A Wolf Among the Sheep

Memories & Metal

The next few months passed by without major incident. Izuku carried over heavy parts, broke them down, and gave her the scraps. They were then melted down into slag, separated based on its metallic components, and made into ingots for later use. She wouldn't ever build the armor proper in front of him. Based on his reactions to heroes and villains, she knew he'd be terrified of the old, deathly visage it held. The Lawbringer in question used to have clear intimidation tactics. He was grandiously... fake. Much like the villains who got arrested in the daylight, or the heroes which fought them.

As she smelted another ingot of steel, she remembered the day just as vividly as the worst day of her life.

The Warborn were merciless. There was nothing left. She had nobody, no-one. The men, the raiders, the berserkers, the Warlords... they left nothing intact. They pillaged food, gold... did unspeakable things to the women they got their hands on... the only reason she remained untouched was because she hid. Through mud and blood and grime. She had crawled past the burning buildings, seeing them... do what they did. A Berserker chasing little Charles, taking his head off with a clean swipe before moving onto the next victim. A Raider made his way with Matilda from down the road.

It was horrific.

Erika felt completely vulnerable. Weak. Afraid.

She hated it. With all her soul.

And not only did she hate her own weakness... she hated the man who condemned her and everyone she knew to this fate. That would not do.

However, before she could get away... a viking soldier had noticed her. With a shout, he charged, eager for whatever he had in mind for her. Either way, it wouldn't be good if he won. Bolting into a house, she searched for some way to defend herself, even if the roof was on fire. Searching, she found... a small knife. Multiuse, designed for cutting, mainly, but could stab if needed. It was rough, and not designed for combat.

The man entered the room, and she hid quickly and quietly. Behind a post, the man started to sweep the area. He didn't see where she went, so he had to take his time. The Viking was taller than her, at a reasonable 5'6". Many of the Warborn's strongest were way taller. Erika herself at the time was at a low 4'2", but still had room to grow. She was only 7 at the time, so plenty of time to grow up. It would be unlikely that she would if she remained in the village...

...but that wasn't important at this time. No, now she had to survive. She listened to his heavy steps, muted and as quiet as could be, in order to try to catch her off guard... but that didn't work. His ears were ringing from the sounds of slaughter and fire. The roar of which deafened him at the current time. There was only one exit... and he stayed near it. If she didn't kill him and went for the exit... he'd chase after her, drawing more attention. And that would get the rest of them after her. The Warborn did take slaves, after all, and that was the worst outcome possible.

However... if she fought him directly, he'd overpower, and either butcher her or do the unthinkable. That was also not an option. He was too well armored for a girl with a small knife. She'd have to aim for his weak spots. Or spot. That being: his neck.

Carefully peering around the pillar, she saw him start to walk into the room. If she stayed still, he would find her. Carefully, utilizing the fact that she was barefoot to minimize the noise, she circled around, approaching in his blind spot, crouching as she did so... before leaping at him, knife in a reverse grip. She didn't know what she was doing, but gripped onto his back, stabbing the blade where his neck should be. Again and again, trying to break through the gambeson he wore underneath. Struggling against her, the man backed into a wall, singing her back with the heat. That made her release him, allowing the man to grab at her, and throw her into the room, away from the wall. The knife clattered to the floor, and he immediately charged her, sword in hand.