Natalya sat at the mouth of the central tunnel, far removed from the chaos unfolding in its depths.

  “They’re sure taking their time…” she muttered, tapping the floor rhythmically with her boot, irritation bleeding into every motion.

  She should have been alerted by now. A signal. A flare. Something.

  But there was nothing.

  Her brows knit together.

  She lifted her comms. “Executioner squad, do you copy?”

  Static.

  “Hey? Can you hear me?”

  Silence.

  Too deep for signal?

  Or—

  Her jaw tightened.

  She switched channels.

  “Bea, do you copy?”

  “Copy!” came the bright response.

  “I’ve had nothing on my end from the Executioners. What’s your status?”

  “Really!? They reached me ages ago. I’m already clearing this side. Not many left though… which is weird for a colony this size…”

  “Got it.”

  Natalya switched again.

  “Jia, do you copy?”

  “copy…” came the lazy reply.

  “They contacted you?”

  “Yeah. Been taking my time cleaning up. Barely any resistance.”

  Natalya’s expression hardened.

  “Thanks. I’m moving in prematurely. Something’s off. Call Bea when you’re done and meet me inside. Both of you.”

  “Aye, aye, captain.”

  Natalya rose immediately, stepping into the tunnel. She jogged at first, conserving energy, her breathing measured and controlled.

  The deeper she went, the thicker the scent of iron became.

  Then—

  “A-are you the I-Inquisitor!?”

  A battered Executioner stumbled into view, armor partially dissolved by acid. His chest heaved, dark crimson staining his uniform.

  Natalya assessed him in a single glance.

  “Are you with the squad that advanced down this tunnel?”

  He nodded shakily. “T-the Duchess is down there. She ambushed us. W-we didn’t stand a chance. One of ours— said he was trained by one of you— he made an opening. Got me out.”

  Her eyes narrowed.

  Trained by one of you? He must be talking about Jō. So he didn't run, he fought.

  She felt something shift in her chest. Worry? Approval? Relief?

  She didn’t dwell on it.

  “Get to safety. Brief the other Inquisitors. I’m going in.”

  She didn’t wait for acknowledgement, she ran.

  Her pace accelerated instantly, boots barely touching the ground. The tunnel blurred around her.

  The scent of blood intensified.

  Then she saw it.

  The Duchess.

  And beneath her—

  Jō, pinned against the wall, moments from death.

  Natalya didn’t hesitate.

  Her katana ignited mid-sprint, heat flaring along the blade as frost crystallised along its edge in violent contradiction.

  She leapt.

  Her first strike severed the Duchess’s spear-like leg clean through.

  Her second carved across her torso.

  And before the monster could even process the assault, Natalya twisted mid-air and drove her blade straight toward the heart.

  Heat and frost detonated together.

  The Duchess was blasted backward in a violent shockwave.

  Natalya landed gracefully, blade still extended toward the beast.

  “Did you miss me?” she smirked, glancing over her shoulder at Jō while keeping her weapon trained forward.

  Her stance didn’t waver, she knew the fight wasn’t over until she could confirm the arachnid vampire's death. But at least she had arrived.

  Unfortunately, the Duchess was not dead.

  Her tarantula legs snapped outward, digging into stone as she forced herself upright. The severed limb began knitting back together, chitin reforming with sickening speed, muscle and sinew reweaving as if time itself had reversed.

  “So… you must be an Inquisitor?” she said, her tone laced with genuine curiosity rather than fear.

  “I have never had the pleasure of meeting your kind,” she continued, studying Natalya carefully. “But even in a single exchange, I can see how incredibly advanced your skills are…”

  She gestured lightly to her chest, where the wound had already sealed.

  “Unfortunately for you, my heart is not currently in my chest. Otherwise, you would have certainly slain me with that strike.”

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  She was not boasting. She was simply stating a fact.

  If her heart had been there, death would have been instantaneous. The precision, the timing, the devastating fusion of flame and frost—few Lords would have survived such a blow.

  The Duchess understood something else as well. She had made a mistake, she had grown too fixated on the demi-vampire.

  In the presence of an Inquisitor, that lapse was nearly fatal.

  Even with her heightened senses, she had failed to detect Natalya’s approach. The attack had been as silent as it was swift, barely perceptible until the blade had already pierced her.

  To underestimate an Inquisitor, even for a Duchess, was nothing but pure folly.

  “So I must separate your head from your abomination of a body. Understood.”

  Natalya’s voice was cold, absolute.

  She drew her second katana.

  The air itself seemed to distort. Temperature rose and dropped in the same breath, heat and chill colliding in invisible currents that rippled through the tunnel.

  Her right blade ignited in flame, orange and gold licking along its edge.

  Her left whispered with frost, pale vapour curling from steel that shimmered with killing cold.

  She did not bother to offer further words, only lunging forward.

  Stone cracked beneath her first step as she closed the distance in an instant, blades crossing in a lethal arc aimed for the Duchess’s neck.

  Natalya’s first strike came low.

  Not for the head but for the legs.

  Her frost blade swept in a horizontal arc meant to cripple mobility, while her flaming katana followed half a breath later, angled upward toward the neck.

  The Duchess recoiled instantly.

  Two arachnid legs crossed defensively, chitin screeching against enchanted steel. Steam exploded where flame kissed frost, the clash hissing like a storm breaking.

  She scuttled sideways along the wall.

  Not backward.

  Sideways.

  Her body moved at an angle that defied human instinct, climbing vertically mid-exchange before twisting and launching downward like a spear.

  Natalya pivoted, blades crossing to catch the descending strike. The impact detonated against the cavern floor, cracking stone beneath her boots.

  Webbing shot out from the Duchess’s abdomen.

  Not at Natalya.

  At the ceiling.

  The strands latched onto loose debris and torn stone, yanking chunks of rock free before slinging them like artillery.

  Natalya spun, frost blade carving through one projectile while her flaming katana split another in mid-air. Molten fragments scattered behind her.

  She didn’t pause.

  She stepped through the debris cloud, closing distance again, this time attacking from above. A burst of heat propelled her upward, blade blazing as she descended in a diagonal cut meant to cleave shoulder to waist.

  The Duchess bent backward unnaturally, spine arching as the blade passed inches from her face. In the same motion, two spear-legs stabbed forward in tandem.

  Natalya deflected one with frost.

  Redirected the second with flame.

  The third leg came from the side.

  She ducked.

  The tip skimmed her hair.

  Webbing lashed toward her ankles.

  She leapt.

  The strands struck where she had stood a fraction of a second before, hissing against the stone.

  Their movements accelerated.

  Strike. Deflect. Pivot. Reposition.

  Natalya never attacked from the same angle twice. She rebounded off pillars, cut from blind spots, forced the Duchess to turn, to rotate, to defend her unseen centre.

  The Duchess answered with overwhelming mobility, her lower body spinning, anchoring, launching from walls and ceiling alike. Her webs became extensions of her limbs, pulling herself mid-air, altering trajectory, firing strands to bind, to distract, to destabilise.

  Close combat collapsed into a blur.

  Flame and frost carved arcs of light through the darkness.

  Chitin screeched.

  Stone shattered.

  Webs snapped.

  And Jō—

  Jō could only watch.

  His breathing slowed despite himself.

  This was completely different to what he had just witnessed moments ago.

  When Executioners fought, it was chaos. Numbers. Brute force. Covering angles and praying the person beside you didn’t fall first.

  When he fought, it was instinct and savagery.

  This—

  This was discipline.

  Every step Natalya took had purpose. Every swing layered pressure. She wasn’t just trying to land a hit. She was compressing space, herding the Duchess and forcing mistakes with every exchange.

  And the Duchess—

  She wasn’t overwhelmed, she was engaged. Two apex predators measuring one another, every exchange of blows a matter of life and death.

  Jō finally understood it now, if executioners were supposed to survive against vampires, Inquisitors were made to dominate them. The difference wasn’t just strength, it was everything.

  And watching them exchange blows, he realised something that unsettled him.

  Even at the peak of his berserker mode, moments ago…

  He wasn’t even close to this level.

  Two more…

  The Duchess faltered mid-exchange, not physically but instinctively.

  Two presences surged through the tunnels from opposite ends of the domain. One sharp and direct, the other measured and unhurried.

  She felt them.

  Her gaze flickered past Natalya for a fraction of a second. Her pupils dilated.

  That ‘man’ warned me. He said there would be three Inquisitors…

  Her composure cracked.

  Natalya saw it immediately. The shift in focus. The tightening of the Duchess’s posture. The subtle retreat in her footwork.

  She advanced without hesitation, frost sweeping low while flame carved high, forcing the Duchess to guard both levels at once.

  Steel clashed against chitin.

  Heat and cold detonated on impact.

  The Duchess withdrew sharply, skittering back along the wall.

  I cannot take three. Not in a confined space at least.

  Her abdomen flexed violently. Webbing erupted chaotically in every direction.

  Thick strands lashed onto pillars, ceiling beams, fractured stone. With a savage pull, she tore half the chamber apart. Rock collapsed between her and Natalya in a blinding cloud of debris.

  Natalya cut through it instantly, blades flashing, vaporising webbing, cleaving falling stone in mid-air to protect both herself and Jō.

  But the Duchess did not aim to injure, her aim was to create space.

  I must reposition. Regain control!

  Her legs dug into the ground, then she launched upward.

  A spear-limb punched through the ceiling, cracking ancient stone. Acid followed, widening the breach as she forced her upper body through the opening.

  Natalya leapt after her, slashing upward, barely grazing one retreating limb.

  The Duchess twisted violently, ripping herself free and disappearing through the fractured ceiling.

  Stone rained down.

  Dust filled the chamber.

  Silence followed.

  Natalya stood still, blades lowered only slightly, eyes fixed on the jagged hole above.

  She immediately understood, the Duchess had not retreated out of fear alone. She had retreated because she recognised the inevitable.

  Three Inquisitors in one enclosed domain was not a battle. It was an execution.

  “I’m going up. Alert the others.”

  Natalya didn’t wait for acknowledgment, she sheathed neither blade.

  With a powerful step, she launched upward, boots striking the wall before propelling herself toward the shattered ceiling. Flame flared briefly along her right blade, melting loose stone to create footing as frost sealed cracks beneath her left, stabilising her ascent.

  In a heartbeat, she disappeared through the breach.

  She would not give the Duchess time to recover. Not time to reposition and certainly not time to hunt.

  She knew that with vampires of this calibre, hesitation was death. A single wasted second meant another life torn apart.

  And Natalya did not intend to waste even one.