The cold stone walls echoed with heavy footsteps. Roxy ran through the narrow castle halls, her breath sharp and quick. The air smelled of iron and smoke — the kind that clung to battlefields and never left.
Behind her, the clanging of armor grew louder.
Roxy turned the corner, her boots slipping a little on the smooth marble. She looked back and saw their swords shining in the torchlight.
"Persistent," she muttered, catching her breath.
For five long minutes she ran, weaving through corridors and broken stairways. Arrows whistled past her shoulder, striking the walls with dull cracks. Her pulse steadied, not from fear — but focus.
Then she stopped.
The hall ahead was long and empty, torches flickering against the cracked walls. Roxy's eyes narrowed. This distance should be enough.
She turned sharply, her sword already rising. The first soldier came rushing toward her — his face hidden behind a black helmet. With one clean motion, she stepped forward and cut him down.
Two more followed. Roxy spun, steel flashing, slicing through the air. Both fell before they could even cry out.
The hall went quiet again — except for the echo of her blade returning to its sheath.
She took a slow breath and glanced down the corridor. Shadows moved beyond the light — more soldiers closing in.
"Fifteen," she whispered under her breath after counting the footsteps. "Alright… I can take them."
Her stance tightened. The torchlight caught in her blue eyes — calm, sharp, and ready.
When the next wave of soldiers charged, Roxy smiled faintly.
"This is going to be fun."
Without waiting for them to make the first move, Roxy charged forward.
The hallway filled with the sound of metal and shouts. Her blade moved faster than the eye could follow — clean, sharp strikes that left no room for hesitation. One by one, the soldiers fell. In less than a minute, the corridor was silent again, littered with motionless bodies.
Roxy exhaled slowly and wiped the blood from her blade.
"That's done," she whispered to herself, ready to move on.
But then she stopped.
From the far end of the hall, two figures appeared. They weren't like the others — heavier armor, slower steps, but a different kind of presence. Even their calm walk carried weight.
One of them smirked, his voice deep and rough.
"So, she's the one who slipped into the castle?" he said, laughing as if it were a joke.
Roxy didn't answer. Her eyes locked onto them, her grip tightening on the sword's handle. She stepped forward, fast and silent.
In a heartbeat, she swung. The blade sliced through the air — perfect aim, deadly speed — but both men moved at the same time, dodging with surprising agility. Her strike cut nothing but air.
The taller one chuckled, raising his weapon. "Not bad… looks like this one's different."
Roxy steadied herself, eyes fixed on them. These two weren't like the other guards. They were stronger… sharper… more experienced.
The torches flickered between them, shadows dancing across their armor. The air grew heavier — calm before the next clash.
The two soldiers moved.
One lunged straight at Roxy, his sword swinging down from above. She sidestepped just in time, sparks flying as steel scraped against stone.
The second came from the side, swinging a heavy blade aimed at her ribs. Roxy blocked it, the clash echoing through the corridor.
The impact pushed her back a step.
She twisted her wrist and struck back, fast and sharp. Her sword sliced across the first man's chest, but his armor took most of the blow.
He barely flinched and stepped forward again, moving with surprising speed.
The second soldier grinned, spinning his blade in one hand.
"Quick little mouse," he taunted.
Roxy ignored him and rushed forward.
Their swords met again and again, the clash of metal echoing through the corridor like thunder.
Every strike was sharp, every movement precise — but neither side could find a real opening.
Then, in one sudden motion, Roxy feinted low and slashed upward.
Her blade grazed the first soldier's cheek, leaving a thin line of red.
He stumbled back, touching the cut, his grin fading.
"You'll pay for that," he growled, eyes turning cold.
Roxy steadied her stance, breathing calmly despite the sweat running down her neck.
"You talk too much," she said quietly.
The other soldier lifted his sword, smirking.
"Then let's see if you can still talk after this."
Both men stepped forward together, their blades raised — and the battle began again, fiercer than before.
Roxy gritted her teeth and stepped forward again. She could feel her heartbeat pounding in her ears — steady, focused.
The soldier with the cut on his cheek lunged first, his blade swinging wide. Roxy ducked under it, sparks bursting as their weapons scraped together. She pushed forward, sliding past his guard, and drove her sword into his leg.
The steel sank deep. He shouted in pain and dropped to one knee, blood spreading fast across the floor.
But before Roxy could pull her blade free, the second soldier was already behind her.
"Too slow," he hissed.
His sword thrust forward — she turned, but not fast enough. The blade pierced her upper arm, cutting through the muscle.
Roxy gasped, pain burning down her side. Her sword fell slightly, her right arm trembling and weak. She tried to lift it, but it wouldn't move properly anymore.
The man smirked, twisting his blade before pulling it out.
"Got you," he said with a cruel grin.
Roxy stumbled back a step, clutching her injured arm. Blood dripped between her fingers, but her eyes stayed locked on him — calm, defiant.
Even wounded, she refused to retreat.
Roxy's breath came sharp and shallow. Her wounded arm ached, but her eyes stayed locked on her two enemies. The one she had stabbed was struggling to rise, fury burning in his face. The other raised his blade again, confident the fight was already won.
But in the next heartbeat — Roxy vanished.
A flash of movement. The sound of air cutting like a whip.
Before either man could react, Roxy reappeared right in front of the wounded soldier. Her sword gleamed under the torchlight — a silver streak too fast to follow.
"I have to finish this," she thought, her mind cold and focused.
In one clean motion, her blade sliced through his neck.
A single drop of blood hung in the air before falling. His body dropped to the floor with a heavy thud, eyes still wide with shock.
The second man froze, disbelief spreading across his face.
"Impossible—!" he muttered, tightening his grip on the sword.
He roared and charged, swinging down at her exposed back — but his strike met only air.
Roxy's figure blurred again, vanishing right as his blade cut through where she'd stood.
Then, behind him—
A whisper of steel.
The man's eyes widened as the tip of Roxy's sword burst through his chest from behind. He coughed, blood staining his lips.
Roxy leaned closer, her voice low and steady. "Now… who is slow."
She pulled her blade free as he fell forward, collapsing beside his fallen partner.
The hallway fell silent. Only Roxy's quiet breaths and the soft drip of blood broke the stillness. She stood tall, one hand clutching her wounded arm, the other gripping her sword.
Even injured, she seemed unstoppable — a blur of speed and precision no soldier could match.
Torchlight flickered across the blood-stained floor, casting long shadows over the fallen. Her breathing gradually slowed as the rush of battle faded into a heavy, eerie calm.
She looked down at the two soldiers — motionless now, their armor cracked and darkened with blood.
With a faint smirk, she wiped her blade on one of their cloaks and slid it back into its sheath. The sound of metal meeting leather echoed softly through the hall.
"If you two had fought me a year ago," she said, her voice calm but edged with pride, "you might have won."
She turned slightly, the firelight catching in her blue eyes.
For a moment, the castle seemed to hold its breath — only the faint wind from a broken window stirred the silence. Roxy straightened, steady despite the blood running down her arm.
Then she took one quiet step forward, ready to continue her mission.
Roxy stood in the middle of the corridor.
She took a breath, steadying herself. I have to get out of here, she thought. The nearest window led to the castle wall, but with one arm useless, climbing down was almost impossible.
The sound of heavy boots echoed from the hallway ahead — reinforcements were coming.
Her eyes darted around, searching for another way. The corridor split in two, both paths crawling with approaching soldiers. Just as her vision blurred for a second from the pain, a shadow appeared near the archway.
A man in a dark cloak stepped out, half his face hidden by a black mask.
"Follow me," he said, voice calm but firm.
Roxy froze, tightening her jaw. She didn't recognize him — his stance wasn't one of the royal soldiers, and his uniform carried no emblem. Her instincts screamed not to trust strangers, especially here.
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