Berthold's group had brought a significant portion of their numbers specifically to avoid complications. And yet, within seconds, they had already lost a man, and all they could do was stand there, trying to process exactly what had just happened.
'What...'
Berthold was already moving toward the attacker that had appeared from nowhere, when his senses caught something else. More presences. Also from nowhere.
"Watch out, there are others," said the second Advanced Stage E-rank, the one who had tried to ambush Evan at the very start of all this, but the warning came too late.
A moment later, another of the weaker members of the group found himself on the ground, using the last fragments of his strength to understand what had hit him.
Three strikes. One to the throat, one to the chest, one to the legs. Appeared from nothing, too fast to be fully avoided. Enough, in the end, to finish him.
