No single incident started the brawl. One moment everyone was on edge, watching the two furies exchange blows faster than even the average awakened could see. Then, a second later, everyone joined in the brawl. It was just like the song that Dallion’s father constantly listened to: it was like lightning, and everybody was frightening. Each could probably take out Dallion without a second thought, and that’s precisely why no one bothered to.

Under normal circumstances five people would have little chance against thirty. However, a gorgon changed the math drastically. She was, after all, the greatest threat capable of petrifying the entire tavern with as little as a glance. As a solution, half a dozen people rushed her direction, aiming to overpower her. All avoided looking her way while doing so.

With a single action, Euryale shoved Dallion forward out of danger, as kicks, punches, and sweets rained down upon her. Each series of attacks was precise to a fault, although here was when the lack of teamwork started to show. While each of the awakened were skilled in their own right, they rarely had to fight together, especially against someone that could handle their attacks. What the gorgon didn’t evade, she redirected, causing several of the attackers to hit their friends in their attempt to take her down. This only tended to infuriate them by making further mistakes, which were quickly taken advantage of.

An attack was briskly grabbed by the arm and shoulder, then spun around like a weapon and slammed on the wooden floor. The sound was thundering, but because of his improved body, the man only let out a groan as the fighting continued above him.

Meanwhile, Spike and Grunt had also joined into the fray. Spike was the first to do so, naturally. The scrawny human not only looked like the caricature of a last century punk rocker but also fought in similar fashion. There could be no doubt he had been through this a lot and took pleasure in it. Unlike the gorgon, he received as many hits as he let out, although still managing to keep on his feet. A few steps away, Grunt stood like an unmovable wall, slowly pushing into the gathering group of people who continued with their futile attempts to stop him. Their kicks and punches practically bounced off the body of the giant while he swatted them like flies.

This was the first time that Dallion had witnessed Grunt fight. The large man was much faster than his speed suggested. His opponents weren’t slackers either, avoiding the blows or getting back up into the fight if they weren’t.

The sight was mesmerizing. Part of Dallion wanted just to remain here and watch the scene. However, that wasn’t the plan. While their skills were vastly superior to Dallion’s, most of the awakened in the tavern were small fry—thieves, pickpockets, and the occasional bruiser. Even with their numbers, it would be difficult for them to do any serious harm. There were six, seven people at most, who were seriously strong. Jiroh had speculated that none of the strong ones would join in the fight… with one exception—the fury. In truth, the name of the species wasn’t only for show. So far Dallion’s only contact to the species had been Jiroh and the general’s servants. Looking at the fierce exchange of attacks, he could only be thankful he hadn’t caught one on her bad side. The entire incident of this morning might well have been because he had pissed her off. Quite likely it hadn’t even been because of the money, but rather about his refusal to hand it over.

Stick to the plan! Dallion said to himself. It wasn’t his place to analyze the situation. All he had to do was take advantage of the first dozen seconds of chaos and reclaim his sword and shield. Later he was going to move towards Spike and Grunt, who would clear a path to the outside, while Euryale protected everyone’s back.

Using his guard skills, Dallion made his way to the spot where the fury had been sitting. The harpsisword was still there, as was the shield. The moment he took hold of the weapon, though, he felt someone’s gaze upon him.

“You’re lucky, kid,” the tattooed man said, as he poured what smelled like bourbon. “Two hunters started all this just so you could get back your trash.”

Dallion paused for a moment. In his mind, he was picturing how a fight against the man at the bar would go. Should he attack, or just grab his gear and run?

“Try it and you’re dead,” the man said with such determination that Dallion felt shivers down his spine. “Take your scrap and go. And pray that we don't cross paths again.”

There was no malice in his words, just a matter-of-fact statement. Dallion could tell the man was strong, possibly stronger than anyone here. If he wanted, he could have killed Dallion where he stood, and still he was letting him go?

As the saying went, never look a gift horse in the mouth. Grabbing the shield and harpsisword, Dallion then rushed towards the main exit. Barely had he taken a few steps away, when Spike leapt over the bar, aiming to kick the bald man in the head.

The attack was lightning fast, and yet it was deflected with such ease that one would say that Spike had been standing still.

What the heck are you doing? Dallion felt his heart hump into his throat as he watched in terror as the two exchanged blows.

“You sound like a big shot,” the scrawny man laughed as he swirled, doing a series of lower and upper sweeps.

With just as little effort as before, the other used his left hand to block the attacks, still holding his glass of alcohol. Not a single drop was spilled. Before Spike could start his next attack, the tattooed man gulped down what was left of the drink, then effortlessly split the glass in two perfect halves.

“Third gate?” the man asked, somewhat impressed. “And still not of the five.”

Using the glass parts as knives, the man slashed at Spike. The Icepicker instantly twisted, bending backwards so as to evade the arc of attack, though that didn’t save him. One of the edges manages to graze his left biceps, leaving a red line behind. The wound didn’t seem deep, but the fact that it was there at all made Spike jump back up and to the other side of the bar counter where he kicked up a chair from the floor and smashed it to bits with a single strike. Then—while the two pieces were still in the air—he grabbed a leg with each hand.

The tattooed man didn’t let him gain the initiative, continuing with a series of attacks aimed at Spike’s throat. Glass met wood and despite the generally perceived notions, glass won, shaving off wooden splinters as if the man was carving. Then it hit Dallion: the tattooed man was combing, carving and attack skills.

What is a carver doing here? Dallion wondered. Crafting awakened rarely took the front lines. This one not only had done so, but had made his way to the position of a moon aristocrat.

Dallion was a less than five steps away from the exit. Grunt was keeping the area clear, remaining the focus of most attackers.

I appreciate the rescue and all, but it’ll be stupid to stop here, the shield said. The charmer can take care of himself. You can’t.

Music, Dallion thought. To his surprise, nothing happened. This was the first time the skill didn’t have an identifiable effect.

At the same time, Spike was being pushed back. The smile remained on his face, but it was clear to everyone that he had been outclassed, even to the point that the few people remaining in their seats at the bar counter didn’t bother to assist in the battle. All of them were standing observing the events with near boredom, occasionally glancing about.

Then suddenly, a large pop filled the air, as if the air pressure suddenly shifted. Instantly, the fighting stopped. Everyone’s attention focused on Jiroh, who was holding a knife to the other fury’s throat. Judging by the expressions, the fight was over and Jiroh had won.

“There’s no point in going on,” Jiroh said, calmly. “We go our way, you go yours.”

“That’s not how it works, hunter,” the tattooed man said, slapping both of the glass pieces together. For a moment it almost seemed as if he were holding a whole glass. “Even for you.”

“You took of mine.” Jiroh narrowed her eyes.

“You broke into my house instead of asking.”

“I’ll owe you one.”

There was a moment of silence. The offer was made and how it was time for the man to respond. For a brief moment all eyes turned his way in anticipation. Even Euryale had focused half the snakes in that direction.

“One of three,” he said at last. “And you keep what is yours.”

“Deal.” Jiroh removed the knife from the thief’s throat, then made a sign for the rest of her group to head outside. “As for you.” She turned to the other fury. “I don’t know you and I don’t care. Step foot on my territory again and I’ll know.” Jiroh dropped the knife on the floor and started her way out as well.

“Still, I must wonder why would two hunters go through all this for a pup?” the tattooed man asked as Jiroh passed by.

“That’s because hunters see potential,” Euryale replied in a normal tone of voice. “I thought you already knew that.”

“I do now.”

Nothing more was said. The awakened in the tavern remains still, waiting for Jiroh and her group to leave, and they did. It was only when they were outside that Dallion allowed himself to exhale. There was a moment inside in which he wasn’t sure that he would survive.

“Did you get everything you needed?” Jiroh asked.

“Yeah.”

Technically Dallion hadn’t reclaimed the money that was stolen, but he had no plan to go back inside to ask for it. Besides, everything considered, things had ended pretty much as perfect as one could hope for.

“That was the longest minute of my life,” he said after a while. “Do we need to swim back again?”

“That’s the fastest way. But I guess we can walk a bit. You’ll still need to get the rest of her clothes.”

Of course they would. The fury was the only one that didn’t seem affected by water. She had gone into the river fully dressed and still remained dry the moment she had gone out of it. For some reason Dallion suspected that there was more to her species than what he’d read in the library scrolls.

“We’ll be heading off to the guildhall,” Spike said. If anyone was upset that the fighting hadn’t lasted longer, it was him. “Let me know if there’s something else to help out with.”

“I will.” Jiroh smiled. “Thanks for the help, Spike.”

“And Dal, next time, take better care of your gear. Your gear is your family.”

Gear was an awakened’s family. Such a simple concept that Dallion had missed all that time only because he didn’t bother speaking with it. It was only thanks to the shield that Dallion had gotten a sense of that, and ironically also because of the shield he had neglected his other items more.

Spoke walked along the muddy path of the bank, along with Grunt.

“I have something to do as well,” Jiroh said. “Eury’ll take you back to the inn. Get some sleep in the awakened realm. It’s better that Hannah doesn’t see you in such a state.

What state? Dallion thought, but nodded nonetheless.

“Jiroh,” he began. “I’ve a question.”

The fury looked at him.

“What exactly is a hunter? You’ve never mentioned it before, and you never talk about your life outside the inn…”

“That’s because Hannah doesn’t want me scaring off customers.” There was no telling whether she was lying or not. Dallion chose to believe that she wasn’t. “Hunters are what it sounds like. We go into the wilderness and kill creatures that shouldn’t exist. Most of the time it’s boring, but every now and again something really scary appears. Like a chainling, for example.”

Like a chainling… Once a person had fought one, no further explanations were necessary. It was almost like people who had been part of an unspoken club. Dallion’s “hunt” had lasted a week and during that time he had set eyes on the creature for a few minutes, but he could never forget the experience. Was this why the fury had been so nice to him? Because of the unspoken bond they shared?

“Thanks… both of you.”

“You know, you’re really cute when you’re being serious.” Euryale put her arm round his shoulders. “It’s all good, though. We take care of our own. Just try not to get in too much trouble next time?”

“I’ll try not to.”