The Great Oni
Volume (1) Benoni Chapter (9)
"Today we'll burn the witch at the stake!"
The priest, face still scarred from Yeti's bite, barked the order with arrogant relish.
Below the platform the crowd roared in perfect rhythm:
"Burn her! Burn her!"
He rubbed the half-healed wound on his left cheek and flashed a crooked grin.
*Bitch—let's see what you can do now,* he gloated inwardly.
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At that very moment two prison guards were making their way toward Yeti's cell.
"Shame, really," the first guard muttered, shaking his head. "A girl this… Beautiful and fine body, yet we're about to burn her."
"Damn, man—opportunities like this don't come every day," the second guard replied, voice oozing anticipation.
"Yeah. With a body and face like that, who knows when we'll get another witch this pretty?"
Chuckling under their breath, the two guards reached Yeti's door, keys jangling in their hands.
One of the two guards produced a key and calmly worked the lock.
The other, distracted and half-bored, glanced here and there—why bother paying close attention to a wounded, under-age girl?
The heavy cell door swung open. The moment it did, Yeti—waiting right behind it—drove a front kick straight into the closer guard's chest.
He hadn't even begun to react; he actually laughed at the absurdity—how could an injured slip of a girl punt him across the room?
Besides, he wore a thin breastplate under his tunic… or so he'd have liked to think.
Reality struck an instant later.
"Boom!"
The impact was so powerful the breastplate caved inward; blood spewed from his mouth as he flew backward.
The second guard froze, cat-like eyes wide.
How could that battered little body generate such force?
But he was a veteran soldier; instinct snapped into place. He yanked the longsword from his belt and slashed at Yeti.
"Shhhk!"
Steel hissed through the air toward her small frame.
Yeti met his gaze, utterly cold, dipped beneath the blade, and stepped in. Her fist hammered into the man's breastplate.
"Boom!"
The plate dented; the guard gagged up blood.
The first guard, staggering back to his feet, swung his own sword.
Yeti caught the weapon, twisted, and ripped it from his grip.
"Clang!"
The blade spun away and clattered on the stones.
Showing not a flicker of mercy, she glided forward and cleaved the second guard's throat cleanly in two strokes.
"Shhhk!"
Blood fountained, spraying her face. His eyes bulged; his head toppled to the floor.
Yeti then kicked the corpse aside, drove the sword point through the first guard's skull, and cracked it open. Blood and white fluids splashed across her rags.
"Hah… hah… hah…"
Her breathing thundered; her heart hammered close to 180 beats a minute—high enough to feel as if it might burst.
"Huuuh…"
She exhaled once, forcing herself to focus. If she stood frozen here she'd certainly die.
Even with twice a normal human's strength, she wasn't invincible; ten trained soldiers could still overwhelm her, and she had no combat technique.
Where to run? She was still deciding when a voice echoed from another cell.
One of the two guards slid a key from his belt and leisurely worked it into the lock.
The other guard, utterly careless, let his gaze wander; why keep a sharp eye on a battered slip of a girl who was barely old enough to be here?
The heavy door swung wide. Yeti, standing just behind it, shot a front-kick straight into the first guard's chest.
The man hadn't even processed what was happening; he actually barked a laugh—how could a half-dead child boot him across the room?
Besides, he wore a thin breastplate. Surely that would—
"BOOM!"
The impact folded the breastplate inward; blood sprayed from the guard's mouth as he sailed backward and crashed to the floor.
The second guard froze, catlike, astonished. How could an injured, under-sized body generate such force?
Yet he was a veteran; reflex snapped into place. Steel rasped as he drew his longsword and hacked at Yeti.
"Shiiiiik!"
The blade whistled down toward her. Yeti met his eyes—ice-cold—slipped under the cut, stepped in, and slammed a fist into his chest.
"BOOM!"
The plate dented; the man doubled, vomiting blood.
The first guard staggered up, swung wildly. Yeti snatched his sword, twisted, and wrenched it free.
*CLANG!*
Metal rang off the stones.
Mercy never crossed her mind. She pivoted, two clean strokes—one slashed the second guard's throat, the next split his skull. Blood and gray fluid splattered her rags.
Panting, heart hammering near 180 beats per minute, she forced herself to focus—standing still meant certain death.
While she searched for a way out, a hoarse voice drifted from the largest cell.
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