Gabriel's back hit the ground, but the barrage of bolas did not cease. Three more throwing weapons flew his way, out of which two he managed to cut in halves.

The third bola flew far above him.

"Was that a miss?" Gabriel observed with rising confidence as the bola flew away.

A cocky smile grew on his face. As he regained his sense of balance, he stood up and aimed his rapier at the green-haired man.

"Faxon, was it? I sense your creators preferred hair over precision!"

Faxon raised an eyebrow at first, then chuckled as he realized Gabriel's misconception.

"Me? Oh please! I would never throw my balls at another man!"

Gabriel tightened his grip on the sword. True was, that he did not see any weapon neither by Faxon nor Terry, but then who was throwing the bolas?

There was only one answer to that. A third opponent was present, having yet to reveal himself.

And that revelation came fast. Faxon leaned out of the way and the outlines of an invisible man appeared behind him. His shape could barely be made out, besides his two red eyes that shone with malicious intent.

A pair of bolas swung in his hand at a rapid speed, and suddenly, he let go of them.

"!!!" Gabriel's eyes lit up as the two bolas flew straight towards him. Swiftly raising his rapier, he successfully cut apart both ropes.

Though the attack did not leave him unharmed. One of the heavy balls from the bola flew straight at him, bashing into his stomach.

"Kahh!" The air shot out of Gabriel's lungs as the ball buried deep into his core.

As much as it did hurt, that was not the worst part. Getting hit so hard left him not just staggered, but at an incredible disadvantage:

As much as he tried, he could not breathe.

"Gabriel!" Naomi screamed his name.

He stood just a few feet apart, unable to help in any way. He was too scared both by the men before him and by the thought of having to hurt a human.

But the worst was yet to come.

The sound of a flying object rose behind the two. Gabriel turned his head to see what it was, and with that, he was already too late to dodge the attack.

It was the pair of bolas that seemingly missed him before, returning to the battle like a trusty boomerang. The weapon struck through the air, hitting Gabriel in the neck and wrapping neatly around his throat, just like a tight little noose.

Gabriel fought for air, but the bola’s deadly grasp did not allow that. Nothing came neither in nor out of his throat, no matter his attempts.

He tried to cut the rope with his rapier, but he was too staggered to aim correctly. His attempts resulted in nothing more than just a bunch of stab wounds under his neck.

Naomi rushed to aid and tried to tear off the bolas. But once again, he was too weak to help in any way.

"Come off, god damnit!" He yelled out of desperation, fighting the rope but to no avail.

His vision became blurry from tears. He was useless, pathetically useless, much like always before.

"Should I run?"

For a moment, the thought ran through his mind.

This would have been the safest thing to do. Gabriel chose to continue this fight willingly, and when he tried to talk him down, Gabriel stubbornly refused.

This was the safest option. By all means, this would have saved him the most pain. And yet…

"No!" He shook the thought out of his head. "I'm not giving up on a friend!"

Mustering up his remaining power, Naomi threw Gabriel onto his shoulder, considerably slowing himself. He turned towards the exit to the alley and like a desperate rabbit, broke forth and ran.

Unfortunately, the hefty weight he carried left his opponents with plenty of time to react.

As he was about to turn the corner and rush into the streets, the ground before him burst open and a tall wall of hair obstructed his path. Naomi recoiled at first, seeing the uncanny occurrence, but his determination proved stronger than his fears. Gritting his teeth, he charged at the thick wall of hair.

To answer this try, a thick lock of hair struck him down like an angry whip.

Ka-PSSSH!

The attack was so powerful, that it sent both flying away like a pair of stickmen. Naomi hit his back against the wall and Gabriel landed back on the cold pavement.

Despite the tight rope around his neck denying him the passage of air, Gabriel still desperately clung to his consciousness. As his body landed back on the ground, his eyes turned towards the sky and something peculiar came into his view.

It was a cloud that resembled a human. Though it had no facial features, it seemed to look at Gabriel, almost as if observing him.

Gazing at the cloud more, Gabriel felt an uncanny deja vu. His eyes widened as he remembered where that shape appeared before.

"Wait... It's the same cloud as the one from the burning forest!"

The cloud moved. It rested its head on one of its hands like some sort of bored god spying on one of its many minions.

It looked like this time that deity, or whatever it was, did not plan to interject. Instead, it observed, waiting to see the outcome of this battle.

"You didn’t save me to make new friends, did you?” Gabriel thought quietly. “Not that I'm offended. After all, a good servant has to prove himself…"

A confident smile grew on his face. It was quite an eerie sight, considering the bola strapped tightly around his throat.

However, unbeknownst to his attackers, that bola bore no effect anymore.

"If this is a test, then prepare to be amazed."

While Naomi and Gabriel were on the ground, Faxon carefully approached them. He found joy in the grotesque scenery, enjoying the painful grunts of those who deemed themselves heroes of these lands.

He looked at Gabriel from afar, and seeing the bola wrapped around his neck like a cold scarf, he chuckled.

“Hand of West, eh?” He turned around. “Not sure why they call you ‘West’, but you sure got some skill in those hands!”

The invisible man behind him gained color. His red eyes ceased to shine as his grey skin and simple black clothes appeared. His statue was that of an honorable man, muddied by the expression of an empty, lifeless husk.

“A hero-kill on your first day. Woah!” Faxon patted the man’s side. “Keep up the good work and you’ll have a bright future in the mercenary business! Isn’t that right, Terry?”

Faxon looked around, but his buff partner was nowhere to be found. The only sign left of him ever being here was a cut-off hand, abandoned on the side of the road.

Faxon’s face churned into a frown.

“What a worthless waste of muscles! Such bodily beauty, dirtied by the cowardice of one finally meeting his match!”

Aimed and steady, Faxon kicked the man into the sky. It flew four meters off the ground, hitting and cracking an old window.

“Hah, that’s what I love to see!” Faxon clapped. “The Hand of the West and the Foot of the East! A terrific duo! Aren’t they, friend?”

Finally, he turned his attention towards the two heroes.

Naomi was on the ground, scratching his aching head. He looked up and upon seeing the grey-skinned man, he squealed. Forcing his sore limbs to move, he tried to crawl away, only to get struck by an even greater pain. He curled up into a ball and held his stomach with teary eyes.

Faxon noticed his pain. With sadistic glee, he waltzed over to better enjoy the man’s painful grunts.

Naomi saw as he approached and desperately tried to crawl. However, hair wrapped around his leg and threw him back where he began.

“Did you not hear me, my friend? Where are you going now?” Faxon leaned close.

“Gahh!” Naomi cried out in fear.

“No need to be so scared!” His hair moved and pinned Naomi to the ground. “Tell me, what’s your name?”

“N-Naomi!” He cried. “Please, don’t hurt––“

As he would have pleaded for mercy, a green rope of hair held up his head and bashed it into the cold pavement.

Naomi roared out in pain.

“Hush now!” Taxon leaned close, moving his hair to wrap around Naomi’s mouth. “You said it, didn’t you? You don’t want to cause pain to another human! How sweet, really! This is the kind of humanitarianism that would have brought a tear into my grandmother’s eyes!”

Forcing Naomi’s head off the ground, Faxon’s smile grew larger as he bashed it again into the ground. Naomi’s cries of agony were a grotesque love letter, or at least that is how he thought about them.

“I’ll tell you what,” He whispered into Naomi’s ears. “Your respect for life is akin to those who gave me my Sigil. Ah, how fondly I remember…

It was eight cycles ago that it all happened. I was still an amateur assassin, working for low money in the slums.

One job went astray after I accidentally killed the wrong person.

The police found out shortly after and I was on the run for two days. That’s forty-eight hours of running without food, water or sleep.

Eventually, the police caught up and I tried to shake them off through a sunflower field. It looked hopeless, when suddenly…

‘You look like you could use some help! Mind letting us lend a hand?’

It was a group of nomad titans, seeking shelter in the field. Tribes like these are not unheard of, and peaceful titans can be found all over Astria.

I told them I was a simple thief, wanted for stealing a chicken. I told them how hungry I was and they took pity on me. They gave me shelter and when the guards caught up, they hid me from them.

I was with that group for a few days, hiding. One of the titan girls became fond of me and she taught me a children’s game.

It was simple. Two people put their hair together into a knot, and the one who can pull the other through a set distance is the winner.

It was a stupid game, but one I was surprisingly good at it.

Turns out I was so good that for some unknown reason, I was blessed with a Sigil!

It was a Hair Sigil, as prophesied by the titans. They said it was a legendary Sigil, sent by Mother Nature to unify the nomadic tribes.

They celebrated me as their prophet, holding me a large feast.”

Faxon gazed into the distance for a while, recollecting his thoughts. He chuckled as he remembered how this story end.

“Of course, I did not want to spend my life in the field, singing ‘Kumbaya’ and alike. So, you know what I did? I slaughtered every one of them with my newfound Sigil. Not a single titan was spared.”

Raising his feet, he kicked Naomi in the chest.

“Those bastards did not even try defending themselves! They bowed down and cried, but not a single one of them had the balls to hurt me!”

With every sentence came another attack. He kicked Naomi wherever he could, not even for a sadistic joy but out of pure hatred for the mentality he possessed.

Holding up his head, he could see the bloody mess of tears that covered all of Naomi’s face.

“I’m going to kill you! I’m going to spread my hair through your lungs and pierce your abdomen with a thousand little strands!”

Naomi turned towards him, looking slightly to his right with a saddened expression.

“Is the really no other way?” He asked.

Faxon was surprised. Naomi’s voice was reluctant, but not possessing any fear.

“You little…” Faxon cursed. His hair turned into a large spike that aimed straight at Naomi’s head.

An attack from that would’ve easily pierced through his skull.

“I see...” Naomi sighed as he looked away. “Then do what you must.”

Faxon’s eyes opened even wider. His blood boiled from wrath that turned his eyes crimson red. He mustered his remaining force into one final attack, roaring his heart out as he sent the large spike of hair towards Naomi’s head.

“Die, you son of a bitch!”

That is what he would have said. However, no voice came out of his mouth.

The reason for that quickly became apparent. He could not feel anything under his throat, nor could he move or breathe, as everything under him turned numb.

Suddenly, his head fell to the ground.

“What?!”

As his face met the cold pavement, another body came into his vision. It bled from the neck upwards, where it was missing a head.

Suddenly, Faxon realized the truth.

“Is that… My body?!”

He could not cherish this truth for long.

A foot came crashing down on his head, stomping it into the ground and sending its bearer straight into the afterlife.

That foot belonged to none other, than the man they presumed already dead.

It belonged to Gabriel, who shook the blood off his elegant footwear with little emotion.

Naomi emerged from the ground, gazing at Faxon’s remains through his tears and blood. He felt troubled and disturbed, but mainly sore from his attacks.

“How did you survive?” He turned towards Gabriel. “I thought you choked to death.”

The demon wiped the blood off of his face, then gave his friend a smug smile. He put a finger on one of the many wounds on his neck.

Naomi was confused at first, however, seeing Gabriel’s chest move and hearing a quiet whistling emanating from the wounds, he quickly realized the truth.

Those wounds on his neck were not there by accident. When Gabriel realized he could not get the bola off, he stabbed holes through his throat as another way to breathe.

The blood coming from the wounds would have been a problem, but Gabriel was proud to show his hemomancy keeping things at bay.

“Huh.” Naomi shrugged before looking back at the corpse. “Happy to have you back.”

Gabriel was confused about his friend’s sudden change of emotions, but he decided to ignore that for now. After all, there was still one more opponent to defeat.

Behind them, the grey man still towered with red, lifeless eyes. Multiple bolas were attached to his side, but he did not seem to reach for any.

Gabriel aimed his rapier and equipped a battle stance.

This opponent looked inhuman. His attacks could have come from any direction.

Gabriel had to be very careful.

“What are you waiting for, psycho?” Gabriel thought, as if his opponent could hear that. “One of your friends died and the other fled the scene. Don’t you want to surrender?”

The man loomed there for a while, like a lifeless doll.

“I could not get a good look at your face before.” He said. “Glad to see you’re still alive.”

Then, as he finished that sentence, his head blew up!

“What the hell?!” Naomi recoiled from the boom.

Black matter sprayed everywhere in a disgusting rain of visceral fluids. There were no distinguishable organs, just a vile mix of inorganic stuff.

“Did that fucker just blow up?!” Naomi squirmed below the nauseating rain.

Gabriel froze down. He was at a lack of words by the surprise suicide.

There was no reason for the man to kill himself.

He could have still fought. He was skilled with his weapon, which he seemed to possess dozens more of.

Yet, he chose to kill himself in such an absurd manner.

Something about that felt wrong.

Something about that was not right.

Between the black droplets of inhuman rain, a thin piece of paper flew through the sky. It was hidden somewhere under the man’s clothes, revealed only after it landed before Gabriel’s feet.

He picked up the paper to read what was inscribed.

“Name: Wrick Urbanson"

"Sigil: Bolamaster (LvL. 8)”