Page 40 of Decadence

Ikriss plucked a dagger from a sheath inside his belt and hurled it in the opposite direction as a small throwing knife came at his chest. He spun around, evading the blade as he threw another knife, then another, then he emptied the rest of his plasma charge into the blurring air, which had now morphed into a figure.

Only one type of monster could disappear into thin air and move fast enough to dodge several plasma blasts at once.

A Silent One.

A really fucking dangerous Silent One. There were very, very few who were skilled enough to use the invisibility technique.

Shit.

One wrong move and he would be dead.

They would take her from him.

No.

They would not.

He activated his comm. “Backup,” he hissed. “Now!”

Ikriss reached for a blade. His fingers found nothing but empty sheaths. His plasma gun was out of charge. Without thinking, he grabbed the closest heavy implement—a heavy round metal pan-thing with a handle.

Now the Silent One had shed his cloak of invisibility. His body was covered in a sleek skinsuit the color of moonlight, his face concealed behind a featureless white mask.

The death-mask.

The Silent One drew a long blade and rushed toward Ikriss.

He’s fast.

But so am I.

Ikriss raised the metal pan as the Silent One struck. The tip of the blade sank into the thick metal and came out the other side. Ikriss twisted hard, deflecting the assassin’s blade.

His vicious kick, narrowly missed the assassin’s shin.

The assassin withdrew, feinting to the left, but Ikriss wasn’t fooled. He swung the pan to the right, connecting with the Silent One’s arm as the assassin swiftly reversed direction, trying to catch him off-guard.

Step, slash, dodge, block, strike. They fell into a brutal rhythm; Ikriss with his heavy pan, the Silent One with his cursed blade. Each move was a precise strike and a near-miss, taking them closer and closer to the precipice just before death.

The assassin’s blade had teeth; it was Callidum, after all, and each time it connected with the pan, it sliced through the thick metal, leaving precise cuts.

Ikriss was at a distinct disadvantage. The pan slowed the blade’s momentum only a fraction; barely enough to allow him to dodge.

At this rate, there soon would be no pan left, but Ikriss was too absorbed in this violent dance to worry about any of that.

He’d never fought a Silent One like this before.

This opponent was probably one of the most dangerous he’d ever engaged in battle.

But all those sessions he’d spent in brutal training against the First Division warriors had prepared him well. The fact that Sienna was in the room with them, just a hand’s breath from danger, gave him immense strength and speed.

He would protect her, even if he had to die in the process.

Clang. His pan came up hard against the Silent One’s arm, and the assassin’s would-be blow carried so much force that the effect was jarring. He raised his weapon for another strike, only to feel intense pain lancing through the left side of his chest.

Forcing himself to ignore the pain, Ikriss growled as he threw the shredded metal pan at the cursed assassin’s face in desperation, following up with a savage kick to the ribs.

For the first time, the assassin staggered back. Ikriss picked up a container of some unknown powder and threw it at the Silent One’s face. A cloud of pungent yellow erupted in front of his very eyes, causing them both to cough.

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