Esme charged forward, her dagger roaring to life in her hands. She was no fool; she knew better than to take them all on at once. Swiftly dodging a vicious strike, she focused on one opponent at a time. The moment an opening presented itself, she tackled one of them to the ground, and the fight truly began.
Half an hour later, the battlefield was drenched in blood.
Esme, barely standing, slumped against the wall, her breaths ragged. The bodies of six women lay before her, unmoving and bloodied. Her own condition was dire—crimson dripped from a gash on her forehead, and pain radiated from every inch of her battered body.
Beom had landed beside her, but something was wrong.
Her eyes—
They had not returned to normal.
Esme stared, struggling to grasp the unsettling sight before her. She didn't know what to feel.
