Chương 53: Chapter 52: Jorm and Gund

The Yenas family were the worst kind of rot. Some thieves tried to convince people they were family while betraying each other every single day. They had terrorized this part of the city for years, and no guild bothered with them. They weren't worth the paperwork. But they were worth this. It was enough. Jorm bounded freely from rooftop to rooftop, the cold night air biting through her cloak as she cleared an entire house in a single bound.

Two more leaps, and the Yenas headquarters loomed out of the dark, sickly yellow candlelight bleeding through the cracks in its rotting wooden shutters. She had begged them before. She had stood in the dirt and offered them a monthly tax just to leave them alone. She had tried everything, and they wouldn't listen. The two-story building drew closer. Gund pulled at her shoulder with every step. It's so heavy, Papa, she remembered saying once. Of course it's heavy. It should be heavy. Swords are not cool, Jorm.

His voice echoed out of a past so distant she sometimes wondered if she was just inventing the warmth in it. I mean, yeah, they look cool, but they're horrible. They're literally made to hack and dismember people— Desmond! Her mother's sharp reprimand drifted from the porch. I mean, they are just made to kill. He had knelt then, putting a massive hand over her small ones. Before you carry it, you need to understand that. When you carry a sword, you are choosing to protect what matters to you. No matter the cost.

It's a cost I wish you never have to pay, my Jorry. I understand. I want to pay. Why is it still heavy, Papa? Ooh, look, you're carrying it! Hahaha. I did! Wait, no... you're helping with Resonance again! It was heavy. Jorm gripped Gund in her right hand as she fell, weaving another sword into her left. She didn't bother with the latch, hitting the front door boots-first and exploding the wood into shrapnel. Two thugs at a card table turned, faces slack with shock, but it was too late.

Jorm's blades were already driving into their abdomens, launching them backward until they crashed through opposite walls in a shower of plaster and splintered timber. She froze, staring at the steel in her hands. There was no blood. She had turned the edges at the last possible fraction of a second, hitting them with the flat of the blades. No, her pulse hammered against her ribs. No, I need to kill them. I have to do this— A sharp whistle sliced the air.

Jorm tilted her head at the last second, feeling the wind of a throwing dagger as it clipped the edge of her hood. It buried itself to the hilt in the floorboards. She looked up, watching dozens of criminals pour into the dim hallway, drawn steel catching the yellow light. The two she had just launched winced as they dragged themselves up.

"I'll gut you for that," one of them spat. Jorm felt the weight of her two blades grow even heavier than before. Breathing became a bit harder.

"Where's—" she started, before being cut off by the very man she was asking about. He descended the stairs behind the mob, swaying drunkenly. The men split apart as he faced Jorm.

"Who the hell are you?" he slurred. Jorm pulled off her snake mask and dropped it to the floorboards.

"Hunch," she said.

"Jorm?" Hunch replied with a snort.

"You have awakened."

"Where's our money, Hunch?" Jorm fought for the words to leave her throat.

"Well, it's there," Hunch gestured loosely to a table.

"And there," he pointed at a lantern.

"It's everywhere. It's been days since I took it. You think I still have it?"

"Then you have to pay it back, please," Jorm said.

"We need to fix our house before the Rain comes—""You know the Alloys were looking for you," Hunch said, his eyes narrowing.

"The Alloys, Jorm. They don't just look for anybody. What did you do?"

"Please, Hunch. Just give me something so I can fix our house," Jorm pleaded.

"Now, why would I do that?" Hunch pulled closer, his steps slow and deliberate. Jorm raised her weapons.

"You know why."

"No, I don't." Hunch stopped right in front of her, letting his head tilt to the side.

"How is it fair that we're missing furniture when cowards such as yourselves make a whole renewal? When I heard Merideth was looking for workers, I couldn't believe it." He turned around, facing away from her.

"So I had to go and check for myself. You all are so selfish." Jorm tightened her grip on the hilt.

"Twelve O'clock!" she shouted, swinging with everything she had. But she stopped. The blades hovered a hair from his neck. He hadn't even flinched. Why? Why? Why can't I do it? He clenched his fist, his knuckles whitening.

"You still believe it, don't you?" He sighed, slowly easing his grip as his hand fell to his side. He walked away, disappearing between his men. A bolt of lightning cracked from one of the goons, throwing Jorm backward. When she recovered, an axe was already descending toward her head. She leaned hard to the side. A hammer followed it; she blocked with the sword in her right hand, but the sheer impact launched her across the room, crashing into the man with the axe just as he prepared another strike.

The man with the hammer pursued her. A white flash illuminated her periphery—another bolt of lightning was coming. As the hammer descended, Jorm caught its heavy iron head between her two Gunds. She pulled the man toward her as she fell onto her back, using his momentum to drag him over her body just before the lightning struck his side, launching him entirely out of the building. Three daggers converged on her. She blanketed herself with her woven blade, the daggers bouncing off its surface.

One came in slightly too high, slicing a hot scratch across her arm. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. A brutal kick to her back sent her flying upward. She slammed into the wooden ceiling, driving her swords into the timber to hold herself suspended. Another blast of lightning roared toward her.

Pushing against the ceiling with all her might, she left the fake Gund embedded in the wood to absorb the blast, dropping down to drive the flat of the real Gund into the man who kicked her, smashing him into the floor. She watched the man weaving lightning behind Hunch—who was just watching with a smile—ready to launch another blast. She lunged toward him, but someone tackled her hard to the ground.

She instantly wove another Gund, ready to strike back, but the men with the axe and daggers expanded their Fields, violently ripping the swords from her grip. The man she had just engaged punched her hard in the face. Disoriented, Jorm felt something wet shifting behind her nose. She tried to turn, but another punch sprayed blood from her nostrils. She struck out blindly with a woven blade, but they snatched that one away, too.

A heavy boot drove into her chest, crushing her against the floor hard enough to crack the boards beneath her and force the air from her lungs.

"Stop," she choked out. The man with the axe jumped into the air, the heavy blade descending straight toward the middle of her face.

"Stop," Hunch said. The axe froze inches above her nose. Jorm felt like a thousand ants were crawling over her skin. A violent shiver ripped through her body. She was about to die. Am I going to die?

"But Hunch," the man with the axe said.

"I said stop," Hunch ordered. The man with the axe froze.

"Well," Hunch pulled closer.

"I don't know what I was actually expecting. Thought with your confidence you would at least put up a fight." Jorm couldn't contain the sob that escaped her, a breathless sound followed by hot tears.

"Oh, great," Hunch sighed.

"What did we do to you?" Jorm's breath hitched.

"Nothing." Hunch said mockingly.

"That's the problem. You never bothered with us. And even now, you still think it." His voice turned sharp with anger.

"You still believe that you are better than us." Jorm tried to move, but the heavy boot on her chest pushed down harder.

"When your father was still with us, none of us could even look in your direction. You were untouchable while we were living off the dirt. You thought your superiority was a given. No. You were just lucky. Look at you now." Hunch smiled, a slow, ugly thing.

"How pathetic you are. One day he was the Desmond, the next, lawless peasants crippled his wife, and now they're about to do the same to his daughter." Jorm pushed against the foot crushing her, but it didn't budge. Instead, something gave way in her chest with a sharp crack, and a breathless cry tore from her throat.

"Why am I so weak?" she sobbed.

"Exactly!" Hunch clapped his hands together once.

"That's it. It's all about strength, nothing else. Your father was better than us in that regard. You and your mother? Not so much. So why act like it?" He leaned in closer.

"You see, the truth is," his voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, "you're not better than us because you refuse to kill. You're just trying to mask the underlying defect. The real reason you can't do it." Her thrashing intensified, her panic mounting as he loomed over her.

"You are selfish," Hunch spat.

"People don't do things to others that they themselves are afraid of. You don't want to kill because you are terrified of death."

"Stop," Jorm ground out, her teeth clenched, her whole body violently shivering.

"Tell me, Jorry. Who fears death the most?"

"Stop. Stop."

"That's right, it's cowards like—" Jorm wove a Gund so fast the metal manifested glowing red-hot. In a single, blinding motion, she drove the searing blade straight up into the axe-man's stomach. Blood gushed out in a hot wave, splashing across her face. He staggered backward, intestines spilling onto the floorboards with a sickening wet slap. The mob froze, shock rippling through them as they turned toward the dying man. She swung her blade and severed the leg pinning her to the floor just below the knee.

The man cried out, but Jorm was already swinging again, splitting him in half. Hunch started laughing maniacally.

"There it is! There it is!" he cheered, scrambling backward as Jorm dragged herself up. She stood, breathing heavily, chest heaving. Through the blood masking her face, her eyes locked dead on him. Jorm hurled her woven blade right past Hunch's smiling face. It spun like a windmill, burying itself into the chest of the man trying to summon another bolt of lightning, pinning him to the wall. Throwing her hands back, Jorm cast her Field outward, reaching for the weapons they had ripped from her.

Gund tore itself from the dagger-wielder's shocked grip. The second blade flew from the floorboards, both weapons snapping back into her shaking hands as she bolted toward Hunch. She was vibrating with pure rage.

"Twelve O'clock!" she screamed. The blades descended—and stopped. But not because she hesitated. Hunch caught them. He snatched the razor edges of both swords bare-handed, his palms bleeding but his grip like iron. Jorm pushed, trying to shear through his fingers, but they wouldn't give. She stared into his eyes, blinking against his smug smile.

"See," he whispered.

"You're no different than us." He slammed his forehead into hers with a sickening crack. Jorm staggered backward, her vision exploding into white static. She was losing her balance. Her fingers went numb, and her swords slipped away, clattering somewhere in the dark. A second later, the floorboards slammed into the back of her head.

"That was fun," Hunch said, casually wiping the blood from her blades onto his coat.

"Really fun. You see, Jorm, under other circumstances, I would've hired you. But now I'm officially part of the Silver Bastion. I was actually just here to say goodbye to these gentlemen before you came here with your little murder spree."

"Sekar—" she coughed, tasting copper.

"He's... hiring criminals now?"

"It appears so, yes." Hunch turned to the surviving mob.

"Well, I'm done with her. You can have your revenge however you like it." He waved a hand over his shoulder, heading for the stairs.

"So long, Jorm." The men drew closer. Some faces were twisted with grief and rage; others were alight with sick excitement. Jorm tried to stand but only managed a pathetic stagger. She was so weak. The weakest on the team. Why couldn't she just be as strong as her father? Now she was going to die here on dirty floorboards. She couldn't kill them all. Worse, the darkness was already eating the edges of her vision. Her breath rattled in her chest.

"You are going to beg for death," one man sneered, raising his blade. Jorm closed her eyes. Please, gods, anything. Please. She reached deep within herself, blindly searching the dark corners of her soul for an escape, for somewhere to hide from the regret. But she didn't find an escape. She found something else. Something heavy. Like a lever. With nothing left to lose, she pulled it. No sword fell. She couldn't open her eyes. She couldn't move a single muscle. Did it strike? What's going on? Panic flared.

She couldn't breathe. The air in her lungs was running out fast, a terrible burning sensation spreading through her chest. In her desperation, she accidentally expanded her Field around her head in her internal thrashing. Suddenly, she managed a deep, ragged gasp. Her eyes snapped open to the strangest sight. The world was frozen. Or rather, everything outside her Field was. No, not entirely frozen—she watched the executioner's blade inching toward her face at an extremely slow crawl. What is this?

Her eyes darted and found Hunch's statuesque form in the distance. The cold creep of unconsciousness was already settling over her. She was bleeding out. She needed to kill him before her body fell down. She tried to lunge forward, but she was trapped. The air itself felt solid around her body. She expanded her Field just enough to free the rest of her body, forcing her Resonance outward to coat herself and her fallen blades, melting the solidified time around them like thawing ice.

She could finally move, and she didn't waste a heartbeat. She snatched her blades and sheared the executioner in half, the vibration of steel grinding through his spine traveling up her arms. She stepped forward, melting the air as she moved, and split a second man open. Her vision was fading at the edges. She decapitated a third. The distance to Hunch was too great. She wasn't going to make it.

In a final, desperate burst of strength, she launched her body through the air, pointing the tips of both blades at Hunch's back. If she lost consciousness mid-leap, her speed would have to carry her the rest of the way— Everything faded to black.