Emilia's POV
The air is thick, each breath tasting like ash and iron. I can hear the distant echoes of gunshots, but they're becoming fainter. Vincent and Enzo are gone, and I'm alone with the predators circling in. The shadowy tunnel spreads out before me, filled with trash and shattered bodies. This is my stance, my attempt to buy them time.
The footsteps slow, the clang of guns falling silent. They're hunting now, tasting the excitement of cornering prey. I push my back against the wall, steadying my breathing. If they want a fight, they'll get one.
A shadow moves, barely visible. I hold my breath, calculating the seconds. Three… two… one. I move out, my sword slashing through the air. The attacker hardly has time to detect the movement before they fall. Another leaps at me, and I dodge, my punch striking with their jaw. Pain surges up my arm, but I don't stop. I can't.
