Dragan blinked as the bald woman came flying out of the tent, landing in an undignified pile a short distance away. He exchanged a glance with Bruno, who was standing next to his bulky antique chair. Bruno shrugged.

As signals went, it didn't get any more blatant than that.

Bruno dropped to the ground -- pulling their two rebel escorts down with him -- and in that same moment, Dragan fired his Gemini Shotgun in all directions, six shots hitting six targets. The closest guards surrounding their group dropped to the ground, some clutching their injuries, others falling still. Those remaining raised their weapons, faces pale, eyes flicking between the tent and Dragan.

Did they rush to protect their leader, or did they eliminate the immediate threat? Dragan didn't envy having to make that decision.

It seemed they intended to split the difference. A fair number of the guards rushed at Dragan, swords and spears pointed at his body lounging in the chair, while a few others ran for the tent, using the first group as cover.

Dragan's eyes flicked up again to look at the person standing next to him. "Serena," he said seriously. "Go wild."

Bruno's face spread into Serena's grin. "Finally," she said, briefly stretching as the guards came to them. "It was so boring having to watch all that."

One of the guards swords came down towards Dragan's face -- his heart skipped a beat -- but in the second before it made contact, Serena punched the blade with an Aether-infused fist. The weapon went flying off, sailing end over end until it stuck itself into a far-off tent post.

"Guardian Entity," Dragan heard, the bald woman on the ground picking herself up off the ground. "Rokurokubi!"

The bald woman was still facing the tent, completely ignoring the conflict outside. Sickly green Aether coalesced around the woman's right shoulder, materializing a creature that at first seemed like a giant leech -- until a fanged skull burst out from its slimy folds and rushed towards the command tent, connected to the main body by an impossibly long and flexile neck.

"Serena," said Dragan hurriedly -- they couldn't afford for Ruth to get overwhelmed. "Stop messing around. Deal with the enemy -- the way we talked about."

"You're so bossy," Serena frowned, casually stepping out of the way of a guard's strike and then kneeing him in the groin. "But okay."

Serena lashed out twice with her fists, punching right through the back of Dragan's antique chair -- reaching the piles of stone hidden inside. Violet Aether danced around Serena's fingers as she pulled the stone free, the rocks already cracking and fusing into twin greatswords.

The long-necked Guardian Entity was already dissipating -- Ruth must've dispatched it from inside the tent -- but there was no shortage of other targets for Serena to go after.

The girl grinned. Dragan almost felt sorry for them.

Strong.

Ruth dodged backwards, narrowly avoiding a downward strike of the shamisen from Nael Manron as she landed into a perch on what remained of the long table. Red Aether danced around both of them -- coiling around Ruth's armour and winding around Nael's instrument.

Lily had told her that Nael Manron's skill had given him something of a reputation as a warrior, but Ruth had taken that with a pinch of salt. The people of this planet didn't even fully understand how to use their Aether -- how tough could they themselves be?

Pretty tough, as it turned out. The shamisen in Nael's hands hadn't shown any special abilities, anything that set it apart from a normal musical instrument, yet it's wielder was using it to keep pace with Ruth. Scratch that -- more than keep pace, he was dictating it, forcing her onto the backfoot.

There was a snap as Nael's remaining aide, the woman in the green poncho, fired another arrow at Ruth. She didn't bother to dodge -- instead, she simply demanifested her mask and caught the projectile between her teeth, Aether sparking around her molars.

The woman's eyes widened, just fractionally. Ruth answered that with a grin that snapped the arrow in half.

Nael Manron hadn't pursued her. He just stood there in the same position, shamisen held in front of him with both hands. It was sort of funny -- that was definitely a musical instrument, but the way Nael held it you could believe it had been designed as a weapon from the start. He had that kind of dignity.

"My name is Nael Manron," he declared -- apparently, he'd taken her removing the mask as a prompt to introduce himself. "Regulator, First Class. I demand you name yourself as well."

There was no harm in it, and it could serve as a useful distraction. "Ruth," she rasped, spitting out the arrow.

Nael's eyes flicked up, glancing at her bare head. "You are another outsider, then. You seem more adept than your companions. There is a killer behind your eyes."

He was right. She was a killer -- it was all she was good for. Trying to be anything else, do anything else, had only resulted in humiliation.

She could only do this one thing. So she'd do it right this time.

The aide took a step closer to Nael, subtly tugging on his sleeve. He shook his head, eyes still fixed on Ruth.

"No," he said. "I'm sorry, Grena, but I will not flee. Should I turn my back on this person, I'd be dead before I took a step."

Ruth would need full focus when fighting Nael -- even without Aether, he was smart enough to predict and intercept her attacks. She couldn't be worrying about the aide's -- Grena's -- arrows. That woman would have to be taken out first.

Sneak attack. That was what Dragan would do.

"Now," Nael began -- only to be interrupted with a flash of movement from Ruth. He hurriedly raised his shamisen to block the incoming blow, but Ruth hadn't rushed at him. She'd spun on the spot and hurled something at Grena with all her strength.

Her armour was modular -- each Set could be manifested and demanifested piece by piece, plate by plate. There was nothing stopping her from, for example, manifesting her clawed boot in her hand instead of on her foot.

Nothing at all.

Grena dropped to the ground and the clawed boot shredded through her cloak instead, ripping through the wall of the tent on the way out. She hadn't hit her target, but this was the distraction Ruth needed.

She launched herself towards Grena, claws bared -- an unconscious growl trickling from her throat as she prepared to gut her enemy, to feel warm meat on cold steel, to know what it was to fulfill her purpose once again.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

Danger.

Two attacks came for her at once.

The first originated from Grena. As she fell to the ground, turning over in the air, the woman had the presence of mind to point her arm towards the incoming Ruth -- and just under the sleeve of that arm, Ruth could see the telltale glint of a metal barrel. A hidden weapon.

Ruth jumped backwards at the last moment, narrowly avoiding the gust of flame that burst forth from Grena's concealed flamethrower. The fire tickled the ceiling of the tent, already beginning to spread -- and Ruth felt the heat on her face, both from the flames itself and the shame of her inattentiveness. She should have noticed an obvious sneak attack like that!

What she did notice, however, was the second attack coming for her from behind -- the head of Nael's shamisen, aimed right for her skull. With the strength and speed with which it was moving, she couldn't be certain that her Aether would hold. Best to dodge -- but the flames made that risky, too.

Ruth ducked down, and the shamisen passed over her head, wood brushing through her hair. At the same time, she rolled off to the side, narrowly avoiding a brutal kick from Grena. Their teamwork was impeccable -- it was almost like Nael and his subordinate could read each other's minds. They knew each other well, at the very least.

She had to throw them off, then.

For a moment, Ruth danced crazy -- executing half-a-dozen feints in a single second before finally leaping off to the side and lunging for Nael's throat. He wasn't even facing her anymore, unable to keep up with the speed of her movements, his neck wide open. A single nick of her claws and this fight would be over.

-- and this awful feeling in her stomach would finally go away.

Snap. Snap. Snap.

Ruth's claws came to a halt inches from Nael's jugular, so suddenly it was like they'd hit a brick wall. She tried to thrust them forward again, to cross that tiny distance -- but even with all her strength, the only sign of her effort was the slightest tremor of her hand.

Something had wrapped itself around her claws -- three silver shining cords of steel, wrapped around her gauntlet, holding it in place with incredible power. Ruth's eyes tracked the length of the strings to their source: Nael's shamisen, of course.

The snaps she'd heard -- they'd been the strings of that musical instrument, breaking free to intercept her attack. Nael Manron had more tricks than she'd expected.

She could hear Grena standing up behind her, the clink of her flamethrower being pointed in her direction -- and in the same moment, she felt the cords around her hand tighten as Nael swung the shamisen, dragging her along with it.

This was going to suck.

This bald woman was more annoying than Dragan had anticipated.

When the Guardian Entity on her shoulder had first dissipated, Dragan had assumed that was it -- one threat neutralised -- but that wasn't the case at all. The leech-thing had reappeared, this time focused on Serena, regrowing its head every time the girl inevitably beheaded it.

Serena danced through the grass, twin greatswords slicing through the air as she beheaded and beheaded, the numerous skulls that the Guardian Entity produced flying up into the air. Each and every one dissipated before hitting the ground, reduced to nothing but sparks of Aether.

Dragan glanced behind him, at the two rebels they'd brought along with them. "Don't stop," he commanded. "No matter what. Got it?"

The two took a split-second break from hurling stones at Dragan to nod, tears in their eyes. That split-second break was sort of the opposite of what Dragan had just said, but he was willing to look past that. Seriously, though, had these people ever been in a fight before? What kind of resistance was this?!

"You heard him! Keep throwing, idiot!" one called to the other, not throwing as he did so.

"You keep throwing, moron!" she cried back, doing much the same.

Dragan was simply filled with faith in humanity.

They had pretty good throwing arms, at least. The pebbles they threw at Dragan were quickly absorbed into his Gemini Shotgun -- and from there, they could be rapid-fired at any rank-and-file soldiers brave enough to try attacking them. With the three of them, it was almost like they'd formed a human gatling gun.

He couldn't risk firing at the Guardian Entity user, however -- Serena was constantly getting in the way, and he didn't want to risk hitting her and Bruno with his attacks. Still, they were no doubt getting tired, constantly attacking for so long.

"Serena!" he called out as he fired a volley of suppressive fire towards a group of nearby archers. "The heads are disposable -- go for the main body, on her shoulder!"

Serena stepped backwards, narrowly avoiding the lunge of a head intent on snapping its jaws around her side. She glanced towards Dragan, eyes filled with wonder at his statement.

"The heads are disposable?" she whispered, narrowly avoiding another attempted bite. "Just like a snake…"

That wasn't how snakes worked, and Serena knew full well that wasn't how snakes worked, but Dragan wasn't going to argue the point. "Yes, Serena," he said. "Just… just like a snake. So go kill it like a snake."

She snapped a brief salute and charged towards the bald woman, swords dragging in the mud behind her.

Dragan could see where she got the comparison with a snake, though. The way the Guardian Entity stretched and flexed through the air, the way it snapped and lunged, even the fangs protruding from its mouth -- they were all rather serpentine. The fangs, too, almost reminded him of --

Oh. Oh.

Another piece of the puzzle clicked together in his head -- and he had a good idea of where he'd find the next one. All it required was a pinch of suicidal confidence.

"Serena!" he called out again. "Hold up a sec!"

The girl skid to a halt, mud flying up behind her. She looked back at Dragan curiously, and even her opponent cast a glance in his direction.

"Change of plans," he said, rising from what was left of his seat on shaky, uncertain legs. "I'll take care of this one. Get comfy." A grin spread across his face.

It was time for a science experiment.