Chapter 9: A Night of Firsts

“Shield your eyes, Adam.”

The words hit suddenly. Adam didn’t understand what she meant, then memories of his time in the dungeon surged to the forefront of his mind, of when she’d made him swear that oath. In his hesitation, he had no time to fully prepare as a sudden burst of light erupted from Elsa, curling and writhing around her like molten gold, radiating from every seam of her armor, from the tips of her crimson hair, and down to the soles of her boots.

The golden light spilled brightly across the cracked concrete and rusted metal of the warehouse, and an intense heat swelled, enveloping the entire space. Adam’s eyes burned even as he raised his arm, and his skin felt like it was melting off his face from the boiling heat. He stumbled backward, his heart pounding inside his chest. He wanted to scream, to cry, it felt like his whole body was disintegrating. He didn’t know how long it lasted, maybe a few seconds at most, but it felt like an eternity of torment. Then, in a blur of motion, she was gone, as though she hadn’t been standing in front of him a second ago.

As Elsa’s form vanished, the blistering heat and blinding radiance ebbed just enough for Adam to see again. Half of the figures circling around them stood frozen, stunned and frightened into stillness, the other half—likely on higher tiers—pressed forward still with weapons drawn, their faces twisted in sneers. But they didn’t make it too close. A flare of gold light split the air as Elsa reappeared before one of them, barely seconds later, her twin swords drawn and gleaming like the sun itself. Her blades crossed once in a blur, and the man’s sneer vanished with his head, a spray of red painting the air as his body crumpled to the floor like a doll. The echo of the strike sliced through the stunned silence.

Elsa straightened, her form still wreathed in molten gold. She raised one sword high and in an instant, hundreds of blades shimmered into existence around her, each one made of pure light, hovering in the air above her head as if awaiting command. Then, with a flick of her wrist, they hurled toward the ground like a deadly storm, as though punishment from a god. The air shrieked as the blades descended down, each streak of light tearing through the enclosed space like meteors, ripping apart concrete and steel alike.

The warehouse erupted into chaos, the air filled with screams, the thunder of impact, and the thud of bodies hitting the floor. Adam watched as one of the light-blades slammed into a man, he didn’t get a chance to react before he was split clean in half. Adam’s breath caught in his throat at the gruesome sight, and his mind yelled at him to scramble away, to find cover, but he quickly realized that none of the attacks were reaching him.

It wasn’t thoughtless, Elsa guided every strike with unerring precision, a relentless storm directed by her will. Still, a few of the attackers managed to resist, forcing her barrage to collide against their own magic. Adam saw a wall of ice surge upward at the thrust of a man’s hands, frost forming into a crystalline barrier just as a blade of light smashed against it. Another shielded himself and his allies with a thick dome of wind, while the man, Asher Galleel, struck the ground with his axe, raising a jagged wall from the concrete. It was a kind of battle Adam had never witnessed before, one that could not exist on Earth.

He knew this was a world of magic, but seeing it unfold before his eyes revealed its staggering scale. Amid the danger, the death, Adam’s pulse raced, his senses overwhelmed by a power that made everything he had ever known seem fragile and insignificant.

With his vision still half-blinded and his body reeling from the lingering burn of her light magic, Adam staggered back in utter amazement, his back crashing into a wall.

A silence fell over the warehouse as Elsa’s onslaught relented, then like an angel of death, she surged forward toward the surviving enemies with impossible speed, a golden blur of lethal intent that he could barely track. Every motion flowed seamlessly into the next—deflecting, parrying, striking—no move was wasted or done without purpose. Two men charged at her from opposite sides. She pivoted, swords flashing to meet their swings, before her blades tore through their flesh like paper. Someone screamed, and immediately jagged rocks and a bolt of fire hurtled toward her. With a single, precise, downward slash, Elsa’s sword cut through the assault. Rocks splintered into shards, flames guttered into sparks, and she shot toward them like the sun personified, untouchable, inevitable.

Adam could do nothing but watch, useless, frozen in awe. Every swing, every burst of light, every scream blended together into utter chaos. He’d thought he’d seen violence before, on screens, in games, even in that alley, but this was something else entirely.

It wasn’t a battle, it was execution...

“She’s really a monster, sometimes even I forget it,” Elliot muttered almost silently beside him, then began to move forward to join the fray, the silver gleam of his armor dull compared to Elsa’s radiance. “But I can’t let her handle everything.” A faint aura flickered around him, a low white light racing across his body, crawling up his neck and arms. He exhaled sharply, and then he was gone from sight, reappearing halfway across the room in a blink. If not for the gust of wind, Adam would’ve believed he teleported.

The knight pounced suddenly on an attacker, his blade punching through the man’s chest, then tore out again in a burst of red mist. Another attacker lunged at him with a sharp cry, and he spun, catching the strike with his forearm before driving his blade through the man’s throat. He didn’t even look to confirm the kill.

He was a monster too...

The sound of battle—the screams, metal clashing metal, boots scraping against dirt and blood, the crackling roar of magic—it all rushed over Adam.

Elsa moved as if in a dream, her glaring light streaking across the warehouse as she cut down the enemies that closed in around her. Asher Galleel, the tattooed bastard who’d spoken earlier, was one of the few still standing. A jagged crack split the ground beneath his feet as he brought his axe down in murderous rage. The floor erupted into a forest of stone spikes, far too many of them, lunging toward Elsa with terrifying speed.

She didn’t flinch. Raising a single sword high, the light shifted around her, gathering and shaping, not into the golden blades from before but into a towering shield of pure light standing before her. The stone spears slammed against it and shattered into dust.

Elsa stepped forward once ... then vanished.

A sonic crack split the air as she reappeared in front of him, her twin blades crossing in a flash. His battle-axe swung up just in time to block and sparks of light burst from where their weapons met, sending shockwaves through the floor. The man was strong—incredibly strong, Adam realized—as he managed to hold her off. But Elsa was relentless, her strikes coming as fast as lightning. All he could do was defend against them.

Just then, Adam noticed movements from the shadows.

One of the survivors from Elsa’s light-blade barrage, wounded and enraged, lurched toward him. Adam’s stomach dropped. The man’s left arm was utterly mangled, as if it had been put into a meat grinder, but his right hand was fine, clutching a long sword. His face was wild, mouth twisted into a snarl. It didn’t look like he even knew where he was.

Adam felt the wall at his back, reminding him there was no escape. He wrapped his fingers tighter around the dagger Elsa had given him, and his heart hammered wildly inside his chest. Even maimed and disoriented, the man was a former adventurer, Adam wondered if he stood any chance. Still, he had to fight. He had no choice. No help was coming. Elliot was pinned back by two men, and Elsa hadn’t finished her fight.

His jaw tightened...

The man swung his sword, and Adam ducked. The blade whizzed past his shoulder, leaving a shallow wound, and it was enough to send a jolt of panic through him. He didn’t scream though, instead, instinct and desperation gripped him and he lunged toward the man without thought or consideration, just thrusting the dagger forward. It drove into the man’s chest with a wet squelch. The man twisted, groaning as blood poured from his mouth. He raised his sword to strike again, and Adam pushed the dagger deeper. The man stumbled back, then collapsed to the ground with a heavy, trembling thud, and stayed still.

Adam watched as a thick red river pooled underneath the body. The man was dead, without question. He was dead. His chest no longer rose with breath, and his lifeless eyes stared up into nothing. Adam had killed him. He’d killed someone, for real this time. The sound of the battle dying down reached him, but all he could focus on was the body as his feet, and his utter lack of feeling toward it. If anything, there was slight satisfaction,

A hand landed on his shoulder, and Adam spun around, almost in panic, to see Elliot by his side again. “You handled yourself well,” the knight said. “Looks like it’s over.”

At his words, Adam drew sharp breaths and returned to the moment. There was utter quiet in the warehouse now, save for Asher Galleel’s low groans as he stared at Elsa across the ruined floor, his axe still clutched in his trembling hands, chest heaving, eyes dark and hollow with exhaustion. It looked as though it took all of his remaining strength just to stay upright, while Elsa stood poised, unbowed, as if the battle hadn’t cost her anything.

Truly, the fight was over, but he hadn’t yet accepted it.

He screamed, charging toward her and swinging his axe wildly. She sidestepped the attack easily, and her right blade flicked out, tearing a line across his chest.

He stumbled back, panting, fury twisting his face. “You—”

The man didn’t finish the words as Elsa raised her hand and every light-blade she’d summoned turned, aligning toward him. Then, the blades moved as one. They fell like rain, piercing through armor and flesh alike. The world filled with the hiss of air splitting apart and the sickening sound of tearing flesh and bones. When the glow faded, the man was on his knees, his axe slipping from his numb fingers, his body a ruin of cuts and light-seared wounds. The warehouse fell quiet again, no screams, no footsteps, no clash of weapons, just the faint crackle of dying magic and the man’s labored final breaths.

He coughed and spat blood onto the floor. “Looks ... like you win,” he rasped and a slow grin spread on his face. “It’s a shame ... we could’ve—”

“The children,” Elsa said sharply as the light surrounding her dimmed until only the faint gold sheen of her armor remained. “Tell me where they are.”

He chuckled weakly. “Stick your tongue up my ass ... then maybe I’ll tell you—”

Elsa’s blade flashed just once, and the man’s crude words ended in a wet thud as his head rolled free from his neck, hitting the ground beside his knees. For a moment, the world went utterly still. Then, she exhaled a quiet breath, as if she’d merely finished a set of drills rather than slaughtered over half a dozen men. She was insanely powerful, Adam only got the full scale now. He could still feel the heat of her magic on his skin just from that brief exposure, and he felt that she hadn’t even gone all out. He suspected that he, along with the warehouse, would’ve been reduced to ash if she hadn’t been restraining herself.