SLASH!
Sous drove the sword into the first throat before the guard even understood someone was behind him. The steel parted flesh in a single decisive movement. Hot blood pushed over her fingers as she yanked the body backward to silence it.
His legs twitched once, then fell still. She let him slump to the ground and moved on without pausing.
The second guard turned at the wet sound of death. She was already airborne. Her foot collided with his jaw so hard teeth scattered across the alley. Before he could collapse, she cut open his chest with a clean diagonal sweep. His heart slid halfway out before he toppled. She kept going; there wad more.
There was no thought, only the pulse of the hunt. The ghetto behind the walls was silent, people hiding, waiting, hoping. Sous did not intend to let them wait long.
A third guard stood near the rusted barricades, bored, scratching his neck. She tore his throat from behind with her bare hand, nails ripping through the soft skin.
Blood fountained upward in a wide arc. She shoved him forward so the spray wouldn't hit her eyes. He gurgled, stumbled a step, then crashed to the dirt.
A fourth heard something and called out to the others. Sous was already there. She grabbed his jaw and twisted it.
CRUNCH!
Bone snapped. He dropped without even seeing her face.
Five. She counted the kills only because she needed to know how many were left. Not out of mercy, but efficiency. She wanted none of them escaping.
She slid into the next shadow, watching two guards talking quietly. One smoked, the ember glowing red in the darkness. She approached from behind, stabbed the smoker through the spine, then pulled the blade upward, carving a long channel that split his back open. He screamed while the other guard froze.
She sprinted, seized the second man by the hair, and slammed his head against the wall.
CRASH!
The crunch was satisfying. He crumpled. She crushed his windpipe under her boot.
She dragged the screaming one aside to finish him, but his scream had already spread. More guards were coming. Good. She preferred it this way.
Seven. Eight. She released the raspy half corpse and stepped into the open courtyard as fifteen guards rushed in from different angles. Their torches and flashlights flickered wildly as they realized she was alone.
They formed a half circle. She walked toward them with steady, deliberate steps.
The first ran at her. She cut him across the stomach so his insides spilled out in a sloppy pile. He fell to his knees trying to shove them back in. She kicked him aside, ending the pathetic attempt.
Four rushed her together. She ducked low, sliced behind one's knee, severing the tendon and dropping him instantly. She spun, drove an elbow into another's nose so violently the bone shot into his skull.
CRUNK!
He died on the spot. She caught the third by the wrist, snapped the arm, then stabbed him in the eye. The fourth tried to retreat. She hurled her sword into his chest. It embedded between his ribs. He gasped and clawed at the handle.
She walked over, retrieved it with a sharp tug that tore open a long gash across his torso.
More shouting. More feet pounding the gravel. The courtyard filled. Perfect, she was ready for all of them.
Sous rushed forward, plunging into the mass of bodies like a storm. She sliced through limbs, throats, faces. Arterial spray coated the ground.
Warm blood streaked her skin. A guard swung at her from behind. She ducked, tore open his achilles, then stabbed upward, burying the blade under his chin and out the top of his skull.
A spear pierced the air where she had been a moment ago. She spun behind the wielder, took his head in both hands, and ripped it free.
CRACK!
The spine tore loose with a wetness. She tossed the severed head into a cluster of guards, then used the dangling spine like a whip, striking two more across the face. Their skin split violently from the bone fragments.
One of them screamed and tried to run. She chased him, grabbed him by the back of the neck, and slammed him to the ground hard enough to split his skull. Blood pooled instantly.
Another guard attempted to stab her. She let the blade scrape past her ribs, then rammed her weapon into his mouth so deeply the tip burst out through the side of his cheek. She twisted until teeth shattered.
They fell one after another. She moved fast, precise, lethal. A blur of muscle and cold purpose. She felt nothing but the thrum of her dominance filling the night.
Bodies piled at her feet.
Still more guards arrived. The last line before the inner quarters.
One fired a shot. The bullet grazed her arm. She didn't flinch. She charged him, slammed her shoulder into his sternum, driving him into the wall.
She stabbed him six times in rapid succession, each thrust burying the blade deeper and widening the wound until his chest resembled torn fabric. She let him drop in a heap.
Two remaining guards backed away, terrified. She advanced slowly now, savoring their fear. One begged while the other raised a trembling weapon.
She sliced the gun from his hand, cut his arm off at the elbow, then decapitated him in one smooth motion. The head flew and landed several feet away, rolling to a stop with its eyes still blinking.
The last guard was frozen, shaking uncontrollably. Sous stepped in front of him.
"You kept them locked here," she said softly.
He whimpered.
She drove her hand through his abdomen, fingers closing around his spine. She tore it outward. He collapsed in two pieces.
Silence fell.
Only her breathing remained, steady and unbroken.
She walked through the slaughtered path toward the gates of the ghetto. The people inside would hear the quiet. They would know what it meant but she wasn't finished.
There were still guards stationed on the rooftops, watching from above. She sensed them. She could practically smell their fear.
She leapt onto a wall, climbed upward effortlessly, and vaulted onto the nearest roof. A guard pointed a crossbow at her. She closed the distance before he fired, grabbing the crossbow, smashing it into his face. His cheekbone pierced through his skin. She forced him to his knees and sliced his throat cleanly.
Another aimed at her from across the roof. She ran straight through the rain of bolts, dodging with practiced ease. She kicked him in the chest, sending him rolling over the edge. His scream cut short when he hit the ground.
She followed the rooftops like a predator following a scent and the heat her antennas allowed her to see, moving from building to building, killing every lookout in her way. Blood dripped from the edges of the roofs, painting long red streaks on the walls below.
By the time she reached the final outpost, only one guard remained. He stood shaking, sword clattering in his hand. Sous approached him slowly, deliberately, letting him understand exactly how hopeless it was.
He tried to swing.
She caught the blade with her palm, ignored the shallow cut, and yanked it free from his grip. She rotated the sword, then rammed it through his torso with such force it pinned him against the wooden pillar behind him. His body hung there twitching.
Sous wiped her weapon on his clothes and stepped away. The night air settled and now the ghetto was free.
No horns blared, no triumphant shouts filled the sky. The liberation began with quiet, the kind born from terror lifting for the first time.
Sous walked back toward the main street. The bodies she had left behind spread across the dirt like discarded shadows. She did not look at them twice, but before she left, she stuck her flag into the soil. Sousland.