As expected dropping into the building had stirred up a proverbial hornet's nest, and Wyth's charge did little to help that. Panic ensued as their group broke into the building and began engaging the slavers, many trying to flee at the sight of Wyth while others grabbed whatever they could to stand their ground. Most never stood a chance. It was clear that many of these men were used to preying on the weak, subduing them somehow and carrying them away, not fighting. Even with her dud leg Nymira was able to dance around the first she encountered with ease; killing the slavers would have been child's play but she tried to abide by the non-lethal approach, causing broken bones and some cuts but nothing that would kill. 

It did not appear however that everyone had gotten that notice. Wyth was killing whoever came close enough to him at the time, as expected of what amounted really to a wild animal. Asta on the other hand seemed to have no issue with slaying the men, doing so in both an elegant and brutal fashion as she sliced one's torso open with a single cut. Yes killing was easier but she was trying to abide by Ethan's wishes not to, as everyone seemed to be. Not quite caring enough to chastise Asta nor thinking it the proper time to regardless Nymira went about her business, confronting a man with a greatsword that had just entered the fray. He appeared to be the one in charge given how others hurried out of his way, and there would be no swifter way to win this skirmish than to kill their leader. That chance wouldn't come just yet however, there were more men to contend with before she might fight him. 

Fending off a man wielding a dagger with little more than a broom handle, hardly ideal. Thankfully his attacker was not terribly practiced and left himself open with his first strike, giving Ethan a chance to wrestle him to the ground and knock away the weapon before trying to get hold of it himself: he'd not use the dagger on the man but having a weapon in hand was reassuring. Grunting as he was punched in the jaw his fingertips just barely tapped the grip, stretching to try and grab hold before stopping as a sickening crunching sound tore away his focus. The man he was grappled with had suddenly let go and was grabbing at his leg, and even from his point he could see bone sticking out from the skin, blood seeping through the fabric of his pants. Wincing in sympathy pain he reached out and grabbed the man's shoulders, slamming him backwards and driving his head into the floor to knock him out. Before he was even able to thank Cecil his friend was on the move, leaving Ethan alone at their breach.

He had to keep moving, if they didn't find Amuné soon then something might happen to her. Scooping up the dagger from the floor Ethan took just a second to take stock of their situation and immediately felt his stomach lurch, his face paling as he saw the fallout of their battle so far. Blood. Blood everywhere, bodies strewn along the ground from various wounds, some doubtless Wyth's doing and others by a blade, all he knew was there were several men dead already. His friends were not among the fallen and for that he was grateful but still... Why so many dead? There had been dead men on the ship and he'd seen people slain before yet neither did any good in relieving the sickness he felt at the sight before him. Trying to push through it his legs numbly moved forward, his head spinning as he closed his eyes in an attempt to shut out the images. "Amuné... Amuné..." he whispered, forcing himself to move quicker as he charged for an open door, "Amuné! We're coming!"

Quite a few of the slavers were having nothing to do with the battle ensuing inside, refusing to join their comrades on the cold ground. Whoever these people were they were trouble, and those animals they brought with them too dangerous to fight. One of the slavers had gone for the front door for his escape, his sword clattering against the ground as it dragged lamely from his hip behind him. As he rounded a corner and found the door he spotted Zander stood before it, gasping and taking a half step back before noticing his weapon. "Y-You... You only have a staff," the slaver commented, a panicked grin stretching across his face as he drew his blade, "Heh... Hehe... What an idiot! Die!" 

Ralthor be damned, where were Ethan and Cecil? Both boys had since fled the room and gone hell knows where, leaving Asta, Myria and Nymira to tidy up the remaining men. Their numbers were dwindling quickly and soon the slavers would be finished and yet they still had no sight of Amuné, they couldn't rest until they found the young Ydran. Watching as another two men entered the room, the Dimuran slicked her tongue and motioned for them to come after her, her eyes darting between the club and the machete they wielded. Short reach like her daggers, if she could just keep out of their striking range she'd be fine. When both men moved on her she took a quick step back on her good leg, ducking as the man with the club nearly took her head off with a mighty swing. Using the heel of her hand she drove it up quickly and into his elbow to break the bone, giving him little reprieve as she kicked at his leg and brought him to a knee, trying to drive it home with a punch to the bridge of his nose. Feeling a powerful set of arms grab her from behind she growled as her own were pinned to her sides, struggling to get out of the man's grasp. With his good arm the man with the club grabbed his weapon and raise it to smash her head in, and being held as firmly as she was there was little room for escape. 

Nymira tried to crane her head to one side to avoid being struck, her eyes reflexively closing as she waited for the incoming blow. Instead she looked up confused when she was dropped, hearing the smack of the club breaking bone yet feeling none of the pain. A quick look back and she saw the man who'd been holding her with an arrow between his shoulder blades, his skull red as blood trickled down his face. Taking advantage of the stunned man she swiped out with her dagger and cut the man's arm to force him to drop it, swinging her dagger up and slicing clean through his throat, ignoring his garbled pleas as he toppled to the ground, his chest painted red. She'd sworn not to kill but had little care now that Ethan wasn't present, hardly wanting to let such a loathsome man live. 

They should move on and try to find Amuné as soon as possible. Even if they wanted to there was no chance it was happening, not with the mountain of a man standing in their way now. With the battle spilling into a larger room there was room for him to swing that massive blade of his, a weapon her daggers stood no chance against head on. Sheathing one dagger she reached out and grabbed a chair, throwing it at the man before chasing after it, hoping to get a slight opening. Seeing him simply knock the chair away she had to drop to her knees and slide as she avoided being cut down, barely turning in time and blocking as he kicked her away into a stack of crates. Of course it wouldn't be so simple.