Speed/Skill B5C12

"Tie him up," the new man in command ordered. "Bind his arms, his legs and knock him out if you have to. We'll take him back and let the General deal with him. Anders will get his justice. This `Hero` will swing at dawn like the piece of shit he i-" The man's voice failed him. He stared down in shock at the object lodged in his throat, silencing him.

It was a throwing dagger.

A throwing dagger I recognised all too well.

Something blurred past me in a flash of black, brushing my hair aside as it descended on the soldiers. Blake was among them in an instant, drawing the knife from the still-standing man's throat and using it to cut across the eyes of another. She spun around him, drawing on his wrist and leading the man's own sword into the belly of a third, before she kicked them both away and latched onto another, placing her knife against his jugular and tearing it away with a flick, along with a huge chunk of the man's windpipe.

The screams began – and were swiftly silenced. Like a ghost, she moved among them, touching her blades to exposed flesh almost gently, reaching out with surgical precision to cut here, slice there and to caress on occasion. All she graced fell. There had been ten, but that number was cut in half in as many seconds.

A Soldier couldn't hope to stand up against a Hero.

[...]

Two more had died without so much as a blow landed in return. The final three fled for their lives, realising at last what was to happen. Blake's dagger caught the first in the back of the knee, and she was upon the woman before she could even fall, tugging free the knife with one hand and cutting her throat with the other.

One of the Mages, terrified for his life, flung back an arm and cast a great wall of fire in her direction. Blake didn't dodge it; rather, she dashed through it, ignoring the damage and lancing her hand into his chest, puncturing through his ribcage to deliver her blade directly into the heart.

All of it had taken less than ten seconds – and it was only now that I truly realised what was happening before my eyes. "Blake, wait!" I cried weakly. "Stop!"

"Please no, please, I won't say anything, I promise!" the last screamed, running wildly, weapon forgotten.

Blake's body struck his back like a comet. She bowled him down and straddled his body, even as he continued to plead and beg that he wouldn't tell; that no one would find out. One of Blake's hands clamped down on his mouth, silencing him. The other rose, dagger gripped within it.

"BLAKE!" I howled.

The knife slammed down.

The clearing was silent.

Ten, maybe fifteen seconds. That was all it had taken for her to kill ten people – ten soldiers of Mistral, who even without much training were so much stronger than any Labour Caste member. No, killing them was too kind a term. She'd slaughtered them. It was no contest. There wasn't a hair out of place on her head. She hadn't broken a sweat.