Twelve. There had been exactly twelve more individuals within the train, aside from the two he'd first defeated. Caspian had been forced to fight fourteen people altogether, all of whom appeared to have been simple commoners and not bandits of any kind. Most of them had been wielding daggers, but several had used more esoteric killing devices. One of them even had a spiked flail, which had taken some tricky work to defeat, especially since he'd been forced to protect civilians during that fight along with himself.

Caspian had learned early on that none of these people would respond to his attempts at talking some sense into them. They didn't talk, and they didn't respond when spoken to. While it was scary to think about, all of these individuals reminded him of the automatons he'd seen in the Temarian province. They were lifeless, robots composed of flesh and blood instead of metal and Spirit Crystals. It was as if their minds had been shattered, their free will taken away, like they'd become mindless slaves whose sole purpose was to fight.

Caspian was left with no other recourse but to fight back.

It had taken him a lot of time and effort to battle his way through all those people. He'd been forced to travel from one side of the train to the other, fighting all the while. It was tough work, made all the more difficult by the fact that he didn't have any time to rest in between each fight. He couldn't afford to. Not if he wanted to rescue all of the civilians before they were injured, or worse, killed. Fortunately, Caspian had reached the back of the train and was on what he hoped would be his last battle.

There had been another person with his current opponent. It seemed these people worked in pairs. However, Caspian had learned from experience—very recent and slightly painful experience—and managed to take out the first one with a surprise attack before they were aware of his presence. That left just this guy, or girl, to deal with.

The individual he was locked in combat with swung at him several times, their blades slicing through the air with speed akin to a buzzsaw, each weapon appearing before him in a flash of light and polished steel. Every slice, slash and thrust was aimed at one of Caspian's vital points: neck, clavicle, between the ribs... this person had a very methodical way of fighting. It was enough to make him wonder how these people, farmers and peasants, were capable of such impressive martial feats. It was almost like magic, some kind of spell, had granted them inhuman abilities.

But that shouldn't be possible unless...

Caspian could think no more as the deadly dance continued. Each attack sent his way missed, or was redirected with his sword. Against someone who dual-wielded shorter, faster blades, he'd gone for a minimalist approach, moving his sword only enough for his blade to meet those of his enemy. This allowed him to block attacks more easily, as he only needed to move it slightly to avoid being skewered.

Sweat trickled down Caspian's brow as he tilted his weapon at an angle. Sparks flew as dirk met broadsword, with the smaller weapon sliding off with a shriek of grinding steel. This did not deter Caspian's attacker, who simply spun 180-degrees and attacked from the other side, their other dirk flashing out in a swift thrust.

Twisting his body and taking a single step to the right, Caspian avoided the thrust that would have impaled him through the chest. He brought his blade up at the same time to parry the attack, arcing both sword and dirk over his head, hopefully removing his opponent's ability to counterattack, and striking at his opponent's left leg with a swift low kick.

His enemy's tanned cloak whipped about them as they leapt backwards. Growling, Caspian renewed his assault, taking the fight to his enemy with a string of attack combinations. His sword moved in a continuous flow, a never ending stream of constant movement. Over and over again his blade flashed out like bolts of lightning striking the ground. Yet despite the speed and ferocity of his slashes, the one fighting him proved themselves to be capable of incredible evasive maneuvers, contorting their body like a snake to sway around his attacks while their blades danced across his, deflecting his weapon like he'd done earlier.

They broke away when Caspian realized his attacks weren't working. He moved back a single step, his sword tilting to block the dirk in his opponent's left hand, then spinning counterclockwise to force the blade away while simultaneously knocking aside the dirk in his enemy's right hand.

Using some seriously fancy footwork, Caspian deftly swerved around a swift double thrust. His attacker favored dual wielding. With two dirks in hand, the man or woman launched a series of lightning quick strikes at him, the twin blades glinting in the light. Caspian weathered the storm, redirecting attacks when he could and dodging them when he couldn't. Constant movement. A continuous dance. A deadly game. Sparks flew and swords flashed as he and his opponent fought.

After defending himself from another onslaught of numerous thrusts, Caspian decided it was time he stepped the fight up a notch. He moved into his opponent's guard after pushing an attack away with his left hand, then sidestepped a vicious thrust, allowing the dirk to cut a small nick in his clothes. His blade arm came up, swinging at the figure with a slash meant to slice into the person from left hip to right shoulder. The attack was dodged when the cloaked figure backpedaled.

Well, that was just fine with Caspian. They could back up all they wanted. It wouldn't change the outcome of this fight, which had been decided the moment he took out their partner.

Letting go of his blade at the apex of his swing, the sword flew through the air and became embedded into the ceiling. He then rushed forward, pushing down on his opponent's wrists after they tried thrusting both dirks at him, making them stumble while also leaping into the air above their arms at the same time.

Caspian swiftly grabbed a hold of his opponent's hooded head, his hands gripping the person's skull near their temples. Using a combination of his forward momentum and physical strength, he smashed his knee into the cloaked figure's face while simultaneously yanking their face into his knee.

As blood shot from within the darkness of the hood, staining his cloth covered knee crimson, he let go of the figure, allowing their head to snap back, their spine curving along with the hit. Even then, Caspian didn't let up. Leaping forward, he extended his left leg and allowed it to fall on his foe's head. The resounding crack! rang out loud enough that even Caspian winced, and his enemy swiftly crumpled to the ground, insensate to the world around them.

"Ha..."

Releasing a large gust of air, Caspian slowly stood to his full height. Reaching up, his hand wrapped around the handle of his sword, which he pulled out of the ceiling and slid back into its sheath.

When the click of his sword being fully sheathed was heard, he took a moment to stretch his limbs, testing them to make sure they were all in working order. Fighting twelve people for over an hour was tiring work. His limbs were stiff, like they'd undergone rigor mortis, and several cuts marred his skin. Nothing too serious, he decided, but he'd probably want to disinfect them at least. No sense in being reckless.

He was also tired. He'd really underestimated how difficult taking on so many enemies would be. However, as he looked at the people in the car, all of whom gaped at him in shock, Caspian decided the hardship was worth it. These people were alive and unharmed, which was all he could ask for.

"Is everyone alright?" he asked.

Nobody spoke for a moment. Caspian frowned when he realized everyone was gawking at him. After several seconds of silence, one of the people, an old man with a bald top and white sideburns, spoke up. "W-we're fine..."

The words snapped the others out of their trance, and soon, everybody was making comments.

"You saved us!"

"You're a hero!"

"Thank you!"

Caspian listened as the people suddenly began heaping praises upon him, eyes wide and his cheeks gaining color. Had anyone ever thanked him? No. In all the time he'd been alive, no one had thanked him, and yet these people were doing so now, and in such jubilant tones!

Caspian covered his face so no one could see him blush.

"Ah, um, y-you're welcome," he mumbled. Dang it! Why did he feel so shy now? He wanted to crawl back into his train car and never leave!

It took nearly five minutes to leave. Everyone wanted to thank him, it seemed, which embarrassed Caspian to no end. He eventually exited the train car and began making his way back to his own compartment.

As he walked, Caspian finally realized how tired he truly was. He felt ragged and worn. Frayed. Exhaustion seeped into his bones, making them reminiscent of brittle twigs. Each step he took jarred his body upon impact with the floor, and Caspian knew that some of his more acrobatic maneuvers had damaged his knees. By the Spirits, he'd never wanted to curl up and fall asleep as much as he did right now.

Hopefully, Karma would be kind to him and let him get some shut eye now that the threat had passed.

As if the very fates were against the idea of him getting any rest, a loud explosion from somewhere outside washed over him with concussive force, like the mighty shockwave of a powerful spirit summoned by using a five verse aria. The train rumbled and shook like it was about to fall off the tracks and onto its side. Screams from civilians sounded out from passing compartments as the train was tossed about like a small dingy trapped within a hurricane. Caspian gritted his teeth as his bones were rattled and he was sent to the floor. When the shaking died down, Caspian stood back up, ignoring the way his body protested the action.

He wore a very large scowl.

"By the spirits! Can this day get any worse?!"

Rushing toward the nearest window, Caspian ignored the screams from the many civilians inside their compartments. There was no enemy to defeat, so he couldn't do anything for them except locate the source of that strange shaking.

As he leapt out the window, Caspian only had one thought on his mind.

This is just not my day.