Disturbance in Paradise

Another month had passed inside the Glass Forest.

Ken's transformation was undeniable. The 30-kilo backpack that initially seemed to be killing him now felt like a natural extension of his body. His movements were no longer clumsy; he slipped between the crystal trees with the grace of a predator that has accepted its place in the food chain. He no longer went hungry. He had learned to read the ripples in the air and the tinkling of leaves to hunt the invisible Prism Deer.

The sunset bathed the valley in a brilliant blood-red. Ken arrived at the usual spot. He'd been lucky: he had two crystal rabbits hanging from his belt. "We'll eat well today, Instructor," he murmured to himself.

He began preparing the campfire with efficiency, a testament to his progress from months before. He gathered dry branches, stacked the stones, and ignited the bluish flame in seconds. Watching the fire grow, that old, goofy smile he used to have appeared on his face, but something was different. His eyes no longer held laughter. They were serious, watchful, scanning the perimeter even in the safety of camp.

The sound of a snapping branch came from behind him. Ken didn't startle. He assumed it was Natasha returning from her meditation. "You're late, Instructor. I almost started without you," Ken joked, not turning around, busy skinning one of the rabbits.

But Natasha didn't respond. The only sound that broke the valley's silence wasn't a voice, but a sharp, violent boom that echoed for kilometers.

BANG!

The sound of a high-caliber gunshot. Ken froze, knife in hand, staring in the direction of the waterfall.

Several kilometers away, at the foot of the waterfall.

Natasha sat in a lotus position on a rock jutting from the churning water. The thunder of the falls drowned out the outside world, but in her mind, there was silence. She was thinking about the conversation from the night before. Ken had spoken of his grandfather Saito and his missing older brother. Natasha had felt a familiar pang of pain. We're the same, she thought. Two broken orphans chasing a ghost.

For a moment, Natasha let her guard down, allowing herself to feel empathy.

However, the air changed. It wasn't a sound, it was a disturbance in the wind pressure. Natasha's instincts screamed before her brain could. She tilted her head to the left by a millimeter.

Two black metal shuriken whizzed past where her neck had been, severing two strands of her purple hair before embedding themselves in the rock. Natasha opened her eyes. Her pupils contracted. She leapt backwards, landing softly on the water's surface. She didn't sink. Her control of Kijin energy was so perfect the dense water supported her like solid ground.

She looked toward the tree line. "Show yourselves," she ordered, her voice icy.

Figures emerged from the shadows of the crystals. There were ten of them. They wore gray robes with hoods that completely hid their faces. They made no sound, not even breathing. They looked like ghosts.

Without warning, a figure appeared behind her, rising from the waterfall's spray with a dagger aimed at her vitals.

Natasha didn't even turn. She threw an elbow backward with precision, impacting the attacker's throat. A wet crunch sounded. The hooded figure fell into the water, gurgling.

Seeing their companion fall, the other nine launched a simultaneous attack. It was a choreography of death. Natasha didn't draw her weapon. She didn't need it. One attacker launched a high kick; Natasha slid beneath it, swept his supporting leg, and stomped on his chest with lethal force before he hit the water. Two others tried to flank her with short swords. Natasha spun like a whirlwind, deflecting the blades and countering with open-palm strikes to their chins, shattering their jaws.

Natasha's technique was brutal; she seemed to dance on the water, and every time she touched an enemy, something broke. An arm, a rib, a neck. In less than thirty seconds, eight bodies floated in the blue current.

However, Natasha stopped dead. Her skin crawled. A sniper.

She had sensed the hidden murderous intent among the trees. The shot rang out.

POW!

The bullet came straight for her skull. It was too fast to dodge completely from an unstable stance. Natasha twisted her neck at the last second. She felt the searing heat of the lead grazing her cheek, opening a red line on her perfect skin.

"Tsk."

Natasha didn't seek cover. Instead, she crouched and her fingers closed around a smooth, heavy river stone. She located the glint of the telescopic sight in the underbrush, three hundred meters away and fifty meters up. She channeled her Kijin Essence into her arm. Her muscles tensed like steel cables.

"Found you."

She hurled the stone. It wasn't a human throw. It was a cannon shot. The stone seemed to break the sound barrier as it left her hand, creating a cone of vapor.

The stone flew straight as an arrow, tore through the branches, shattered the telescopic sight, punched through the rifle, and continued on its path to impact the sniper's head. The sniper's body fell from the tree branch like a sack of potatoes, landing with a dull thud on the far shore.

Silence.

Only the roar of the waterfall and Natasha's blood dripping into the blue water, staining it violet.

Natasha ran her finger over the wound on her cheek and looked at her own blood. Her eyes burned with fury. She walked on water to the shore where one of the attackers still lay, breathing with difficulty. "Who sent you?" she asked, grabbing him by the robe and lifting him up.

The man didn't respond. He only made guttural noises. Natasha frowned and tried to tear off his black cloth mask. She stopped, horrified. The cloth wasn't tied on. It was fused to the skin. The mask was his face. Flesh had grown over the edges of the fabric. They weren't mercenaries... They were something else.

Natasha dropped the body in disgust and searched the robe's pockets for any identification. Her fingers found a cold metal object. She pulled it into the light.

It was a round insignia, made of a metal that didn't seem to match the current technology of the Fortresses. It had a strange engraving, a geometric design Natasha had never seen in the Calamity archives. But what chilled her wasn't the design, but the implication. It wasn't organic. It was manufactured.

"This is human..." she whispered, feeling a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold water.

If there were humans sending death squads with unknown technology to attack them in a secret zone... then the enemy wasn't just outside the walls. Natasha clenched the insignia in her fist. "Ken..."

If they attacked her, an S-Class, with a suicide squad... what would they have sent for the boy? Natasha looked in the direction of the camp where she had left her student. "Damn it!"

She shot off, breaking the sound barrier, leaving a trail of water and crystal in her wake.