They were ready to go, but Makoto began reviewing the previous fight in her mind. She realized she was lucky. Lucky that she sensed the ambush from behind them; Lucky that she ducked at just the right moment; and lucky that Ryuji had noticed her dilemma before that final sword thrust had fallen. She'd been saved again. Another man protecting her from death. Makoto felt her cheeks heat up slightly.

Ren had saved her life. That felt… good. But now that Ryuji had to do it, too? It felt a little... embarrassing! But she absolutely could not cheapen the act with such strange, petty feelings!

Makoto turned to Ryuji, who looked slightly pale in the lantern light, a sheen of sweat on his forehead. But his eyes focused on Makoto's gaze, alert as he breathed a bit heavily. That lightning blast had taken a bit out of him.

"Ryuji," said Makoto, "Thank you."

Ryuji grinned, energy returning to his face. "No problem. Just returning the favor."

"Returning the favor?" said Makoto.

Ryuji blinked in surprise. "Well, yeah. If you and Ren hadn't come after Kamoshida. I'd be dead. Ann, too."

Makoto's mind stalled a moment, confused at what she'd heard. Ryuji thinks she was responsible for saving his life? For saving Ann's life? But that had all been Ren's doing...

Ryuji continued: "But you should thank Yusuke. If he hadn't tapped my shoulder…"

Surprise jolted through Makoto. "Yusuke!" she said aloud, a tone of disbelief in her voice. In all the chaos of battle and then plans of next steps, she'd managed to forget about him entirely!

Ryuji laughed at something in Makoto's expression. "Yeah, I forgot he was even here. I almost chopped him with my sword when he tapped me on the shoulder."

"Yusuke," said Ann, "Come join us. I think Ms. Niijima wants to talk to you."

And turned for torso towards the far corner of the room, her lantern illuminating their thin rescue, his face slightly wan and dazed. The young man was very good at standing still. Makoto realized Yusuke had been in her field of vision for the last few minutes and she'd not noticed him in the darkness.

"Ms. Niijima," said Yusuke, stepping out of his corner and into the light of the lanterns. His eyes were locked on Makoto's as he walked towards her, but his gaze shifted to Ann as he passed her, but he didn't break his dreamy gait. Once past Ann, his intense gaze returned to Makoto.

Yusuke was a bit taller than Makoto. About Ren's height, if she was guessing. Makoto had to raise her chin a bit to give him an even look. The strange focus in the man's eyes made her slightly uneasy.

"Ms. Niijima," said Yusuke, a sort of tortured, panicked expression came over his face, but his voice remained light and calm, "I think now that you can get me out of here. Please get me out of here. Please get me out."

Makoto's mouth opened and froze there, unsure of what to say in the face of such desperate sincerity. She looked briefly at Ryuji, who seemed perplexed, and Ann, who looked somewhat sad and concerned, the same look she'd had for her injured friend, Shiho.

Makoto looked back into Yusuke's eyes, which for the first time, looked like they were entirely alert to the world before them. How long had this young man been trapped here? And why? Makoto had no idea. But no one should endure such an existence. And Yusuke had helped save her life, or so Ryuji said. She owed him. But request or not, life-debt or not, Makoto would never have considered doing anything other than freeing Yusuke and anyone else trapped here. So, there wasn't anything else to say but:

"I promise you, Yusuke," said Makoto, "We'll get you out of here."

The young man sighed, his eyes closing in evident relief. But when they reopened, they'd regained some of their dreamy qualities. "Thank you…"

"Hey," hissed Ann, "Did you guys hear that? I think something is coming this way!"

The clang of steel and its ringing aftermath filled Ren's ears, the angry vibration of his sword warmed his palm. Atsushi seemed content to barrage Ren with heavy chops towards his chest, like Atushi was a blacksmith and Ren the anvil. The attacks came too heavy, too fast, and too middling-height to safely duck or jump- so Ren found himself desperately moving his blades to block one attack after the other, stepping backward to ease the stress of the blow upon his arms (when he could), skidding backward from the force of Atsushi's strength (when he couldn't).

Ren's pistol, empty and abandoned somewhere in the darkness, was replaced with the long-dagger sword-breaker, but Ren could do little with it but assist his sword arm in staying off death. In brief moments of ingenuity between Atsushi's heavy chops, Ren toyed with the idea of a lunging stab. Atsushi was leaving himself wide-open every time he twisted up his body for his next big chopping swing. But Ren's instincts told him it was a trap: a great way to get himself truncated.

Supposedly, human sword theory relied on the thrust as the killing blow, but vampires were significantly more resilient; thrusts bought time, but a severing slice to neck was the only real finisher. So, Ren could lunge, he could stab his sword deep into Atsushi's beefy torso, but outside a direct hit on the spine or brain, Atsushi's body would simply serve as a sword trap and the big man would kill him. Not to mention Atsushi's empty left hand which could snag Ren's blade out of the air. So with ringing clash after ringing clash, Ren was forced backward. If he didn't figure something out, his back would be against the wall and-

Oh! That could work!

Ren started angling left in his retreats, taking slightly larger steps away from each of Atushi's attacks, declining to stand his ground and so give the taller and more leveraged Atsushi a point of resistance to overpower. Block and fade. Block and fade. Until his left shoulder brushed stone. Atushshi, focused on Ren, swung yet another big right chop.

CLANG!

Enroute to Ren's face, Atsushi's sword tip deflected off the stone wall at his right hand, the weapon twisted oddly in his palm. Ren lunged forward, plunging his sword deep into the center of Atushi's chest.

"Urk," said Atsushi.

Ren wrenched his sword back, black liquid streaming along its length. Then Atsushi's sweaty palm smashed into Ren's nose, flinging his head back and sending a pulse of red through Ren's vision. Atsushi's damn left arm! But Ren's blade was free, and non-fatal or no, getting run-through was not consequence free. Ren was sure Atsushi would-

Ren's eyes caught a flash of silver. A thrust! Ren took a step to the right, away from the wall, withdrawing his left shoulder back and away from the Atsushi's advancing blade, his left hand used the sword-breaker to swat Atsushi's thrust even further left, while Ren' right arm followed through the turn with his own sword, cutting deeply into Atsushi's left side as the man's momentum carried him forward towards Ren.

But now Ren knew his own gut was wide open to Atsushi's returning chop. It was time to use his last trump card. He opened his left hand, letting his sword-breaker drop, angling his now-empty left palm at Atsushi's upper body from under his own sword arm.

Now, Morgana!

"Zorro!"

Atsushi was just beginning to unwind his big-bodied counter-attack when a galeforce wind blasted into his upper body, shoving his back into the nearby stone wall, pulling open his stance. There was just enough time for surprise and confusion to appear on Atsushi's face before Ren's own back-slash cut through the vampire's corded neck.

The head bounced skyward in sudden freedom, then tumbled to the stone floor, striking wetly and rolling. Meanwhile: legs gone instantly slack, Atsushi's corpse fell downward, ass-first; its back skidding down the stone wall, gushing blood from its ragged neck; limp legs awkwardly skewing apart. It sat for a moment, spread-legged, back against the wall like some stupefied drunkard; then the entire torso slowly teetered and collapsed sideways to the floor.

*I'd say that went great!* said Morgana.

Relief washed through Ren as he bent over, hands on knees, drawing in ragged breaths, his heartbeat thundering in the dark silence of the stone chamber. He'd never faced an opponent so mindlessly focused on fundamental advantage: Atsushi knew he was stronger, so he'd mercilessly beat away at Ren with his strength. And to Ren's embarrassment, the non-strategy had nearly worked. There had been alarmingly few openings for counter-attack.

Ren rubbed a gloved hand under his nose and found blood on his fingers, a tender examination revealed his nose was certainly crooked, and worst of all, already healing. If he waited any longer, it would be a difficult fix. Ren sheathed his sword, traced the bridge line of his nose, found the break, took a deep breath:

...crunch...

A hot knife of pain stabbed up into the center of Ren's skull, red again flashed around the edges of his vision. Teeth gritted, stuffing a groan, he held his nose tightly for several minutes as the pain receded. It would take some of the hour for the bone to knit, assuming it wasn't just broken cartilage, but he could probably let go after a few minutes and rely on the immediate healing to at least hold everything in the right place.

Eyes glistening slightly from involuntary tears, Ren searched the floor for his sword-breaker, his empty pistol (which he took a few moments to reload the clip), and Atsushi's head. He certainly didn't want to leave the head in the same room as the body, and he could probably get a bonus from Makoto for the extra kill. The noble's long hair made a convenient handle, and Ren found he could tie the head to his belt and let it dangle from the hip. Sure, it dripped blood on his leggings, and it bumped against his thigh as he walked- but it allowed him to carry the trophy without using one of his hands.

A final inspection of Atsushi's corpse found only empty pockets. The man's sword was well-made and ornate, but it was common steel. Ren left the weapon next to its former master and headed for the chamber's single exit. A cursory examination found no evident booby-traps, just a normal open door. Atsushi must have been very confident Ren wouldn't get past him and out of the room.

Ren stepped cautiously into a stone hallway. His darkvision revealed a dead end in one direction, and in the other, a long passage with doors at regular intervals. Some doors were closed, some stood open. He walked quietly forward, glancing cautiously through open doors as he passed them. Most seemed to be unused rooms. One looked like some sort of beast had lived inside, a nameless filth covered the floor, a pungent sourness in the air.

Ghouls. Ren recognized the smell immediately. So, Madarame was keeping a ghoul kennel, too. Inside the walls of a human city! It was audacious, but with a dungeon like this, apparently possible.

When a noble vampire over-indulged on a human, the victim would become a ghoul. But that outcome was rare, as most nobles recognized the.. reusability of a living human and would endeavor to keep them alive for multiple feedings. More commonly, ghouls were inadvertently created when a feeding revenant killed its human meal. The dead victim becomes a ghoul.

It was a sort of latent transformative power passed from noble vampire to their revenant, but as a side-effect rather than a desirable ability. Ren knew from experience: ghouls were absolute pests. They were hard to control, ravenous, destructive, ugly, and they stank. It also took forever for them to die naturally, some thousands of years, as far as Ren understood it. His knowledge was spotty, but if anyone had ever studied the creatures, that knowledge must have perished with the old Empire because Mother's library held no books about ghouls.

But what Ren did know for sure was that one could decapitate the corpse of a revenant's human victim before they rose as a ghoul in the first place. But revenants, trapped and tapped to their creator's will, generally lacked the forethought to dismember their victims, and noble vampires rarely spared the attention to make sure their minions were tidy eaters. So: a noble needed the minions, and the minions needed to eat; but, a noble like Madarame couldn't afford the general uproar a loose ghoul would cause in the city streets. So, what else to do but toss expired humans into a cell and lock the door?

But then, why was this door open? Why would Madarame want a pack of ghouls running free through his own basement? Ghouls wouldn't feed on vampires, but they might attack them if the ghouls were in an excited state. It would be nearly impossible for a pack of ghouls to kill a noble who wasn't tied up, and even then, the ghouls would have to accidentally rip the vampire's head off. But, Madarame probably wouldn't want some slavering beast biting his face, regardless of whether it was truly dangerous to him or not. And unlike himself, Madarame's own revenants could be brought down by rampaging ghouls, which would be a waste of resources….

But perhaps there were intruders in the basement. In such a situation, a pack of ghouls could turn from quarantined liability to guard dogs with the simple act of throwing open a cell door and getting out of the way…

Makoto and the Sakamotos! They must be down here somewhere, too. The ghouls had been loosed to attack them!

Ren strode off down the hallway, following the sour musk of ghouls. He moved quickly, but kept his eyes moving, worried he may miss a booby-trap or perhaps the passage out of these dungeons. He was slightly concerned, but he was sure Makoto could handle ghouls, and she could get the Sakamoto's through it.

Then again. Makoto couldn't see down here. Fighting a ghoul in the open under moonlight was one thing. Fighting a ghoul in a dark, cramped dungeon?

Ren broke into a run.

He sprinted down stone halls, following the scent of ghouls, hesitating only briefly at connecting passages which only smelled of stale air. He didn't hear any sounds of combat, which could be a very bad sign. Then he caught another scent, much more pleasant than ghoul.

And he heard a soft voice say: "...something is coming this way!"

Definitely Ann Sakamoto's voice. Ren turned a corner and saw lantern light flickering against the stone wall at the next turn in the passage. He'd found them. Ren slowed his pace, remembering at the last moment that his allies were armed and likely to shoot anything coming around a blind corner. He stopped just before a sharp turn in the passage, the smell of ghoul and human female mixing cloyingly in the air.

"It's me," Ren called out. "Don't shoot!"

A short pause.

"Mr. Amamiya?!"

Ren turned the corner slowly, his hands up in mock surrender. Two hip-lanterns cast the Sakamoto's in shadowed relief, they were aiming their guns at him, but they dropped immediately in relief. Behind them, her jaw tight, Niijima Makoto lowered her hand cannon and took a deep breath, her crimson eyes closing in evident relief.

"Ren!"