The shift was immediate, but not chaotic.
Shion moved first.
Not forward. Slightly to the side.
Her hand tightened around the hilt as she stepped across the room, placing herself just enough between Eren and the rest of the space to keep both the doorway and the side room within view. It was a small adjustment, but deliberate.
The blade came free in a low motion.
Too large for the room.
She felt it as soon as the steel cleared. The ceiling was low, the table too close, the walls narrowing every angle. There was no space for a proper swing without hitting wood before anything else.
So she didn't try.
The first man came in from the doorway with confidence, expecting hesitation.
He didn't get it.
Shion stepped into him before he could adjust. The greatsword didn't rise—it drove forward. The pommel struck his jaw with a sharp crack, snapping his head back. Before he could drop, she shifted her grip and forced the blade across his midsection in a tight, controlled cut.
He went down.
Behind her, Eren moved.
Not as fast, but not frozen either.
The second attacker came from the side room, his blade already angled toward Shion's back.
Eren intercepted him.
Steel met steel with a clean, practiced deflection. Not elegant, but direct. The kind of movement drilled into guards until it stopped being thought and became reaction.
The man pulled back slightly, surprised.
Eren didn't rush him.
There was a brief delay—just enough to think, to adjust. Then she stepped in again, correcting her stance, shifting the angle the way Shion had shown her. Her next strike was cleaner.
Still not perfect.
But enough to force him back.
Movement flickered near the hearth.
Shion caught it in the shifting light before she heard the voice. A low mutter, focused.
The fire changed.
The pot above it rattled as the heat surged unnaturally, pulling inward before flaring outward in a sudden burst.
Shion turned.
Too little space.
She couldn't swing.
So she drove her foot forward instead.
The table splintered as she kicked it across the room, sending it crashing into the figure by the fire. It broke his stance, disrupted whatever he was shaping. The flame burst outward anyway, uncontrolled, catching cloth along the wall.
Smoke began to rise.
The man by the window hadn't moved.
He was watching.
Eren pressed her opponent again, this time without hesitation. Her blade caught his shoulder—not deep, but enough. He staggered, tried to recover—
She leaned too far forward.
Her footing slipped just enough.
For a moment, her guard opened.
Shion saw it.
Moved.
The greatsword shifted into the path of the incoming strike, catching it along the flat. The impact carried through her arms, heavier than it should have been in such a tight space, but it held.
Eren stepped back on instinct.
A fraction too far.
A fraction too aware.
Then she corrected it, almost sharply, stepping back into range as if refusing the hesitation.
"Left," Shion said, low.
Eren moved with it.
The man shifted toward Shion instead.
Wrong choice.
Eren's blade came across his side, deeper this time. He folded where he stood.
Behind them, the fire surged again.
The man by the hearth had recovered, hands extended, drawing heat into something more focused. Not refined. Forced. But in a room like this, it didn't need to be precise.
Shion exhaled once, steady.
Then stepped toward him.
Not the flame.
The man.
She closed the distance before the shape of it could settle. This time the blade had space—barely, but enough. It rose just short of the ceiling and came down at an angle, breaking through his guard and driving him back into the hearth.
The fire flared, then collapsed.
Smoke thickened, filling the room faster now.
Behind them, there was more movement.
Not rushed. Still controlled.
The man by the window tilted his head slightly, watching, measuring.
Shion adjusted her stance, lowering the blade again, her breathing steady despite the heat building around them.
"Door," she said.
Eren nodded.
This time, there was no hesitation.