I met with a squat man with a smashed-looking nose.
He charged at me with his axe raised high but I sidestepped his clumsy attack with my scimitars flashing out to sever his hamstrings.
Surprisingly, he moved forward and to the side just enough to avoid that strike and had forced me to bend backward to avoid a slash that might have cut my head in two but instead cut my cheek and scraped a bit of skin off the side of my face.
Used the momentum of my back bend to roll backwards into a forward lunge.
He tried jumping backwards and raised his axe, but I was faster.
He roared in pain and collapsed sideways and onto the ground like a felled tree.
My scimitar had split him in two at the waist.
"You can't attack me with half a body so…" I finished him with a swift and final stroke.
His blood splattered across my kimono and that was a good addition to the rest.
The training hall was filled with corpses so I returned to the bar area to investigate
I hadn't made enough noise to attract those upstairs.
The crimson-covered walls of the bar area and training hall were kind of sickening but I had killed enough after all this time to not actually care above the slight disgust that assured me I was still human.
I entered one of the offices after being drawn by the glint of metal on a wall-mounted board.
It was an 'assassination board' which was apparently a list of targets with prices attached to their heads.
I scanned the names as my frown deepened with each passing entry.
I pulled out the dossiers they had on the targets, and wow!
They didn't even have the decency to target bad people. They exclusively targeted good ones with charitable ventures that were beneficial.
I pulled out a few documents from a nearby desk and sifted my fingers through the papers with ease.
This was one of many black-action guilds, I realized.
I hadn't actually seen one in person yet, but I had heard them be talked about.
In rundown bars and restaurants a few had talked about them in hushed whispers.
I was even killed a couple of times by their agents as well as the other way around.
Their operations are a hidden network that keeps the black market thriving.
I tucked the documents into my kimono.
This was some valuable intel for the next loop.
I went upstairs.
The air grew thick with a strange and silent tension.
I forced the silence to be broken by smashing my foot against a door that was clearly labeled with who it belonged to.
"Branch Boss" was etched onto a brass plaque that went flying.
I kicked it open as the wood splintered and cracked under the force of my boot.
"Hello!" I announced, my voice dripping with sarcasm and irreverent cheer. "Here's the big little bitch! That means you! I think your obtuse nature matches your face's shape perfectly. Let's make it a bit sharper, shall we?!"
The Branch Boss, who resembled a mountain made of muscle with a thick neck and a jaw that was a bit too chiseled, in the sense that a sculptor made a massive mistake, kept trying to fix it, and then gave up.
He stared at me with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. This was clearly an expression that questioned life itself.
A massive, double-edged sword leaned against the wall beside him, its size a testament to the man's strength. He stood slowly as his gaze fixed on me.
"My face... obtuse? Big... little bitch?" he rumbled as his face melted into an incredulous stare. His voice was deep but gave the feeling of a dumb brute.
The baritone that vibrated through the room with absolute bafflement was confused and the face that it came from was remarkably ugly.
His stunned state lasted long enough for me to continue my verbal assault.
"Yes," I said, my voice hinting at mock concern. "Were my words unclear? Do you need me to buy you an ear enchant? Would you rather me regale you with the fact that your face resembles an icosahedron that shat itself while on ALL of the drugs? What if I told you that if you combined all the little old ladies in the capital city waaaay over in the other direction they would match you perfectly for best girl over the age of triangle award?! Maybe if we got a really good artist they could paint a portrait of your face using only triangles! I'm sure that would be exciting! Or maybe we could just call you 'grandpa-smashed-pointy-face' from now on! What do you think? Is that enough of a good description? Would you like some more?!" I grabbed a hand mirror that I had in my pocket just for occasions where I needed to insult people's appearances. "Here! I'll break this just for you and put a piece of shattered pumpkin on it! Then you'll see the reflection of your long lost father who went out for mil-"
His bafflement lasted a moment longer before he grabbed his blade and moved with unnatural speed.
He roared as I barely saw him move before the massive slab of metal filled my vision. Then-