Chapter 11 : One shot

One chance. Oz ripped the necklace off her neck, the warmth of the gem within her grandfather's ring surged around her.

"Remember Ozzie" Grandfather told her many times as they shadowboxed between his business meetings. The old man was still in the prime of his life, fitter than most 20 year olds. One of the first generation of Hunters, he was the White Bearded Bear. A man to be feared and respected.

"Use your weight with each punch. Don't fight it. Follow through. What's the first rule of fighting, precious?"

"First punch should be the last punch."

"That's my girl." He would laugh, rustling her hair and smiling. "Make me proud Ozzie."

'Grandfather! You old bastard, give me one last leg up will you? Just for old times' sake.' She thought with a wheeze. With the ring tight in her fist she punched as hard as she could into the hunter's spine. A loud grunt escaped the man, a splatter of blood covered the snow around him.

Oz was expecting him to stumble forward. She didn't expect the mountain of a man to blast skyward from the punch. The frigid air mixed with the sudden wind from her punch, freezing the man from the neck down in a block of ice. His eyes rolled back into his head as he struggled, fighting and kicking for only a moment before he went still. She looked down at her hand, then back. The beast of a man had a perfect fist sized hole in his chest, the blood all crystalized into ice.

[LEVEL UP! +1 Stat to all Points] 

The blue box chimed in her ear as she wheezed, her heart thundering as she wiped her hands frantically in the snow to clean them. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves, the cold apathy returning through the momentary lapse of composure.

'Guess all those hours lugging carts helped.' She thought. A small boost of confidence came to life. And that boost to magic. Grandfather's ring hummed in her hand. She squeezed it hard as she thought of that old bastard and blinked back unwanted tears.

[One enemy remains!]

The sight before the man was downright terrifying

A ghost in white, fluttering just above the blood covered snow. The cloak flew out as one of its eyes glowed bright red. Frozen shards of ice surrounded its fist like a gauntlet. Bloodlust dripped from its aura like a tidal wave, filling the air with a bitter taste of ozone. A deep primitive fear raced through him as he crawled away, gasping and trying to flee. Hot tears ran down the man's face, the stink of urine filled the air as he was suddenly grabbed upward by the ice covered hand. He dropped the useless rifle as he stared at her.

12 elite front guards of Black Tiger Guild were crippled on the ground, taken down in mere minutes of the woman's arrival. What type of monster was this!

"Talk." Oz demanded as her hood fell back, showing the terrifying monster was just a woman.

"How are humans getting into this world? You're just a normal human, how are you here?"

"I don't know!" He cried, sobbing like a terrified child in the glow of her red eyes. Oz growled again, drawing him closer. Her breath was like ice against his face. She held up the keycard, the edge hard against his face. She pushed hard enough the blunt corner actually sliced his face.

"Do you want to join the others?" She motioned, a few bodies were still twitching in the snow. Wheezing as they drew bloodied breaths, another wave of arrows came down pin cushioning the twitching forms.

"There's a door!" The soldier looked away, his entire body shaking hard. "In the ruins there's a door!"

Soon after, Oz stood before a large metal plated door, completely out of place in the ruined temple. Despite the snow falling from the cracks in the ceiling it was surprisingly comfortable. The rooms tucked away from the main gathering room were warm and dry. There were rooms stocked with crate after crate of ready to eat meals, rifles, and odd minerals. They must have been using this as a makeshift base. A headless statue sat in the gathering hall, above a frozen over fountain. A pair of wide open wings sat high on the statue's back, their arms open to those below. Perhaps some sort of goddess?

A number of soldiers were tied in piles together to the corner, most unconscious and a few dead from her sneak attacks over the hour. She cleared out every human with pinpoint accuracy, only killing those who dared strike back against her path of revenge. Parents were sobbing as they were reunited with their stolen children and sisters. Nahern stood to the side as he held a young woman in his arms, silent as he squeezed her tight.

The sight made Oz smile, a cozy warmth thawing her frozen heart.

'That must be his sister.' She thought then looked back to her guide. She needed to get back as soon as possible. She held the sobbing man up, easily lifting the grown man by his collar thanks to her new found strength.

"This is it! You use the keycard! It takes you back into another dungeon!" He kicked and fought, his arms frozen painfully tight behind his back.

She held up the orange card she stole, he nodded furiously. "Now let me go!"

"You haven't answered my other question." She said coldly, "What is with the red paint?"

This time the man shut up hard, his lips sealed. Oz gave a harder squeeze, enough he let out a sudden yelp of pain. She felt, more than heard, his arm snapping under her squeeze.

He let out choked sobs as he doubled over, "The blood. The blood of a hunter will let others through." The man said between dry heaving. She frowned before nodding over. One of the ice-elves silently stalked over, eyes narrow with rage. "I'll take him, Saint."

"What? No! Put me down! You bitch!!!" He screamed as the elves took him away. Oz thought she should care, but ...honestly she didn't.

Instead, Oz turned back to the door, her fingers tingling as she touched the metal. The same odd feeling raced through her, this would lead her back right? Her watch beeped on her wrist, the same glitchy alarm. It had said six hours for hours now. Was it broken? No matter, she had to try!

"Are you really going to leave?"

She jumped when Nahern spoke out to her, the young woman holding his arm. She was stunned by how pretty the woman was. She was nearly as tall as Nahern with the same hair, but her eyes were far more gentle. There was a strength and grace in her movements, as well a confidence Oz was somewhat jealous of. She didn't look like a child at all.

"I need to get back." She muttered.

"I will go with you then." Nahern said, rather too loudly. Oz stared at him stupidly before grumbling.

"I'm not sure if the door will take me home."

"All the better if you have someone with you."

"Seriously, you have what you wanted. You don't need me anymore."

Nahern shook his head, "We have the supplies but our enemies still have their own stores. You have to come back."

Oz groaned, slamming the keycard against the small reader. The gentle chime shocked her as the door opened.

"Look," She started but was quickly silenced by the young woman rushing out. She took Oz's hands, bowing her head over them.

"Please Lady Saint, you are still needed here. Those monsters have done so much against us. Our home is gone, our people murdered. Our sisters were taken through this door. Let us help you so we can find them. I am Selene, I will follow you through the darkest dungeons." Selene spoke with conviction and confidence, not once did her voice waver. When she looked back into Oz's eyes she had a fierceness about her.

The hunter groaned but nodded, not wishing to waste more time. "Fine. Fine."

Nahern held up his hand to the group, his voice calling all their attention. "Everyone, we will make camp here. Repair what you can and sort through the supplies, we will return shortly. Allin is in charge until our return with the Saint."

Allin, a darker haired elf stood tall, his fist over his chest. "I will oversee the clan with honor, sire."

Oz eyed the group of men and pointed, "We take them and the guns with us. Hostages might be useful. Once I have things settled...we come back."

"Agreed."

"Agreed!" Chirped Selene, tying back her long hair into a braid. A short sword now on her hip.

The dungeon door hung open before them, an endless tunnel awaiting.