Chapter 7
Tyler strolled through the cobblestone streets, hands buried in her coat pockets, her eyes casually scanning the town. Morning life buzzed around her—merchants shouting over crates of goods, children darting past with sticks for swords, and the clatter of hooves against stone echoing in the distance.
Her gaze narrowed.
'How hard is it to find trouble here? Probably easier if I went out at night.'
Just as she was about to round a quiet corner, a hushed voice cut through the air—a low murmur from a nearby alleyway, She paused, the tone sharp enough to pull her attention.
"I stand corrected," she muttered, a small smirk tugging at her lips.
She pivoted and stepped into the shadowed alley, boots silent on the dirt path as she advanced toward the voices. She was immediately met with the sight of three men closing in on a frightened girl, their postures predatory, voices low and cruel.
The first man was broad-shouldered and bald, with a jagged scar cutting down the side of his jaw. His patchy tunic hung open, revealing a leather vest that looked like it hadn't been cleaned in months. A rusted axe hung loosely from his belt, though the way he cracked his knuckles suggested he preferred using his fists.
The second man was leaner, wiry, and twitchy. He wore a threadbare hood that cast a shadow over his darting eyes and a long, faded green coat stolen from some military uniform. His fingers fidgeted constantly near the small knife sheathed at his hip.
The third was tall and lanky, with wild, shoulder-length black hair and a twisted grin. He wore mismatched armor—a single rusted pauldron on one side, torn breeches with one leg wrapped in cloth strips, and boots two sizes too large. He leaned on a crude iron staff as if trying to look important.
In the middle of the alley, cornered, was a girl no older than Tyler. She had short, curly chestnut hair that framed a round, pale face streaked with fear. Her clothing was simple but well-kept: a soft beige blouse tucked into a navy wool skirt, with a fraying shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders. A small satchel lay at her feet, clearly dropped in a panic.
'You know,' Tyler thought dryly, 'I was really hoping to be wrong about what I assumed was happening here.'
To no one's surprise, the three men were robbing the poor girl.
Tyler sighed audibly and cleared her throat with exaggerated volume.
"Oi, shit stain!" she shouted, her voice cutting sharply through the alley's gloom.
The three men froze and turned to glare at her, clearly not expecting company—let alone sass.
"Boys, look at this," the lead thug sneered, baring yellowed teeth. "Ān lȳtel mæden þe spēleþ hǣre. Hwæt segst þū—sculon wē hīe lærung āscēawian?" (A little girl playing hero. What do you say—should we teach her a lesson?)
The other two chuckled lowly, eyes gleaming with cruel amusement.
One of them stepped forward, swaggering in his step as he stopped just short of Tyler, eyes raking her over. "Wēst þū, hlāford," (You know, boss,) he said with a lecherous grin, "hēo nis nā hālfe yfel for cild. Mæg brengan gōdne wurð… eallunga ēac æfter lȳtlan gamene." (She's not half bad for a kid. Could fetch a good price… even after a little fun.)
Tyler's expression darkened, her golden eyes narrowing as a chill swept the air around her.
"Disgusting," she said quietly, voice cold and steady.
"Hwæt wæs þæt?" ("What was that?) the man leaned in, smugness still plastered across his face. ""Ic gehȳrde þæt nǣte." (Didn't quite catch that.)
"I said—" Tyler raised her hand and pointed two fingers at his shoulder. "—you're disgusting."
A pulse shimmered in the air as a boundary barrier appeared—then snap. In an instant, a clean, crimson arc painted the wall behind him as the man's arm was severed at the shoulder, dropping to the ground with a sickening thud. He screamed, staggering back in agony as blood sprayed, speckling Tyler's face.
Her expression didn't flinch.
'You know,' she thought bitterly, 'just because I was male before this body… I'd forgotten how vile some men can be. It's unfortunate, really. I only planned to rough them up. But now…'
Her eyes glinted with something far less forgiving. 'Now I'm not feeling so generous.'
Tyler's eyes swept over the remaining two men. Both flinched, the bravado draining from their faces as they instinctively took a step back.
She glanced around—no sign of the girl the bandits had cornered earlier. The screaming of the wounded man below her was just background noise now.
'Good,' she thought. 'She ran. At least she won't have to see this.'
Her gaze locked back onto the last two thugs.
"Ēalā," (Oi) she called, voice low and cutting. "Wilt þū stōdan þǣr beofende, oððe hæfst þū in þē þæt þū wyrcan gewilnest?" (You just gonna stand there shaking, or are you actually gonna try something?)
The leader's face twisted in anger, trying to mask his fear. "Hit is ānhwilc lȳtel mæden. Wē magon hīe geniman." he growled, pulling a jagged knife from his belt. (It's just one little girl. We can take her)
The second followed suit, drawing his own blade with trembling hands.
Tyler remained still, unimpressed. Her golden eyes gleamed with chilling disinterest.
"Knives?" she said slowly, almost mockingly. "Against a little girl?"
She tilted her head, expression turning cruel.
"If only your mothers could see you now."
She paused, lips curling into a faint smirk.
"Oh—right. They're probably dead. Makes sense."
Both men snarled, lunging forward in tandem.
Tyler raised her hand, her voice calm.
"Bad move."
Tyler sidestepped the first bandit's clumsy slash with ease. As he stumbled past her, she opened her hand—an opaque shimmer appeared, forming into a sleek boundary dagger. Without hesitation, she drove it straight into his throat.
The man gurgled, eyes wide in shock as blood spilled down his chest.
Before his body hit the ground, the boss lunged forward, knife raised. Tyler yanked the dagger free and turned just in time to meet his blade with her own. Sparks danced as steel met energy.
With her free hand, she seized his wrist.
"Too slow."
She rammed the dagger up under his arm, right into the soft tissue beneath his shoulder. He screamed, dropping his knife as his arm went limp.
Tyler shoved him back.
Her golden eyes flicked past the writhing man—just in time to see the first bandit she'd maimed crawling away, dragging himself across the dirt with one arm.
She didn't hesitate.
Spinning on her heel, she whipped the dagger through the air. It whistled past the second thug's ear and embedded itself deep into the back of the crawling man's skull.
He collapsed, dead before he hit the ground.
Tyler turned her gaze back to the downed leader as he scrambled away, fear etched deep into his face.
"Ic bidde þē, ne slēa mē! Ic syll þē swā hwæt swā þū wylle — feoh, ǣghwæt!" he begged, voice trembling.
(Please don't kill me! I'll give you anything you want — money, anything!)
"Sōþlīce?" Tyler asked, tilting her head.
(Really?)
"Y-gea!" he stammered eagerly. (Yeah!)
"Swā be hit," (Alright then) she said, her tone casual."Syle mē eall þæt þū āhst, and ic mōte embe þīn līf geþencan." (Give me everything you've got, and I'll consider letting you live.)
'Fool,' the man thought, quickly rifling through his pockets. 'The moment I'm free, I'll find you and gut you myself.'
Coins clinked as they hit the ground—copper, silver, and a few gold among them. Jewelry followed: rings, a brooch, two necklaces. Tyler watched in silence as the last trinket dropped.
She nodded, satisfied. Þū miht gān nū." (You may leave now.)
The boss sprang to his feet and bolted—straight into an invisible wall. There was a dull thud as he rebounded off the boundary, stumbling backwards in confusion.
"Hwa—?" (Wha—?)
"Gesieh, hēr is þæt þing…" (See, here's the thing...)Tyler stepped forward slowly. "Þū eart swīðe tō forscēaðfull tō forlǣtenne līfigende." ("You're far too dangerous to be left alive.")
He turned, eyes wide. "A-ac þū sædest—" (B-but you said—)
"Ic cwæð ic wolde embe hit geþencan," (I said I'd think about it) she corrected, her voice cold. "And ic hæbbe gemod min gewended." (And I've changed my mind)
Her expression darkened as she raised her hand again."Ic hæbbe þās þumre rǣd: gif þū fandast tō slēan oþþe hēarm macian, þū scyle hit fullfremian fram þǣm fruman… forþan þe næs bēoþ þǣm tō twegra." (I have this rule of thumb: if you try to kill or harm someone, you better finish the job on the first try… because there won't be a second.)
A shimmering boundary formed in front of her palm, then surged forward with crushing force toward the man. He pounded against the invisible wall behind him in a blind panic, desperation etched into every motion.
But it was too late.
The barrier surged forward, a shimmering force of pressure and weight, crushing him in an instant. Blood splattered against the alley walls, the sickening crunch of bones echoing before silence settled once more.
Tyler stood still, eyes cold.
"Worthless scum," she muttered, lowering her hand.
Chapter 7: End