Page 50 of Mercy Written in Blood

Behind Haruki, the attackers began spreading accelerant across the fallen manuscripts. The smell reached him — sharp, chemical, final. Haruki looked towards the breach. The tunnel beyond appeared empty. Ken might still be alive. His peoplemight be holding the checkpoints, unaware that their radios had been cut. Or the attackers might already have reached them.

The thought nearly pulled Haruki towards the entrance. He stopped himself. Running into the tunnel would save no one in the chamber. He had people here. That was enough. It had to be.

"Try the red centre," he said.

Minamoto looked back.

"What?"

"The petals are white. The centre is red."

The professor pressed his palm against the faded red pigment. A deep click sounded inside the wall. Stone shifted. Dust poured from the mural as a narrow section moved inward. Cold air swept into the chamber.

Takeda stared into the darkness beyond.

"A passage."

"Take her," Haruki said.

Minamoto looked at him.

"You too."

"I'll follow."

The lie was poor. Minamoto recognised it immediately.

"No."

Haruki pointed towards the hidden opening.

"Get her out."

"There may be another exit."

"Then find it."

The leader moved. Haruki saw the shift in posture — a decision had been made. Two attackers broke towards the mural. Haruki grabbed the nearest portable lamp and threw it. The heavy metal base struck one attacker in the face; the mask cracked, the figure staggered. Haruki met the second halfway, caught the attacker'sknife arm and drove his forehead into the mask. Pain exploded across his skull. The attacker barely reacted. Haruki hooked one leg behind theirs and forced them to the ground.

A blade passed across his back. He felt cloth tear. Then skin. Heat spread between his shoulders. He turned and struck blindly. His fist connected with a throat. Someone hissed.

"Go," he shouted.

Minamoto pulled Takeda into the passage. She resisted.

"Haruki!"

"Go."

The leader crossed the chamber. Not quickly. There was no need. Haruki seized a broken length of timber from the floor and swung it across the nearest attacker's knees. Bone gave beneath the impact. The figure fell. Haruki brought the timber down across the mask once — a crack — twice. The mask split. Beneath it was a young man's face. Too young. Perhaps twenty. His eyes were open and utterly calm. No hatred. No pleasure. Only purpose.

"You don't know what you're protecting," he said.

The words were barely audible. Haruki tightened his grip on the timber.

"I know who I'm protecting."

He struck again. The young man stopped moving.