"What are you doing?" Xian snapped, his fist still planted on top of Isolde's head. "Stop causing trouble for our guild. You've already done enough!"
Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed Isolde by the back of the collar and dragged her away like an overgrown delinquent cat. Isolde, for her part, only twisted around to make an exaggerated face at him, as if she were the one being wronged here.
Once Xian removed the immediate threat of friendly fire from the situation, the group of ten youths turned their attention back to Ren.
Their expressions darkened.
Apparently, being shot through the torso by Isolde had done nothing to improve their decision-making.
One of them lunged first, and the others followed right behind him.
They didn't get far.
A blade flashed.
The movement was so quick it barely registered—just a silver arc cutting through the twilight air before the first attacker stumbled backward with a strangled cry, his weapon knocked aside by a precise strike.
