Kalisa's phone buzzed like an alarm clock. She quickly snatched it from her coat pocket as she sprinted down the cracked sidewalk. It was Sherly. The message was short, urgent:
"He's here. The Swordman. Stay away."
Every instinct screamed for her to stop. She knew what Sherly meant and what Sherly believed was true. She couldn't stay away.
The Swordman leaves no witnesses. But Kalisa didn't belong in the shadows anymore. She had questions that needed answers, debts that needed collecting, and someone had to face the music. Sherly had always helped her; she wouldn't abandon her now.
So she ran. She was unsure if she had the skill to face the Swordsman, but she was sure she did not want to let Sherly die for her.
Dusk was settling over the old flower shop by the canal, its neon sign blinking weakly. Through the cracked glass door, she could hear Sherly's trembling voice. No time to hesitate.
Pushing the door open, Kalisa found herself in dim light and scarily quiet, with only the scent of old roses and dust. Then she saw him.
The Swordman stood silently behind the counter, a flash of black coat, one hand holding Sherly's slender neck, a long, lethal blade pressed beneath her chin. Sherly's quivering hands were pressed to her throat.
The whole room froze except Kalisa's heart, which thundered like war drums in her chest.
"I told you not to come," Sherly said.
Kalisa looked at her with pity. She had made Sherly a target by visiting her.
"I knew you would come looking for her. She is the keeper of seals," The Swordsman said with a husky voice,
Kalisa's voice shaking, but resolute, "Let her go."
The Swordman didn't speak. But Sherly's terrified eyes met Kalisa's, pleading for rescue.
Kalisa swallowed, stepping forward with slow determination.
"I'm the one you want," she said, trying to keep her voice calm. "I'm the one you thought stole from Don Khan. That was me."
He didn't flinch.
"I'm the one you should be looking for," she added. " But I'm also looking for you."
Sherly pulled involuntarily against the blade, just enough for Kalisa to see the woman's panic. Kalisa leaned forward.
Kalisa softly, but fiercely, "Let her go. We can do this without her blood."
The Swordman's eyes, dark and unmoving, never flickered. But Sherly visibly exhaled, her tension easing just a fraction.
Sherly's voice was wobbling, "Kalisa… please."
Kalisa didn't take her eyes off the Swordsman.
"If you want me, you'll have to come for me." Her words landed quietly in that flowered, tense room.
For a second, nothing moved but the dust on the floor. Kalisa's eyes were still on the Swordsman.
Then, in a move so fast it was almost unseen, the Swordman launched a blade across the room.
Kalisa barely had time to react. Twisting in place, the blade sliced past her torso and grazed her left arm. Pain exploded, white-hot. Her fingers clenched around her firearm, instinctively pulling it free in one fluid motion.
Kalisa mumbled under her breath, "Shit."
Breathing fast, she levelled the gun at him again. One hand pressed against her wounded arm, the other steady, shaking but aimed true.
Sherly was gasping, "Kalisa!"
But there was nowhere to retreat. Not now.
The Swordman remained still, his sword now resting casually on the counter. He watched Kalisa like a predator analysing its prey.
Kalisa's fingers tightened on the trigger.
Kalisa's voice was fierce, "Don't come closer."
He didn't move.
The tension skyrocketed. The moment that followed felt endless, like the entire world paused, waiting for a spark.
Kalisa said internally, beneath her breath, 'You can't miss. You can't let him buy time.'
The Swordman tilted his head slightly, as if amused. His breathing was controlled. Cold. Calculated.
Kalisa's voice was quivering, just a fraction, "Why are you doing this? Don Khan sent you, fine. But let her go."
The Swordman didn't answer. Instead, he flicked his wrist and another blade glinted into view, already halfway out of its sheath.
Kalisa gritted her teeth.
Kalisa's voice was low and firm, "I'm done running. Come on." She said that so that Sherly can be free, and it worked.
The Swordman lunged she squeezed the trigger.
The gunshot shattered the air.
Kalisa felt the recoil. The bullet screamed past, and the Swordman dodged it with uncanny grace, stepping forward in the same fluid motion that left him inches from the counter edge.
Another blade was already in his hand. Sherly shrieked.
Kalisa could not see him. How could she have missed him? It was like he vanished.
Sherky shouted, "Kalisa, behind you!"
Sherly dove sideways. Kalisa took a step forward, but the pain in her side and arm pulsed back, slow and cruel. She bit back the scream and took a half-step back, forcing a broad stance. Her elbow caught the Swordsman.
The Swordman squatted.
Kalisa thought to herself, "He's fast. Too fast. But he's not unstoppable."
Another blade in his hand, this time closer to Kalisa's head. She adjusted her gun, shook it slightly to calm her aim.
Kalisa's voice shakier than she meant, but alive, "I—Don't—"
The Swordman's blade flickered upward, silencing her. Without warning, he jabs forward, his blade slicing dangerously near her side again. She winced, forcing herself to stay upright.
Sherly screamed teeny.
Kalisa tried to lean out of the way, but the room was too tight.
With a sudden lurch, he was on her, his blade aimed at her breast. His coat brushed hers, cold metal threatening steel. Sherly's gasp echoed in Kalisa's ears.
Kalisa fired again, closer now, point-blank.
The Swordman twisted. The bullet hit the counter behind him. Sparks flew. The gun cracked again. The whole ceiling seemed to tremble. Concrete dust drifted in the gun's wake. Sherly cried again.
Kalisa's mind screamed: "Shoot. Please shoot. Don't hesitate."
A third blade flashed, and he slashed out. Kalisa was cut again, deeper this time. Pain consumed her leg. She dropped one knee, staggered.
He advanced again relentlessly.
Kalisa's blood blossomed dark against her coat. Pain whispered of collapse, but her adrenaline roared louder. She steadied herself.
Her gun tensed, one more shot.
And everywhere in the shop looked smoked up, and she could not see.
Suddenly, she could see him coming.
Kalisa's voice was urgent, "Get back, damn it! I swear!! I will kill you!!"
He didn't stop.
She fired again.
The bullet streaked past him, missing narrowly. He whirled, blades spinning, and in that sliver of motion, he closed the distance.
Kalisa felt steel scrape her metal gun barrel as he shoved past her. Blades grazed her skin again, across her ribs.
She staggered back, the gun arm worthless now. Sherly had jumped behind a steel rack, trembling but okay.
Kalisa squeezed her eyes shut as the Swordman stepped forward. His blade flashed at her throat silently. She couldn't move. The pain was too much. Her blood was all fire.
There was a sudden silence and for a moment, all she could see was in white vision.
Then a sound.
A metallic click of a gun, but not held by Kalisa.
Caleb's voice rang out, "Stop. Now."
The Swordman froze, blade suspended an inch from Kalisa's throat.
Kalisa opened her eyes, squinting from the pain.
Caleb emerged from the doorway, pistol trained on the Swordman, muzzle shaking.
He swallowed. "Don't make me shoot."
The Swordman inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the challenge, but his blade stayed in place.
Kalisa turned toward Caleb, voice a low hiss.
"Caleb…?" was all she could manage.
Caleb blinked, visibly torn, mouth open, expression thunderstruck.
The Swordsman stepped back, but was still between her and safety.
Blood pooled beneath Kalisa's leg.
Caleb and Kalisa both stared at the Swordman and through him, at each other.
Then the Swordsman lowered his blade, the invisible blade's whisper against Kalisa's neck:
"Tonight." And vanished.
Kalisa collapsed to her knees. Caleb dropped his gun and caught her. Sherly began to sob.
Immediately, Caleb carried Kalisa home. He drove so roughly that he was sure he was going to get a ticket for bad driving. The hospital wasn't an option.
Caleb slammed the apartment door shut behind them, the force echoing off the walls like a gunshot. Kalisa flinched, still cradling her injured arm and chest, blood drying in jagged lines down her sleeve. Her knees nearly buckled from the pain, but she stood tall, jaw clenched.
Caleb's eyes blazed with a fury she hadn't seen before. His chest rose and fell with heavy, ragged breaths as he faced her.
Caleb exploded, "What the hell were you thinking, Kalisa? Going after him? The Swordman? Are you out of your mind?!"
Kalisa lay on the couch, suppressing a wince as the pain screamed up her side. She stared at the floor for a second, silent.
Kalisa said calmly, "I didn't go there to fight him."
Caleb's voice was rising, "Don't lie to me. I saw the bullets. I saw the blood. You weren't talking your way out of anything; you engaged. With him!"
He paced, running his hands through his hair, unable to stay still.
Caleb said, almost pleading, "You're not trained for this. You're not armed enough, fast enough, ready for someone like that. No one is! Not even me. And I've been in shootouts with entire cartels!"
Kalisa's voice was bitter, "Well, neither is Sherly. And she was going to die if I didn't show up."
Caleb froze. His breath caught in his throat.
Kalisa's voice was cold and steady. "I had no choice."
She looked up now, locking eyes with him. Her voice wavered at first, but then grew steel-strong.
"You think I wanted to go toe-to-toe with a blade-slinging psychopath? I didn't go looking for a fight, Caleb. But he had Sherly. He would've slit her throat and left her like garbage. If I stayed back, she would be dead right now."
Caleb's voice was quieter now, "And what if you had died instead?"
Kalisa didn't answer immediately. She reached for the bloodied towel on the side table, pressed it harder against her wound.
"Then at least I would've done something right. At least I would've made it count," she replied
Caleb crouched in front of her, his eyes searching her face, looking for a crack, something, anything, that could explain why she kept charging toward danger like it was salvation.
He was still wondering why on earth she would engage the Swordsman, "You're not a soldier, Kalisa. You're not a cop. You're not... you're not expendable."
Kalisa said almost whispering, "I'm already marked by the Mafia, Caleb. Don Khan sent a ghost after me. A myth. And if I hand over the wallet, I'm dead anyway. I can't run. I can't beg. What's left but fight?"
Caleb exhaled slowly, the weight of her words hitting him like a bullet. He stood, pacing again, trying to think, trying not to yell again.
Caleb said quietly, more to himself, "There has to be another way…"
Kalisa replied, "I'm not just sitting around waiting for them to come for me. Not when I can still pull a trigger."
She leaned forward, her voice firmer now, bloodied hand trembling but determined.
Kalisa said in a low voice, "I'm not asking you to like what I did. I'm asking you to understand why I did it."
Caleb turned slowly, met her eyes, and saw it.
He saw neither recklessness nor stubbornness but survival and something else, resolve.
A beat passed between them, thick with tension, exhaustion, and fear.
Then Caleb spoke, low and serious. He was very furious. He felt Kalisa was no match for the Swordsman.
Caleb said in anger, "Next time… you call me first."
Kalisa said dryly. "Didn't know I had time to schedule a hit."
Caleb didn't laugh. His gaze hardened.
Caleb looked at Kalisa with a stern look "If you're going to war with someone like the Swordsman… then we go together."
Kalisa looked up at him, surprised.
For the first time, she nodded. She was surprised at herself as she seemed to agree with everything Caleb was saying.
And in that small gesture, a fragile alliance was born. But the Swordsman was not done.