She didn’t stand. Instead, she clapped twice.

“What about you?”

Guts turned away.

And in the darkness between worlds, the beast inside Guts opened its red eyes and laughed.

Guts sheathed the Dragonslayer across his back. Drew a smaller blade from his belt. And in one motion, without looking, hurled it past her head—into the beam above the throne.

“That village three miles east. Still standing?”

The Dragonslayer came off his shoulder in a smooth, terrible arc. “Come take it.”

The countess rose, her form beginning to twist, flesh bubbling into chitin. “I think you’ll hesitate. And hesitation is a wound I can open.”

The small elf fluttered from behind his cloak, where he’d been hiding from the wind. “Yeah, boss?”