Klara sidestepped as a knife swept through the air where her head had been. She darted forwards, sword up, closing the distance between her and the white warrior who threw the throwing knife.

  A shadow of green blasted past her at impossible speed and slammed into the white warrior, knocking him from his feet.

  Klara staggered back as Yeger buried the warrior in a flurry of blows. Taking a chance, Klara snatched her own Trinity extracts from her belt and knocked them back. They needed all the help they could get right now.

  She doubled over as the extracts tore her body apart and rebuilt it, leaving her vulnerable for several agonising seconds. Finally, the pain faded and Klara straightened, taking stock. Her gut clenched as she recognised two wardens laying face up in pools of blood.

  Irmina and Alarick.

  Hate seethed through her. This was no training exercise, these attackers were murderers.

  “Klara!” a voice yelled from behind her.

  She spun with lightning speed to see Mikhail barreling towards her, two white warriors in pursuit.

  Klara hefted her sword and ran.

  She closed the distance in half a second. The speed extract pulsed in her veins as she flew by Mikhail towards the white warriors. They saw her and altered course, aiming for her.

  One swung his staff at her and the world instantly slowed as the reflex extract took control. Aided by her speed extract, Klara dropped beneath the blow.

  As she cleared the threat the world sped up, and the staff whistled harmlessly overhead. With all her boosted strength, she drove a fist towards the man’s stomach.

  He blurred and appeared a foot to the left.

  Klara cursed. He was on Trinity too. Which meant they all were…

  From out of sight, a sword bit into Klara’s arm, cutting skin but sliding uselessly over her hardened muscles. She growled, launching back and putting distance between the two men.

  Sergei’s voice echoed in her head. “Attack their blind spots. You cannot avoid what you cannot see.”

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  Easy enough with one opponent, but two?

  “Need help?” Mikhail asked, appearing by her side.

  “Go. You’ll get hurt,” Klara said, not taking her eyes off the white warriors.

  “Perhaps, but this is my fight.”

  With that, he threw himself at the staff-wielding warrior.

  In the dim light of the moon, Klara saw both warriors turn to Mikhail. A smile ghosted her face. They’d pay for that mistake.

  She leapt.

  As Klara sailed through the air, wind buffeting her, she brought her sword around out of the white warrior’s line of sight. If he was on speed extract, he was doubtless on strength, too. That meant her blow wouldn’t be able to pierce his muscle.

  But strength extract had a weakness: it didn’t strengthen the space between muscles. And fortunately for Klara, strips of muscle covered the chest.

  In slow motion, the warrior looked back to her. Too late.

  Her sword sank into his side, slipping between two muscles. The white warrior let out a choked gurgle and Klara followed through with an uppercut, snapping his head back. He slumped to the ground, sword falling from his limp hand.

  Klara spun, seeking out the second warrior. He stood in the trench a few yards away, his staff raised high above Mikhail, who lay dazed at his feet.

  The staff descended.

  Klara sprinted. If that staff hit Mikhail, it would kill him instantly. Panic welled within. She wouldn’t make it!

  Mikhail got his arm up as the staff was less than a foot away. Not that it’d do anything to stop a strength extract boosted fighter.

  Thud!

  The white warrior’s staff smashed into Mikhail’s forearm.

  And bounced off.

  Klara gawked as she continued to charge. Mikhail had taken strength extract. And he wasn’t raging. He was in control.

  Klara collided with the white warrior, carrying them both a few yards before crashing into the far side of the trench.

  With a roar, Klara laid into him. Hate coursed through her veins. This man, and those with him, had killed Alarick and Irmina. They’d stolen the lives of two Sentinels who’d sworn to defend Serovnya.

  Klara continued to throw punch after punch. The murderer sagged, collapsing to the ground. She followed, relentless. Tears stung her eyes. Two from her family were dead.

  She screamed. A primal, gut-clenching howl of pure agony that tore from her throat.

  Klara continued to scream, barely noticing as someone dragged her off the white warrior. A voice yelled in her ear, but the wind ate the words.

  A choking sob strangled the scream. She had accepted responsibility for this mission, and she’d let them down. She should’ve woken everyone up and had them all take Trinity. No lives would’ve been lost if she had.

  “It’s over, Klara,” Mikhail said, his voice finally breaking through. “It’s over. We won.”

  Klara shook her head. They hadn’t won.