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If it had been the assassin’s real body, then Arwin suspected that Twelve would have made a run for it. He was an assassin after all. Even if he was a higher Tier and more powerful than Arwin and the rest of the Menagerie, that wasn’t a class that lent itself well to a long fight.

But this was a clone — and Twelve had trained Jessen. They shared their arrogance. Fleeing from a fight now would hurt Twelve far more than if he could take out some of the people that had made a joke out of him.

The demon’s eyes locked onto Arwin and he let out a roar, blurring into motion as he charged toward him.

They weren’t in the inn anymore. There were no tables or other objects to hinder Twelve with. The distance between him and Arwin vanished in a split second. Arwin summoned his shield, bracing himself behind it an instant before Twelve’s blade slammed into it.

A loud shriek rang out and he skidded several feet back. He’d barely even seen Twelve attack. There was no way to compete with the assassin at this speed — but Arwin had already known that.

He reached into his pocket and yanked out a bracelet. Twelve’s blade carved across his armor once more, but it failed to penetrate before Arwin could bring the bracelet up to his mouth. He’d made it for a dungeon run but hadn’t ended up having to use it.

Now was as good a time as any.

[Fluttering Band]: Rare Quality

[Light as a Feather]: The spirit of a dancing dove feather is imbued within this item. Its bearer’s movements are increased while it is worn at the cost of a continuous draw of magical energy.

Power exploded through his body and Arwin blurred. He twitched back and Twelve’s eyes split through the air where he’d been a moment before. A roar ripped from the demon as it lunged, striking at him again.

Arwin dodged back once more. Twelve’s knives scraped along his shield as he brought it to bear. The assassin was still faster than him, but he had the defenses and speed to keep up.

My job isn’t to kill him. I’m here to buy time and keep Twelve’s attention. The only situation we truly lose is the one where he runs away. That can’t happen.

Arwin stumbled back, doing his best to block the rain of blows Twelve unleashed upon him. The assassin’s knives carved deep through his armor, cutting into the flesh beneath. He slipped from shadow to shadow as he bore down on Arwin, sensing victory on the horizon.

Each strike sent pain burning through Arwin’s body. He could hear shouts from the crowd and Rodrick’s voice roaring over the top of them, telling everyone that everything was fine — that the Menagerie had everything under control and they had nothing to worry about.

The temptation to fight back gripped Arwin, but he didn’t let it take over. The chances of him landing a proper blow on Twelve were minimal without both Lillia and Reya to back him up.

And even if he did land a strike, it could put Twelve on guard. He had to feel like he was winning.

And so Arwin backpedaled. He took the brunt of the assassin’s assault, grinding his teeth and blocking it as best as he could. Shrieks of metal filled the air. His armor put up a valiant effort, but there was only so much it could take without Arwin properly fighting back.

Every second that dragged on felt like an eternity. The only thing that kept Arwin going was the fact that every extra moment that passed was energy that Twelve wasted. Each second he held out was power that Twelve couldn’t have to fight back against them.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Anna watching from the edge of the crowd. Her knuckles were tight around her staff, ready to jump into action the moment he went down.

The others were all in their own positions. Some called to the crowd, while others prepared attacks. Arwin couldn’t see all of them. He didn’t need to. They were there, ready to play their part.

His foot caught a rock. Arwin stumbled, and Twelve pounced. The assassin slid through a shadow and appeared at his side, a dagger plunging down toward the gap between his chestpiece and his helm.

Arwin twisted, bringing the Wrym’s Revenge up and barely managing to knock Twelve’s arm out of the way in time. The excess speed he’d gotten from the bracelet was running out.

“He’s losing!” an adventurer yelled. “We need to get out of here!”

“Please remain calm,” Lillia’s voice echoed through the air, words that she’d practiced the previous day to perfection. “The Menagerie has this under control. We have preventative measures in place to deal with this situation.”

Twelve’s dagger slammed into Arwin’s shoulder, ripping through the metal and plunging into flesh. Pain exploded through his body. Even with [Indomital Bulwark], there was only so much damage he could take — and Twelve’s weapons were clearly enhanced with magical energy.

He was at his limit.

“Why the hell is there a Demon here in the first place?” someone else yelled as the panicked conversation continued to rise. “That’s a real demon, isn’t it? We need to get out of here!”

Arwin’s back hit the wall. Twelve slashed his daggers down and two streaks of black energy cut through the air. They slammed into Arwin’s chest, carving an X into the center of his armor and biting deep into his flesh.

Energy curled in his chestplate as it absorbed some of the power. Arwin gritted his teeth and staggered, the pain digging deep into his resolve.

Twelve’s eyes glinted. He was a hunter, and he knew the look of weakened prey. Garbled snarls slipped from his lips, probably a taunt that was warped by the bracelet and made indecipherable to everyone but him.

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Then the assassin turned demon lunged, lifting both of his daggers into the air and bringing them down for Arwin’s neck. Darkness gathered around their blades, twisting and churning like a miniature storm.

This clone is really strong. Even as limited as a clone is and without a way to regenerate energy, this thing is a monster. I’d hate to fight the real version of Twelve. He’d probably have killed me already.

Twelve brought the daggers flashing down. A weakened target was an easy target.

Power burned in Arwin’s limbs as he let out a roar and lifted his shield.

Twelve might have been a master assassin, but Arwin had been through more life and death battles than almost anyone else in the kingdom. His entire life had been war, and he’d taken far more damage than this in his fights with Lillia.

Arwin might been injured, but he was far from downed.

He had one last job in this fight. There was only a single blow he had to land, and it was the signal for the rest of the Menagerie to move into the final stage of their plan.

Arwin activated [Avenging Strike].

Black magic twisted through his shield as the ability manifested itself. Twelve’s daggers slammed down onto its surface. A resounding clang rang out.

The Wyrm awakened.

A roar shook the street as black fire erupted from the face of the shield, exploding forth in the shape of a monstrous head. It slammed down on Twelve’s shoulder. The demon stumbled back with a scream of pain, its shoulder coated with molten black flame.

And, as Twelve stumbled back, batting at the fire in attempt to put it out, the rest of the Menagerie burst into action.

Sunlight glinted off a large glass potion bottle. It sailed through the air and struck Twelve straight in the head with a resounding thunk, knocking his head back. The blow was nowhere near enough to do significant damage to someone of his level, but it disoriented him for a brief moment.

And in that moment, Olive burst out from the Infernal Armory, sword clutched in both of her hands. She sprinted across the street and closed the distance between herself and the demon.

Then she swung.

The sword cut through the air, not agonizingly slow like her one-handed strikes, but at the speed of a normal blade. Pure power burned within its blade, a thousand strikes folded over themselves into a single blow.

Twelve spun toward Olive. Even in his state, he was far from easy to take off guard. He could sense the magic burning within Olive’s attack, but he had no plans of letting it connect.

His daggers plunged for her neck. Even with two hands, Olive couldn’t swing her weapon anywhere near as fast as Twelve could. She would be dead before her sword ever grew close to him.

Olive didn’t even flinch. She continued her strike without hesitating.

The daggers drew closer.

Water splashed across the ground.

A clang echoed through the air as Rodrick arrived before Olive, his sword braced before him, stopping Twelve’s attack moments before it could reach its target.

Twelve’s eyes widened. He tried to twist back, but he hadn’t accounted for the possibility that Olive would survive his attack. There was no time to dodge completely.

Her sword connected with his side.

It ripped deep into his stomach, carving across his chest. Blood splattered across the ground and Twelve spun, staggering back across the ground as his chest grew slick. For the first time, fear flickered in his eyes.

The assassin spun.

Shadows rose up around him — and a loud snap echoed through the street over the yells of the crowd.

The darkness fled from Twelve, slithering across the ground to stop at the edge of the tavern.

“I told you,” Lillia said, leaning against the doorway with a weary grin on her features. “These are my shadows.”

Olive lunged for the demon.

The demon crouched. Then, with a roar, he launched himself straight into the air.

No! How?

That shouldn’t have been possible. The whole plan had hinged on Twelve being unable to run without access to his shadows. His clone shouldn’t have had the strength to literally jump that high — but it seemed nobody had told him that.

“I don’t think so,” Olive snarled.

Dozens of loud cracks ground out from her arm. For an instant, her eyes burned a deep, molten red. Her teeth clenched in pain and concentration, her entire body stiffened — and then her eyes snapped back to normal.

She thrust her bandaged arm upward.

And, with a sound like an entire forest uprooting itself, wooden fingers tore through the bindings and reached up through the air. They whistled through the air and drove into the demon, wrapped around its leg, and tightened.

His momentum slammed to an abrupt halt. Olive stumbled, then bared her teeth. She yanked her hand back.

The demon let out a roar as he hurtled through the air and slammed back down onto the street with enough force to shatter the stone beneath him. Olive gave her arm another tug and it retracted, dragging Twelve across the ground in her direction.

“Olive!” Anna hurled a potion through the air in an underhanded toss.

Olive’s sword flashed. It carved through the bottle, coating its blade in the process, and plunged into Twelve’s chest.

A loud sizzling hiss erupted from the demon. He let out an agonized scream, grasping at Olive’s sword and trying to rip it free. Olive pressed it deeper into him. She twisted the blade, then ripped it up through his chest.

The assassin wheezed. He grasped at the weeping wound, back arching in pain. The light in his eyes fluttered.

It blinked out.

Twelve collapsed to the ground.

The entire street went quiet.

Arwin swayed, leaning against the wall of the building for support. The world swam around him, but he refused to let himself pass out. He took a staggering step forward as blood dripped from the massive cuts in his armor.

“The demon is dead!” Madiv yelled, his voice coming from deep within the crowd. “The Menagerie defeated a demon!”

“They brought it here in the first place!” Someone else yelled back.

Arguments and cheers broke out through the crowd. They continued for a few brief moments before Lillia raised a hand into the air and took a step forward.

“We did,” Lillia called. “This was a mistake. Our mistake. I wanted to make the re-opening of the Devil’s Den more exciting for all of you, but we fucked up. We let a demon loose on the city — but the Menagerie always cleans up their messes.”

“You think that’s enough?” an adventurer in the crowd demanded. “You could have gotten hundreds of people killed!”

“We could have,” Lillia agreed. “And we will answer for that — but nobody died. So while we wait on judgement, I do believe that drinks and meals are going to be on the house for the next three hours. We are officially open!”

Any protests the crowd might have had were drowned out by the thunderous cheer that followed her words. Men and women stampeded through the street, funneling toward the Devil’s den.

Anna rushed over to Arwin, pushing past the crowd, and pressed her hand to his chest. Healing energy poured into his body and he let out a relieved groan, slumping back against the wall.

“Did it work?” Ariwn asked.

“Which part?”

“You know which part.”

If the real Twelve still lives, then this was nothing but a stopgap.

Anna looped an arm around Arwin’s back to keep him from sliding all the way to the ground. She glanced at the broken potion bottle on the ground. Rodrick and Olive were already dragging Twelve’s demonic body toward the Infernal Armory to get him out of public view.

“Arwin, do you remember what my previous job was?” Anna asked.

“It’s hard to forget.”

“Do you know how many times I failed?” Anna asked, her words barely audible over the thunderous crowd. “I don’t mean to sound arrogant. But not once has my work ever been insufficient. My touch means death.”

There wasn’t a hint of doubt in Anna’s voice. There was no joy either. Just sad recognition. She knew her abilities were needed, and she hated herself for it.

Before Arwin could say anything else, golden letters shimmered through the air before him.

Achievement: [Assassin Assassin] has been earned.

[Assassin Assassin] – Awarded for killing a target more than 1 Tier above you in front of a crowd without a single person recognizing what was happening right before their noses. What a show. Effects: You took Twelve’s Life. You might as well take his belongings too. May they serve you well. This achievement will be consumed upon request to bequeath everything that all 12 of Twelve’s bodies had on them to you.

Behind his helm and surrounded by a crowd that had no idea what they were cheering for, Arwin smiled.

We won.

I need a drink.