The Izanami Veilseeker rose, the sniper rifle the colour of anthracite sighting its target atop the junk heap. The weapon Caliburn had so generously equipped her with had an effective range of 1200 metres, which meant that the firing range aboard the Spirit of Nimue was an insufficient means of practice or assessment.

  She glanced down at Guinevere and Clark, who were situated at the bottom of the heap. Evantra took in a breath and activated her skill.

  [Stonerooted]

  After practising a countless number of times with Noelle, she realised she could control the intensity of the skill’s activation. Beyond that, she could isolate the parts of her body that [stonerooted] applied to, greatly increasing her flexibility. It also allowed her to extend the duration of its effect before it caused her heart to stutter.

  Evantra felt her upper body lock up, eliminating the weapon sway on the rifle, even as her pointer finger curled to depress the trigger.

  A loud crack rang out through the junkyard as Evantra’s shot found its mark. She repeated the process with every round.

  The timing was the most challenging part to get down. If she didn’t release [stonerooted] at the precise point, the recoil of the shot could send her toppling backwards, like a rigid cardboard cutout knocked over by the wind. That issue was mitigated somewhat by adopting a prone position. Releasing [stonerooted] the instant she depressed the trigger allowed her to brace at the right point. Of course, if she had the flexibility to lie prone, [stonerooted] declined somewhat in the utility it offered, but was still useful.

  Evantra sighted her tight grouping with satisfaction, receiving a bright grin from Clark below her, followed by an excited single-sided flurry of words directed towards a very exasperated Guinevere. Seeing her reluctant nods towards Clark, Evantra guessed that she was content with her ranged abilities – at least as far as they came firing at an unmoving target.

  It looks like they were content to test her skills with moving targets, out in the field.

  Close combat was next.

  ***

  Evantra watched as Guinevere’s forearms unravelled.

  The process began with the appearance of the slightest seams of shadow across her arms, cracks in her cybernetic skin. They deepened and widened, her skin moving further apart to reveal the interlocking plates which comprised the upper surface of her forearm.

  As well as what they contained within.

  Blades.

  The same black blades Guinevere had held to Evantra’s throat on the first, no, second occasion she had encountered her. Upon reflection, Evantra was certain that Guinevere had accompanied Lancelot to City Hall when she had first glimpsed the siblings.

  The woman prowled like a lioness on the hunt, lithe and flowing in her movements as she stalked the ground before Evantra. She would shift and change her direction in the blink of an eye, seamlessly concealing any tells which betrayed her intent.

  Guinevere lunged.

  Evantra fell downwards into a crouch as the blades scythed the air where her neck had been a moment ago. Her heart began to hammer in her chest as she lashed out with the combat knife she had been equipped with, its blade running just about half the length of her forearm. With a casual drop of her arm, Guinevere intercepted the blow, and Evantra didn’t even see the woman flinch as she diverted it.

  Evantra’s eyes trailed her blades. She watched as Guinevere whipped back her arm—

  Only to curl her palm into a fist and slam it into the right plane of Evantra’s jaw, sending her sprawling to the ground.

  She noticed I was preoccupied with the blades.

  Evantra twisted her body to the left, as Guinevere’s blades skittered across the spot she had been lying, sending sparks flying on the titanium steel plating beneath them. Evantra aimed a kick towards the woman’s shins, which she aborted when Guinevere sliced down with her other blade.

  Evantra leapt back, attempting to create distance with the Ghostslayer, but she watched helplessly as the woman advanced towards her, trivialising her attempts, applying constant pressure.

  Guinevere’s fighting style was a lesson in humility. The slightest mistake was revealed and punished ruthlessly, each blow a lesson. The woman moved with unparalleled efficiency and grace, her strikes reminding Evantra of that of a rootviper – a Veilcreature from the hanging gardens known for its blinding strikes.

  Her footwork ensured that Evantra was subjected to constant pressure, switching stances effortlessly as Evantra dodged and juked in various directions, until she was trapped at the very corner of the sparring tiles.

  Evantra gritted her teeth, her effort all for nought.

  Noelle had warned her of this, but in her stubbornness, she believed that she would have at least posed a semblance of a threat.

  She was reminded that for all intents and purposes, she was a measly organic without cybernetics or, more crucially, the experience needed to battle in close range. Pointing and shooting a weapon aided by her skills was one thing. It was another to dance with a Ghostslayer who had honed her skills over the course of a lifetime.

  Evantra decided to do what she did best.

  She threw herself onto the Ghostslayer’s blades. She watched as Guinevere’s bright green eyes widened a fraction before she instinctively retracted the blades, giving Evantra an opening to lurch forward, her combat knife flashing towards the Ghostslayer’s abdomen.

  Guinevere knocked the blade out of her hand with a precise swat and caught Evantra’s throat with her other hand, even as her blades gradually receded into their housings in her forearm.

  The woman’s voice was calm and serene as she spoke to Evantra, even as her bright green eyes seemed to effortlessly flicker over Evantra’s every microexpression, her throat still in the woman’s hands.

  “I’ve spoken to Lancelot and Galahad about your performance in the Veilsurge. You may not freeze up in the presence of Veilcreatures, but if any get into your vicinity, run. The learning curve isn’t something you can blow through in a couple of days. Your talent for shooting is exceptional, but you will see the cracks emerge when you apply it in practice, I can promise you that. The same goes doubly so for close combat encounters. The only way you’ll improve is by sparring and critically reviewing your performance. It isn’t just about your execution of your blows, but the strategy with which you employ them – both are equally as crucial.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Guinevere seemed to blink at Evantra’s reply. Perhaps she had expected greater resistance from her or a snarky comment. Evantra wasn't about to diminish the Ghostslayer's opinion of her. They were professionals, even if they did banter with one another. She was unproven, a rookie who was a burden to them.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Evantra watched as Guinevere's interlocking plates across her forearms clicked softly back into place. She watched the woman's arms shimmer as her cybernetic skin seemed to pulse.

  “Good job.”

  Evantra turned to the woman in surprise. For the first time since she had met Guinevere, the Ghostslayer smiled.

  “It takes guts to do what you did. The self-preservation instinct is stronger than you think, and it’s something that needs to be whittled down, gradually over time, if you’re to fight decisively,” the woman shot an approving nod towards Clark, who returned a solemn nod.

  “You may not have had the close combat experience, but I can see that in that regard? You’ve exceeded all of my expectations. That is a quality that is harder to train, even with desensitisation.”

  What followed was a series of gruelling physical tests that assessed her fitness levels. She supposed she probably shouldn’t have been surprised at just how lacking her results were. Steve assigned her a strict routine of weight training that she was meant to begin that very day, heedless of the potential aches she would experience, which could serve to impede her during the raid.

  According to him, the moment you came up with one excuse to skip training, that was the moment you found others. Evantra took his words to heart. Her cardiovascular fitness was slightly improved, given her recent escapades and brushes with the Veil, but she hadn’t engaged in any form of systematic training. Guinevere saw to it that it was promptly rectified by drawing up a comprehensive program.

  It wasn’t long before they delivered the preliminary outcome of her assessments and their stance on whether Evantra would be able to accompany them on the raid.

  “She isn’t ready.”

  Clark nodded at Guinevere’s words, his expression even. Evantra felt a sudden sinking feeling in her gut as Guinevere tonelessly delivered her conclusion.

  Still, it was no surprise to her.

  Even with her above-average talent for shooting, she was still functionally an unaugmented organic with a fraction of the experience of Caliburn’s mundane operatives. The only reason she was receiving the attention she was at all was due to Clark’s appreciation of her potential.

  “You need a lot more training before you’re ready for a raid. Even a small one, as close to the military boundary as we’ll be delving into.”

  Evantra’s face fell, and this time, it wasn’t a manufactured expression.

  I’ll need to turn this to my advantage. While the Ghostslayers are gone, I’ll sneak into—

  “So, I’ll give you a choice.”

  Guinevere’s words tore her away from her thoughts. The woman gave her another one of her slight, rare smiles as she spoke.

  “Train with me for the remaining days. If you can keep up and you don’t fall out, then we’ll give you the option to come along. But if you choose to do so, it’ll be on your head. Is that acceptable to you, Clark?”

  Clark nodded, and Evantra felt a surge of relief. Still, it was clear that if she wanted to tag along on the raid, there was little chance of her properly scouting out the Spirit. Attempting to infiltrate Clark and Elaine’s office was hardly on the cards, but now, it was rendered an impossibility.

  However, the opportunity had presented itself.

  All she had to do was endure Guinevere’s training regimen for her.

  How hard could it be?

  ***

  “Evantra? Evantra? Are you there?”

  Evantra groaned where she lay face down on her bed, her head buried in a pillow. She was in the room assigned to her, which was a distance away from the other Ghostslayers’ quarters. Every single fibre of her body burned. Every muscle, pushed to the very brink. Her legs twitched involuntarily, and she saw muscle fibres tense and retract against her will beneath her skin.

  Something that had surprised her was how generous the Ghostslayer had been with her time. According to Clark, it was her assigned day off, and she had spent it teaching Evantra the ropes.

  “Yeah. The training is good, Carmen. They are really good. I’m going to be honest…”

  Evantra felt her gut twist, but she reminded herself of the purpose of all of this. The reason she was sleeping on a bunk aboard the Spirit of Nimue.

  Millie.

  “They are probably the best teachers I could ask for. They’re giving me one-on-one training and are actually invested in my growth. I… didn’t expect it. Maybe I should have… corpos are all about results, and giving their recruits crappy training wouldn’t be in their best interests.”

  Evantra didn’t care if there was anyone eavesdropping or if Caliburn were listening in. Her sincerity was on plain display.

  “I’m glad, Eva. Take care of yourself.”

  “I will, abuela. I miss you. Is Lucas sleeping? Tell him I said hi.”

  “I will. Here, Noelle wants to speak to you.”

  Evantra took in a deep breath before voicing her assent.

  “Hey Evantra.”

  “Hey.”

  “You… doing ok? I was listening.”

  “Yeah, I am. What have you been up to?”

  Noelle paused.

  They had agreed not to speak about any of their plans over the phone. There was a fine balance to be struck. They couldn’t avoid talking about everything, yet they also couldn’t discuss their plans in any substantive way.

  It would only be safe to speak freely when she was no longer bunking aboard the Spirit. Evantra had a plan to deal with that obstacle, which would fit seamlessly into her training regimen if Guinevere was open to it. But for the moment, they were limited in how freely they could speak.

  “I’ve… I’ve been going to the range with Trevor. He’s still mad at you, by the way.”

  Evantra winced.

  “He found out?”

  “Yep.”

  Then he must know what I’m up to as well. It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together.

  “I’ve talked him down… for the moment.”

  “Thanks—”

  “Evantra?”

  A voice called out to her from outside her bunk room. It was Guinevere, only this time, she was clothed, dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a black blouse to complement it. Having concealed most of her cybenernetic skin beneath… she looked like an ordinary woman.

  Well… an ordinary, menacing woman.

  Huh.

  Even with the nice outfit… she’s still scary as hell.

  The skin on her face was beige, but the rest of her exposed skin was the familiar dark grey, which gradually rolled into an inky black.

  “A couple of us are gathering at the bar. Would you like to join us?”

  Evantra nodded, greeting her with a smile.

  “I’ll be right there.”