Getting a little angry and other points of view (part 1)

Crunch.

Ugh, feeling bones shatter under my bare hands is deeply unpleasant. My ears twitch at the wet snap. At a guess, I just turned at least half the bones in this guy's wrist to dust.

"Are you okay—wait, why am I asking if you're okay!?" I yell, staring down at him as he kneels on the cobblestones, screaming at the top of his lungs. "You literally just tried to stab me!"

Okay, sure, wrists have a bunch of tiny, fragile bones, but to think I could just crush them like dry twigs? I've definitely gotten stronger. Or have I? I don't really feel any different... Oh, wait. Looking closely, tiny black lines pulse just beneath the skin of my hand. The moment I focus on them, they vanish.

Can my darkness magic temporarily buff my physical strength? Nice.

'Wait, focus, you idiot. You just broke a guy's hand.'

Before I can even process it, someone else lunges out of the growing crowd. They throw two small, spear-shaped knives straight at my legs. It's nothing my enhanced reflexes can't handle; my tail shifts to counterbalance my weight as I easily sidestep. But the second my foot touches down, a third guy attacks from my blind spot, his hands completely engulfed in flames.

"What the hell is wrong with—woah!"

I duck under a fiery right hook.

He throws a flurry of punches, but I weave through them with ease.

Suddenly, a fourth attacker tosses more knives my way, and my ears swivel, catching the subtle footsteps of even more people creeping in from my peripheral vision.

Okay, this is getting annoying.

It's surprisingly easy to dodge, honestly. It almost feels like a dance. Then again, today was definitely not the best day to wear a short dress. I'm probably putting on quite the show for the nosey bystanders.

'Hey, cut it out. Stop having fun in a life-or-death situation.' Time to end this circus.

Seven attackers in total. With a flick of my wrist, I use my darkness to slam them all hard against the ground. They're dressed in ordinary civilian clothes. Makes sense for an ambush, I guess—

"Woah!?"

I'm forced to jump back as two more guys jump into the fray. Luckily, the heavy pressure of my magic keeps the first seven literally kissing the dirt.

Okay, I am officially annoyed.

I can block and dodge them just fine relying on my instincts, but I can't actively sense their hostility. Or wait... are they not entirely hostile? If they really wanted me dead, wouldn't they have swarmed me all at once instead of attacking in waves? Ugh, why am I trying to psychoanalyze amateur assassins mid-fight?

Oh... OH!

As if responding to my frustration, the shadows cast by the growing crowd begin to... dance. They stretch and twist, urging me to pay attention. The moment I focus on them, a sharp, bitter scent hits my nose. Pure hostility. It's coming from a white-haired, bearded human trying to blend in, pretending to look just as shocked as the rest of the onlookers.

Let's test this out.

I pin the two new attackers with my shadows, then deliberately turn my side to the bearded guy, leaving myself wide open. But instead of taking the bait and attacking me directly...

"Hey Vixen, think fast!" he yells, launching a massive fireball.

But he doesn't aim at me. He aims at a couple of curious kids standing too close to the fight.

I lunge, my magic flaring as I barely manage to deflect the blast. But I wasn't fast enough. The residual heat clips the little boy's arm, leaving a nasty burn.

Huh?

...

.....

My ears flatten against my head. A low growl vibrates in my chest.

'I'm going to kill them.'

'All of them.'

'And anyone else who gets in my way.'

--- Lenna's POV ---

How annoying.

I mean, I'm super grateful to Uncle Dom for all his help over the years, but he clearly hasn't stopped seeing us as little girls in diapers who need constant babysitting.

"Why aren't you—"

"For the millionth time, I'm perfectly healthy. Don't you want to look at this with us?" he cuts me off.

He and my sister are sitting at one of the few remaining tables, flipping through a thick book full of furniture pictures. Where the hell did they even get that?

"Yeah, Len, at least join us," my sister chimes in.

"I'll leave it to you guys."

"Are you sure? The restaurant is your home too, you know."

I don't answer, just aggressively keep mopping the floor... Even though he's right, apparently, I just have terrible taste in interior design. My sister completely vetoed my idea of replacing our chairs with those new, giant slime-shaped cushions. I still don't get why. They're so incredibly soft, easily the most comfortable things I've ever sat on.

Shouldn't people be as comfy as possible while eating?

But no, she started rambling about hygiene, floor space, aesthetics, table height, and a bunch of other nonsense. Who cares? As long as the food is amazing, people will eat here, even if the restaurant were located in the middle of a literal garbage dump.

... Maybe.

For better or worse, we run this place together. Plus, the super fluff—I mean, Seina, seemed pretty confident that the creep Lance would finally leave us alone, so we're hoping things will start looking up.

If business actually picks up... maybe we can finally afford a real healer to check on Mom and Dad. It's been months since we could pay for a decent consultation, even with Uncle Dom and Dad pulling double duty. And whatever cheap medicine they've been taking is practically useless now.

Damn it... if you're going to preach about being self-sufficient, at least build a decent emergency fund! I can't really blame them, though. Who could have predicted an outbreak of some weird, unknown disease suddenly sweeping through the village?

The highly huggable—I mean, Seina, is a healer. But we can't just drag her over there just because we want to. I'm not great at reading people, but I get the feeling she'd actually be willing to help. Still, I can't ask her for a favor like that when we barely just met.

What if she thinks we're those trashy kinds of people who only act nice when they want to use you?

Obviously, I'm not going to just sit back and let our parents die, but I don't even know if her magic can cure them. We don't even know what the hell they caught, just that their skin is covered in these nasty, dark welts and spots. But hey... today for me, tomorrow for you, right?

Their lives are way more important than my pride. If things get worse, I'll swallow my shame and beg the soft—I mean, Seina, for help as a last resort.

Crash!

My train of thought derails completely. Uncle Dom stands up so abruptly that his wooden chair slams backward onto the floor.

"Uncle? What's wrong?" My sister asks, her voice tight.

I want to ask the same thing, but without a single word, he sprints past me and bolts out the front door. We drop everything and rush after him.

"Are the thugs back!?" my sister yells.

"Shh!"

My eye twitches in sheer shock. Did Uncle Dom just shush her? The exact same Uncle Dom who nearly cried giving melodramatic apologies just because he accidentally spilled a drop of coffee near her shoes earlier?

"Go. Run away as fast and as far as you can! NOW!"

I have never seen him look this terrified... Not even when we were surrounded by Lance's thugs.

Pure panic kicks in. We turn on our heels, fully prepared to bolt in the opposite direction—

And then, the sun vanishes.

Everything goes pitch black.

The ambient street sounds, the smell of dust, the evening breeze... gone.

It's like someone just slammed a thick, soundproof vault door shut around us. The darkness is so suffocating I can barely make out the silhouette of my trembling hands.

Then, a single word echoes through the void. It comes from everywhere at once, spoken in a voice that is both intimately familiar, yet terrifyingly alien.

"FALL."