dodge, but I was faster! I predicted his movement!"
"You were amazing!" I lied from behind the counter, dusting flour off my shoulder. "You moved like a blur! I couldn't even see what happened!"
The crossbowman dropped his weapon. "She's a monster," he whispered. "The boss is a veteran fighter, and she took him out in one hit!"
He turned and bolted for the door.
"Hey! Come back here!" Zania shouted, chasing him.
She tripped over the mop bucket on her way out.
"Oof!" She face-planted into the doorframe.
I winced. I can't protect you from gravity when you aren't fighting, Zania.
The crossbowman vanished down the street. Zania scrambled up, rubbing her forehead, but she was beaming.
"Two out of three ain't bad!" She turned to me, adrenaline still pumping. "Ren! Are you okay? Did they hurt you?"
She hopped over the counter and grabbed my shoulders, checking me for injuries. Her hands were warm.
"I am fine," I said, gently removing her hands. "Thanks to you. You saved the bakery, Zania."
"I did, didn't I?" She puffed out her chest, looking incredibly proud. "Man, wait until I tell Captain Orik. 'Bandits subdued single-handedly.' I'm totally getting a promotion."
She looked down at the unconscious Scarface.
"Although... I don't remember him slipping. It felt like he just... flew into my sword."
I stiffened. "He was intimidated," I suggested quickly. "He saw your warrior spirit and his knees gave out."
"Yeah..." Zania nodded, accepting the flattery immediately. "That makes sense. My spirit is pretty intimidating."
She kicked the bandit lightly.
"Alright, I gotta drag these guys to the guard station. Ren, can you keep my melon pan safe? I'll be back for it."
"It will be waiting," I promised.
She grabbed the two unconscious men by their collars and began dragging them out the door. It was an impressive feat of strength for a human girl, though she grunted with the effort.
"See ya, Ren! Stay safe!"
"You too, Hero," I murmured as the door closed.
The silence returned to the bakery.
I looked at the mess. The overturned table. The spilled mop water. The crossbow bolt stuck in my sign.
"General Malphas," I said to the empty room.
A shadow in the corner coalesced into the tall, dark form of the General. He had been hiding there the whole time, likely restraining himself from slaughtering the bandits.
"My Lord," Malphas bowed. "Shall I hunt down the one who escaped? I can peel his skin off and make a rug."
"No," I said, picking up the table. "Let him go. He will spread rumors that a 'Demon Guard' protects this bakery. It will keep other thieves away."
I pulled the crossbow bolt out of the wood and tossed it in the trash.
"Fix the sign, Malphas. And mop the floor. We have customers coming in ten minutes."
Malphas, the Grand Marshal of Hell, sighed. He picked up the mop.
"As you command, My Lord."