They had barely a second to react before the mercenary moved.

The table beneath his boots splintered under the surge of his mana, the wood shattering in a crack as a wave of force burst outward. The air itself seemed to vibrate, raw mana radiating from the man like lightning about to strike. His body was bleeding from multiple wounds, arrows still jutting from his elbow, knee, and one foot, but it didn't slow him. If anything, his rage seemed to make his mana burn hotter.

Lenko felt it hit like a gust of pressure, stealing the air from his lungs. He barely raised his arm to shield his face before the mercenary leapt, boots crashing down, leaving behind a crater where he'd stood.

"Olga!" Lenko shouted, though he didn't even know what he wanted her to do.

She already had her bow raised, fingers releasing in rapid rhythm, the string snapping again and again. Arrows flew like silver streaks in the flickering light, each one gleaming with a faint mana pulse.

But the man was fast, too fast.

He twisted midair, and with a savage snarl, threw his lance. The weapon cut through the air like a thunderbolt, the metal humming as runes along its shaft flared to life.

Lenko's stomach dropped. It wasn't aimed at Olga or at him.

It was aimed straight for the princess.

The sixth princess still knelt at the far side, her palm pressed to the carpet and the floor beneath it, mana sigils burning faintly under her touch, holding the cracked foundation together. The light of her magic reflected in her ruby eyes, calm but sharp as she glanced up.

For the briefest instant, her gaze locked on the spinning lance coming toward her.

Then she let go.

The runes under her hands flickered out, and the floor, already cracked, finally gave in.

With a deafening groan, the entire section of the hall collapsed. The air filled with dust and splinters. The carpet, still glowing faintly from the lingering magic, tore apart as the floor tilted downward toward the crater below.

Lenko's boots slid out from under him as he felt gravity take hold. "Princess!" he yelled, reaching for the edge, but the world tilted again.

He saw her, a flash of gold and some green, sliding down the slanted floor, dress twisting around her legs as she fought to keep her balance. The lance struck the exact spot where she had knelt seconds earlier, sinking deep into the floor and sending up shards like rain.

The mercenary landed hard, stumbling as one of Olga's arrows tore across his neck in a shallow graze. Blood sprayed across his collar, but he only gritted his teeth, eyes burning lightning blue.

Another arrow struck his thigh, making him falter, but when the next came for his head, he caught it midair. With a sickening snap, he broke the shaft in half and let the pieces fall.

Lenko felt his stomach twist as the man regained his footing, balancing easily on the tilting floor. The runes crawling along his lance glowed even brighter, sizzling with mana where it struck.

Olga was perched on the broken rail above, her boots barely keeping grip as she steadied her bow. The air around her shimmered from the heat of her magic, sweat sliding down her temple, but her gaze was unyielding.

"Come on then, you bastard," she hissed under her breath, nocking another arrow. "Let's see how close you can get."

Her bowstring drew taut again, one more shot in the storm of mayhem, the only thing standing between the mercenary and the princess. The chaos seemed endless, wood groaning, debris tumbling, the entire hall on the verge of giving way.

Then, just as the floor tilted farther, threatening to drag everything into the gaping crater below, the princess moved.

She placed her foot down, lightly, but with purpose, and the air shifted. A ripple of mana pulsed out from her sole, spreading in a ring across the fractured floor. The deep, grinding crunch of wood and stone stilled. Dust hung suspended in the air, the collapsing noise fading into a trembling silence.

Everything froze, except for the faint, ominous creak of what was left of the hall.

Lenko coughed hard, chest heaving from the dust cloud. His ears rang. He blinked, trying to orient himself, and realized he was lying half off the remaining floor, one foot dangling over open air.

Below him, the crater yawned wide, swallowing seats and shattered furniture as they tumbled into the darkness below.

He scrambled backward, palms scraping against splintered boards. When he looked up, his stomach twisted at the sight.

The sixth princess stood on the slanted floor. Her balance was perfect, her stance calm. Light from the glowing mana threads beneath her feet wrapped her in faint gold, a saint in the midst of ruin.

But her eyes were sharp, locked above.

Lenko followed her gaze and saw the mercenary high on the ledge, his bloodied hand outstretched as runes on his gloves flared. The lance he'd thrown before shuddered, then began to fly back toward him, straight through Olga.

"Olga---!" Lenko's warning caught in his throat.

His sister had already moved.

Her body twisted midair as she loosed another arrow, a blur of motion against the dust-filled light. The lance tore toward her, slicing through the air close enough that he could hear the hum of its mana edge. It passed within a hair's breadth of her neck, the force of it whipping her braid aside.

She didn't even flinch.

Her eyes were not on the weapon coming for her, but on the mercenary.

Lenko's breath caught.

The arrow she had released didn't fly straight, it arced up, weightless, and then dropped like a falling star. Its shaft gleamed faintly before slamming down just as the returning lance almost graze at Olga's neck.

The two projectiles met in midair.

A sharp, metallic clang rang out, followed by a screech of grinding mana. Sparks burst where the arrowhead struck the lance's tip, knocking the weapon's trajectory awry. The lance spun sideways, its runes flaring orange as it scraped against the floor instead of finding its target, leaving a scorched trail of molten wood before embedding itself in the tilted beam beside the mercenary.

Lenko exhaled, half in relief, half in disbelief.

Above, Olga landed hard on a fallen beam, rolling to her knees before drawing another arrow. Her voice carried down, edged with a sharp grin even through the exhaustion.

"Still think you can call that thing yours?" she taunted, her tone biting. "Guess even your weapon knows who's better with aim."

The man only smirked, an expression that carried neither pain nor fear, but cruel amusement. His voice dripped with mockery as he straightened his stance, blood dripping down his own neck. He yanked the lance free, its runes flickering in anger.

"You seem to have a different understanding of what's happening here…"

The words rolled out low and deliberate, his tone almost entertained, as if he alone knew a secret they hadn't yet realized.

Lenko frowned, confused, until the ground below screamed.

A chorus of guttural shrieks rose from the crater beneath them, echoing through the hollow ruins of the hall. His blood ran cold. He turned toward the sound just as claws scraped against wood and steel, monstrous, desperate, and many.

Shapes began to emerge from below.

The beasts were climbing. Their grotesque limbs hooked onto shattered furniture and broken beams, dragging themselves upward through the wreckage. Some used the fallen tables as ladders, others clawed at the tilting floor that the princess still held steady with her mana.

Lenko's breath caught in his throat. There were too many, more than he could count, and they were fast.

The floor trembled again, groaning beneath their combined weight. The princess's runes flared brighter in response, intricate and organic, spiraling lines that looked like vines weaving into blooming flowers. The sigils spread across her boots and the carpet beneath her, glowing in soft gold hues.

Lenko could not see any strain on her face, even any slight tremble in her hand, or thin sheen of sweat along her brow unlike him, the princess' expression stayed composed. The only movement was the subtle press of her heel as she anchored the spell deeper into the ground.

Then...

"Lenko!" Olga's voice tore through the noise, sharp and panicked.

He snapped his head up, barely catching sight of her on the ledge. Her bowstring was drawn to her cheek, her eyes fixed not on the mercenary anymore, but on him.

Before he could even think, she released.

The arrow sliced through the air with a sharp whoosh, so close that he felt the wind of it graze his cheek. A second later, a shriek split the air just beside him.

Lenko looked down, his eyes widening in horror.

A beast, clawed, had managed to crawl up through the debris right at his side. Its arm, sinewy and slick with blood, had been reaching for his leg. Olga's arrow now jutted from its throat, dark fluid spilling down as it crumpled back into the pit.

Lenko staggered back, his pulse hammering. He hadn't even seen it coming. He'd been too focused on the others, the he forgot he's the one that were almost at the edge.

"Shit…" he muttered under his breath, voice shaking. His gaze darted toward the princess, whose runes flared again as another wave of shrieks echoed below.

The beasts were relentless. And if her magic faltered, even for a moment, the floor, the hall, all of them would come crashing down into that pit.

And Lenko could already see the smirk still on the enemy's face above, as if every second of their panic was exactly what he had been waiting for.

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