Maleek looked the woman over. She was indeed Imurian, but he couldn’t be sure her claim that the boy was her child was true. If he was just a normal kid he wouldn’t have worried that the woman was lying, but what he had just seen him do casted doubts in his mind. Since there was no way of knowing if it was the truth, he wasn’t going to start interrogating the woman after what she just experienced, he opted to wait for the kid to wake up.

“He’s your son is he? Good. He seems to have passed out.”

“What’s wrong? Is he okay?” The woman looked visibly shaken.

Maleek tried to console her, “Don’t worry Mrs. He is alive, just unconscious. When everything is a bit more settled, I can get him to a healer.”

The woman looked at him deeply concerned, “A healer?”

Healers were malsirs that could use sahir to regenerate parts, sometimes large sometimes small, of the body. There were not many of them, their practice took decades to learn talkless of master. They were a wholly different type of malsir. So much so, that most people didn’t consider them malsirs at all. They had little to no understanding of how to project sahir outward. That meant that they struggled creating barriers, the bare minimum expected of a malsir. Instead, their powers laid in controlling internal sahir.

Everything in the world was made up of sahir. Humans, beasts, animals, rocks; they all contained sahir. It was theorized that the world itself was formed from sahir. That sahir was what governed the world’s laws and through controlling sahir one could control the world itself. It was a theory that matched up very well with the stories of how powerful malsirs were once able to dominate whole continents by themselves. Healers, and malsirs like them, only served to validate that theory further.

A healer didn’t heal with their own sahir, they healed with their patient’s. Taking control of their patient’s internal sahir, they could rebuild any part of the body as long as they had the knowhow and the patient had the reserves. For as easy as it sounded, it was a profession that took years and years and years to learn properly. As such, it cost a fortune. A good healer would charge no less than a dir for their services. Meaning that unless you were exceptionally wealthy, you would only see a healer when it was dire.

————-

Nyle leapt onto a roof. The higher vantage point would give him a better view of where the bandit’s captain might have run off to. He was hopping from roof to roof when a blue glow creeped into his peripheral.

Caught up already?

He stopped jumping and stood. He hadn’t found any clues about the captain, so he decided to handle Olin first. Considering his speed, even if Nyle found the captain he would have to fight the malsir all the same.

It wasn’t long before the Olin got the idea and lept on top of the roof to face Nyle.

Nyle looked him in the eye and pulled his blades out. “As a matter of principle, I’ll give you the opportunity to surrender now.”

Olin didn’t respond. He just stared back into Nyle’s eyes, katana already drawn.

“Suit yourself.”

Nyle lunged at him, slashing inward with his two blades. It was a similar move to the one he used to distract Olin during their first encounter, but much faster. This time, Olin didn’t retreat. Instead he jumped in the air. Pulling his katana back, he quickly thrusted it downward at Nyle’s head. Nyle jerked his head sharply to the side. Dodging the blade, he kicked off the ground immediately after. His feet slammed into Olin’s arm then chest as he did a backflip. Olin managed to keep his blade tightly held, but before he could fully orientate himself after he landed Nyle slashing at him again. This time from above. Olin hastily blocked the attack, but the force behind it was far more than he expected. He felt like his katana suddenly weighed as much as a machtig. The roof creaked underneath his feet. He was beginning to feel pinned down, his arms were begging for release. Thankfully, Nyle was considerate. He kicked Olin in the gut, sending him flying into another roof.

Nyle was rather impressed with Olin, he hadn’t expected him to be able to withstand his attack. It wasn’t his full strength, but he still put a considerable amount of force behind it. He hadn't fought many people outside of the guilds that could withstand the strength of his attacks. Wondering how Olin took the kick, he looked over at the hole in the roof across from him. His barrier didn't look thick enough to take too many hits of that strength.

Nyle was right, but that wouldn’t stop Olin. Jumping from the other building to Nyle in one leap, he brought his blade down forcefully. Nyle crossed his swords above him to block the assault. The roof quickly crumbled underneath him. The force of the attack proved too much for it. Both falling, Nyle slashed at the Olin's chest with his right sword. Olin blocked it with his, quite easily. Unfortunately, he was in midair. With no stable foundation, the power behind the slash altered his trajectory.

Nyle landed on his feet while Olin smashed into one of the inner walls. He noticed the Olin's barrier was getting fainter. Not giving him time to recover, Nyle kicked him through the wall. Having put quite a bit of force into the kick, he flew threw two walls and rolled onto the street. To his credit, he quickly, if a bit wobbly, got onto his feet.

Neia and Arleigh, having been looking for the action, saw him and immediately attacked. Arleigh reached him first. She began her assault with a flurry of slashes. The man blocked each one and kicked her in the gut. Neia caught her as she flew backwards. Not wasting any time, she tossed her back at him. Arleigh didn’t seem to mind, beginning her flurry anew. She then thrusted. The man parried the attack upwards. Before he could counterattack, Arleigh used her left hand to pull out a short sword in a backhand grip. Slicing the man's chest, he could see his barrier and leather armor being cut through. He stepped back, blood slowly dripping from his chest. Not having the time to take a breather, a greatsword hurled towards his head. Frantically jumping back, he stumbled to the floor.

Nyle, who was standing on the roof he had previously kicked the man on to, yelled in their direction, “Finish him off quickly! We need to find his captain.”

—————

Hoping his captain had gotten away, Olin stood up and steeled himself to take one of the warriors with him. The smaller one attacked again, while the big one was removing her sword from the ground.

I can’t get hit by that.

He was running low on sahir, very low. If he stopped coating his sword with it he might have been able to strengthen his barrier and take a few hits, but then he’d had no way of attacking. Parrying another one of the smaller ones attacks, he kicked her knee to prevent her from repeating her little trick. It proved to be a mistake, even though she buckled because of the hit she managed to stab his outstretched leg. The pain stung but he had experienced worse, very recently too. Having no time to reminisce, she thrusted her main sword towards his chest. Dodging the blade outright, he lunged into her. Even though his surprise attack knocked her down, her friend came in swinging before he could do anything else.

Tsk.

He jumped back a reasonable distance, the pain making it hard to move as he wished, and waited for their assault.

“You’ve got quite the legs on you bandit.”

The bigger one seemed to be trying to distract him. He ignored her, making sure he was prepared for whatever trick they were going to throw at him. After a moment, something felt off to him, the smaller one had gotten up but neither of them moved to charge him. Their lack of aggression unsettled him until…

Krck!

He jumped back and a bullet flew by where his head used to be. Not just any bullet, a bullet radiating sahir. The ability to attach sahir directly to an object was something he had only witnessed twice. It was something only highly skilled malsirs could do. As Olin’s mind was preoccupied with the spectacle in front of him. A broad sword causally found its way into his shoulder.

“Ahhhh!”

Screaming aloud, he inadvertently let go of his sword. They both fell to the floor, the glow of sahir vanishing.

Damnit. Couldn’t even take one with me.

Nyle slapped Olin’s face a couple times, “You’re not going to die yet Mr. Swordsman. I have a feeling you know where your captain’s hiding.”