Glass pelted Yeger in slow motion. Reflex had already triggered. He surveyed the Alchemist soldiers drifting feet first—each holding onto a rope—through the air amidst a shower of glass. Twelve, he counted.

  Already he was pulling his knives out—this fight definitely called for two.

  How they’d arrived without him hearing them was irrelevant. Right now, he just needed to survive.

  Yeger charged the closest Alchemist, still suspended in the air.

  Being midair, the man had no way to react to Yeger’s speed boosted movement. The man tried, and Yeger respected him for that—but it wasn’t enough to stop his blade as he slammed it through the man’s sternum with a grisly crack.

  The soldier was dead before he hit the ground. Yeger picked his next target as the glass blasted by and the murky red control room resumed a more normal speed.

  At the next window over, the Alchemist soldier who’d burst through was already on his feet, his own knife out as he faced Yeger. He leapt at Yeger.

  The world slowed again and Yeger swiped the knife blow aimed at his face away. The two continued to trade blows, shunting in and out of the bizarre slow world of reflex, their movements blending between lightening fast and a sluggish strain.

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  This soldier had skill, Yeger grudgingly noted as he forced him back towards the exit to the control room. A lot of skill.

  However, what he didn’t have was sheer brute size.

  Yeger darted forwards and the soldier’s knife slammed into his chest, lodging in his hardened muscle. He dropped his own blades as he grabbed the man’s hand and wrenched it off the knife.

  Desperately, the soldier flailed at Yeger, trying to break his grip.

  “They made you flying extracts yet?” Yeger asked.

  Understanding dawned on the soldier’s face—

  —a second before Yeger threw him out the window he’d just swung in through.

  Reflex and speed extract were only so useful. The minute he could get his hands on someone, it didn’t matter what strange extract changed their body, he’d win.

  His chest throbbed. The knife blow had certainly done damage.

  “Retreat!” Koskova yelled.

  Yeger spun to see her backing towards the door, the rest of the squad in tight formation around her. Eight of the Alchemist soldiers still stood, six stalked Koskova and the rest. The other two closed in on Yeger, cutting him off from the squad.

  If he charged, he might knock through them. More likely, though, he’d get a knife in the back of the neck.

  Or he could stay, hold off the eight while Koskova retreated and continued with the assault.

  He’d just have to die so they couldn’t give him truth extract and force answers out of him that would ruin the mission.

  Mikhail, tucked at the rear of the squad, reached the door and opened it, slipping through. This evidently annoyed the six Alchemist soldiers, because with blinding speed, they surged towards the squad.

  So Yeger did the one last thing he could think of. He reached deep inside, finding the normally buried sensation of raw, savage anger. He caught Klara’s eye, gave her a sharp nod, then with a deep breath he grasped the writhing anger…

  And raged.