Watching the female warrior closing in, Rogue forced himself to stay calm. Flight was impossible, and a duel between a low-level warrior and a low-level mage could only end one way. Though Rogue couldn't gauge Keevey's exact strength, he knew she was at least seventh or eighth rank. Even if she were merely third rank, her fully armored state would effortlessly overwhelm him, armed with only a magic ring. His only hope lay in luring her into his cottage, where his traps might give him a fighting chance.
With his plan set, Rogue scanned the surroundings, preparing to slip away nimbly. Behind him sprawled a wasteland of ruins where paupers had erected low, dilapidated shacks. Ahead lay a narrow alley leading to his cottage after five hundred meters. Unfortunately, Keevey blocked his direct path.
Rogue retreated to the alley entrance and planted his feet, beginning to chant. Keevey smirked coldly, dragging her Greatsword behind her as she waited for him to finish the incantation. A crimson flash erupted between Rogue's hands, and two magic missiles shot toward the warrior, striking her chest plate squarely. *Ping! Crash!* Blue light flared across her armor and vanished—Keevey remained unharmed. Rogue bellowed the incantation for Finger of Flame; a jet of fire lanced forth, only to be halted by the same azure shield. Clearly, her armor was magically reinforced. Even subpar, it posed no challenge to Rogue's spells.
Cold sweat trickled down Rogue's temples, his jowls quivering. As he began a third spell, Keevey vanished. In the next instant, she stood before him, their noses nearly touching. A crushing force slammed into his gut. Despite his sturdy physique, he doubled over, violently retching up his entire day's meals. Keevey followed with a brutal blow from her sword pommel to his back, sending him sprawling. She kicked him repeatedly until blood streamed from his nose and mouth. Hoisting him onto his back with her foot, she snarled viciously, "Weren't you so bold? Eager to have me? Come on! Show me what you've got—can you even satisfy me?" With that, her silver-trimmed leather boot ground mercilessly into his groin.
Rogue's face turned a purplish hue; he couldn't even scream. Clutching her boot with both hands, he futilely tried to push it away. Keevey smiled cruelly, twisting her heel deeper before finally releasing him. Gasping, Rogue clutched his injury and rolled on the ground, punctuating his agony with weak whimpers. Keevey stared down in disgust at the bloodied, corpulent man, spitting, "What? This much and you're finished? Are you even a man? I've barely begun! Today, you'll endure every skill I possess."
Setting her Greatsword aside, Keevey noticed Rogue's gaze fixed behind her into the alley's depths—a flicker of hope in his eyes. *Amateur trick,* she scoffed inwardly. Still, she turned deliberately, feigning gullibility to catch him mid-escape or attack. *These arrogant nobles never invent anything new.*
A soft *hiss* sounded behind her. Keevey instantly sensed danger. A searing pain exploded in her buttock—a short crossbow bolt buried to the hilt in her pale skin. Her short skirt armor left her vulnerable from below, and Rogue's low-angle shot, combined with her height, had struck a devastatingly intimate spot.
Humiliation and fury surged through Keevey. She seized her Greatsword, intent on cleaving the treacherous waste in two. But as she whirled, agony lanced through the wound—her vision swam with stars. Numbness replaced the pain; the bolt was clearly poisoned. Reaching back, she found only blood; the tiny missile was entirely embedded. Taking a deep breath, she roared, a faint white aura flaring briefly around her before fading. *Battle aura!* Rogue realized with dread. Could he survive long enough for the toxins to take effect?
Though the battle aura temporarily suppressed the poison, Keevey couldn't draw the bolt without freeing her hands—and certainly not with the despicable waste staring at her. She resolved to end this swiftly. Meanwhile, Rogue staggered upright and resumed chanting. A thin jet of flame shot toward her. Keevey charged without dodging. As the fire grazed her, Rogue's eyes flashed; an invisible force suddenly yanked her breastplate and undergarments upward. Flame licked her exposed skin.
The sudden, searing pain in such a sensitive spot was unbearable even for a warrior of Keevey's caliber. She screamed, doubling over in agony. Slightly recovered, she hastily pulled her armor down to cover herself—this humiliation shattered her composure. At that moment, Rogue lunged, raining punches and kicks with surprising agility and force, utterly unlike an injured mage. Keevey, stunned, parried the storm of blows. Just as she prepared to counterattack, Rogue dashed past her and fled.
Keevey nearly passed out from rage. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she gave chase.
Rogue zigzagged frantically until he reached a small cottage, pulled the door open, and vanished inside. "Good! Now I know your rat hole—I'll see how you escape this time!" Keevey stormed forward, kicking the door down. Instantly, dizziness washed over her, and her wounds flared anew with pain. She inhaled deeply; the cool night air cleared her head slightly. From the second floor came the sound of frantic scrambling and overturned furniture. Keevey's fury reignited. She charged up the stairs.
Leaping upward, her right foot touched a stair tread—*CRACK!* The board collapsed. Keevey didn't falter; she kicked midair, propelling herself higher. Wary of more traps, she tapped her Greatsword against the stairs to test their soundness. As she rose, two crossbow bolts hissed through the air. She deflected them with her blade, severing a nearly invisible wire. Lightning flashed. A nearby wall trap activated, jolting her mid-leap. Numb and falling, she hit the ground hard. Fortunately, the trap's power was weak, and her magically reinforced armor minimized the damage. After moments of disorientation, she recovered.
Hearing triumphant yet grating laughter from above, Keevey gritted her teeth and charged upward again. Barely rounding the landing, a deafening *BOOM* struck her. Stars exploded before her eyes as she flew backward, crashing heavily to the floor—a transparent energy barrier had been her undoing. The impact shattered the barrier's function, but Keevey lay stunned, unable to rise immediately.
Bracing herself with her Greatsword, she limped down the stairs. *This cursed cottage could hold anything. Best abandon this swine for now—tomorrow, I'll burn this pigsty to the ground.* Keevey seethed inwardly.
A swirl of black mist coalesced, and the skeleton "Breezemoon" blocked her path.
Rogue fared no better. Depleted of mana and badly injured, summoning Breezemoon had been his last act. Collapsed on the second floor, he watched the battle below. It was relatively safe here; if Keevey advanced, three more traps awaited her. Breezemoon seemed different—now wielding a rusted blade, its ribs intact.
Keevey rallied. Her Greatsword slashed diagonally at Breezemoon's neck. The skeleton raised its blade to block. Using the parry's momentum, Keevey deftly arced her sword for a second strike at the skull. Breezemoon couldn't defend in time, raising its left arm instead. *CRUNCH!* The heavy blade sheared through bone. Breezemoon swayed and collapsed, motionless.
Keevey snorted coldly. *So this waste dabbles in necromancy. Pitiable—only one skeleton summoned.* She stepped over the fallen bones toward the exit.
A rush of air from behind warned her. Keevey ducked instinctively, thrusting her Greatsword backward. *CLANG!* The rusted blade struck metal with bone-jarring force. Before she could react, a vicious kick slammed into her injured arm. Keevey whirled—Breezemoon stood there. Her breath caught. *A skeleton plays dead?*
For the first time, Keevey found the cottage eerily terrifying.
Rogue gaped in disbelief.
Another brutal clash ensued. Their mismatched strength soon turned the tide against Breezemoon. As Keevey raised her Greatsword for the final blow, a fresh wave of black mist enveloped the skeleton—Rogue, seeing the situation turn sour, had recalled it.
*THUD!* Keevey swayed, her vision blurring. As consciousness faded, she glimpsed the corpulent mage standing over her, gripping an iron rod with a predatory grin.