Mahon, Zac, and Ash left the ending party as the first rays of the sun shone on the sleeping city. The trio was exhausted, but they all had happy smiles on their faces. People had praised their music all their way from the platform to the exit. They had successfully enlivened the party and a lot of couples had continued to dance until very late.

For Mahon, it had been a rich experience. He was particularly satisfied at how he had felt during his music Flow, discovering yet another facet of the mysterious magic. He had even impressed Zac and Ash, and they had praised him for his incredible performance a dozen times already. Though Ash didn’t know how he had done it, Zac had clapped his friend’s back while winking at him, clearly showing he knew what happened.

The scoundrel even planned it so he could dance with Ash.

The trio walked a bit together in the still silent city before the road split between the school and Ash’s house, and they paused at the intersection. Mahon spoke first.

“I’ve things to do tomorrow, so I’m gonna head straight to bed.” It wasn’t even false. He had some recruitment mission to do for the Fada cult in the evening, and he needed to rest before that.

Zac knew it as well and didn’t protest his friend’s blatant excuse to leave the couple alone.

“Yeah, I’m tired as well. I’ll escort Ash home and come back. See you later, Mahon.”

“Zac, you don’t need to…” Ash protested, but her weak attempt only met silence. She wasn’t really against being escorted, after all.

With a smile, Mahon left the two lovebirds to their own affair and went straight to bed. Nightmare welcomed him with its usual eeriness and Mahon ran to his familiar rock to meditate.

He exited Nightmare feeling refreshed. Throwing a look around, he searched for Zac, but his friend wasn’t here. More than that, his bed wasn’t even undone.

Someone didn’t sleep here…

A smile creeping up at the thought, Mahon dressed himself for his day with the cultist and exited the school. Following his routine, he didn’t go straight to the meeting point, which would have been suicidal. Instead, he took a roundabout way, losing himself in the maze of streets that was Ratho.

Once he was sure nobody could find out where exactly he came from, he approached the building chosen for this particular appointment. Usually, it was an unremarkable room, big enough to accommodate ten people at most. He would find fake city guards’ clothes inside, the cultists’ favorite trick to scare potential recruits, and spend his day haunting people.

Today, however, the building wasn’t similar to the ones he was used to. It was bigger, in a more central part of the city.

No playing guards, I guess. Did they switch their trick?

He knocked at the door with the signal he had learned early on, and a veiled head opened the door. From the silhouette and clothes, he recognized the same woman he had worked with a few times before. She was the one who had grabbed his blue token airborne that day.

“Mahon. Right in time, perfect.”

She moved aside so he could enter and then gestured for him to move along the corridor. Unlike the naked places he had seen before, the one he walked through was decorated. A few old paintings and polished weapons hung on the walls. It was not much, but it indicated that this place was not just a meeting point.

“Where are we?” He asked.

“You’ll understand soon.” The veiled lady answered while gesturing for him to continue forward.

At the end of the corridor, they went down a staircase to what seemed to be the basement of the mansion. Another door that Mahon pushed open before he came to a stop at the scene displayed in front of him.

There were at least thirty people inside the basement, but it was not crowded, the dimensions big enough to accommodate ten times more. With a glance, Mahon could see that some installations had been built recently. A full third of the place was covered in sand and delimited with loose ropes laid on the ground. In the remainder of the room, tables and chairs had been set up, not unlike a classroom.

Most of the people were sitting there, and the man acting as the professor was not a stranger. With his big mustache, Mahon instantly recognized Belanor, the man whose advice helped him master the Flow in Ratho.

The veiled woman gestured for Mahon to go sit down somewhere while she herself went to choose a seat of her own.

“Good!” Belanor spoke as they sat. “Now that our last candidate has joined as well, we can start. You’re all here because you’ve proved your loyalty and devotion to our cause. Today, we offer you a chance to increase your commitment. You want to do more? You want to use all your abilities to help our cause? You can.”

Most people started to sit a bit straighter as Belanor mentioned the opportunity to rank up.

“Unfortunately, we’re still a small group of people with great ideas. We can’t afford that these ideas get drowned by a sudden increase of people in our rank. Everyone here is promising on his own, but we can only offer twelve spots.”

The tension stepped up a notch, and some even started to look around to gauge the competition. Mahon stayed unfazed, focused on Belanor’s speech and words, not to miss any leak of information he could use to end the cult.

“We’ll test you, and only the most talented and determined will get an offer to join the real Fada cult. Our operations mostly required physically apt people and, more important, people with the right mindset. That will be the two aspects on which we’ll rank you. Any questions?”

The people shook their heads, and Belanor immediately continued. “Good. Everybody, please stand up and walk to the arena.” He gestured to the part with sand delimited by ropes, and the little group obeyed without hesitation.

The veiled woman approached the group with a heavy bag and dropped it in front of them. It opened and blunted swords rolled out.

“Pick one sword each and then enter the arena.”

One by one, the candidates grabbed a weapon and walked into the arena while Belanor continued his explanation.

“You’ll fight among yourself until stated otherwise. The swords are blunted, but we don’t want any severe injury, so act accordingly. We’ll assess how you fight and will give you more instructions on the go. Impress me. Ready?”

The thirty men and women raised their swords and moved to position themselves away from the center, where they could be attacked from any sides. Mahon didn’t need time to think about what he needed to do, he had prepared for such an opportunity every day for the last month. They had devised a strategy with Zac, and only the Flow was off limit, kept as a last ace up Mahon’s sleeve in case of trouble. Everything else was permitted.

Time to let loose.

Mahon eyed his opponent with an unconcerned look and stayed in the middle. Alone. Just from the way they held their swords and moved, he knew he’ll have no problem dealing with all of them. From the side, Belanor threw him an interested look before announcing the start of the fight. “Go!”

As one, the people rushed against each other and the sound of metal clinging against metal immediately disrupted the previous calm of the mansion. Five people dashed to Mahon, and the Last Red glided between the swipes, avoiding every single attack aimed at him. From the corner of his eye, he saw Belanor attentively observing him.

Impress you? Watch me.

Mahon jumped to the side and, without looking, swiped his sword on the left in a gentle motion. The weapon easily pierced the pathetic defense of its target and stopped a centimeter away from the man’s jugular. It stood there for half a second before moving away to another target. In its trail, it left a frozen man, intensely sweating.

One.

Mahon stepped to his right, letting a telegraphed attack slip to his side, and aimed for another weakness to exploit in his opponents. His sword lingered for a bit in front of an exposed chest before Mahon “cut” another vital point with mortal precision.

Two and three.

Mahon went behind his opponents, using their slow motion to shield him from being surrounded, and swiped two necks along the way. Each time, he stopped his sword a centimeter away from his target, keeping the weapon in position just long enough for everyone to know he could have ended their life right there.

Five.

With minimal movement, he had “killed” the group of five circling him and escaped their clutch. Looking around, he found a new target and rushed to it. A simple exchange and he moved away for another one.

Six.

He repeated his fast strikes a few times before switching his approach.

Eleven. It wouldn’t make a great show if I continued like this. Twelve.

He jumped in the middle of a fierce battle between four people and got rid of them in one swift move. Mahon had left even before the people got time to react to his sudden apparition.

Sixteen.

Mahon pursued his dance, playing with the other candidates like they were children. Within seconds, he had killed half of them and his kill count wasn’t stopping. He didn’t face one person capable of blocking two of his attacks. Some were stronger than others, but to Mahon it was still so low it didn’t make a difference.

He lost a bit of time chasing the last people he hadn’t tagged with his sword, but a minute had not yet passed before he stopped for lack of targets. He stepped outside the arena and put his sword back to the bag it came from, under the appraising look of Belanor.

“I’m done.” He simply stated before joining Belanor. “What’s the next part?”

“Good job, boy. I expected nothing less from someone who had Flowed before. I’m almost itching to test you myself.”

“What’s holding you back?” Mahon taunted the old veteran.

“I only fight with real weapons, and I don’t want to hurt you, boy.” Belanor answered with a provocative smile.

Mahon threw an unimpressed look back at the veteran. He was acting unconcerned, but deep inside he was thrilled. Given Mahon’s level it was almost certain someone strong would want to test Mahon himself, and that was a perfect excuse to also gauge the Fada cult elite’s strength. And depending on Mahon performance, it could also be a straightforward promotion to a higher position.

“Go on, old man. Show me what you’ve got.” Mahon grinned.

Belanor didn’t need to be told twice. He threw away his cape and went to pick two real swords from another bag. He threw one to Mahon, who grabbed it airborne, and instantly attacked.

The move was fast and Mahon immediately felt the danger. It was a full rank above the level of Pine Hill students. It lacked the strength of the youth, but it was all mitigated by the wise of the old. Midway through, Belanor changed his blade’s path at an abrupt angle. It got gently pushed away by Mahon’s sword and hit nothing but air.

Belanor retracted his sword while spinning and aimed again. Mahon sidestepped and went on the offensive. The old man saw it coming and blocked the attack with ease. The two men eyed each other with a smile for a second before unleashing a tempest of steel.

They had tested the water. They both knew the other was much more capable than this and they stepped up their swordsmanship two-fold. Belanor’s style was aggressive and mischievous, full of traps and concealed intents. Mahon was in complete control, leaning on his inhuman efficiency. His moves were fluid and his counter attacks deadly.

The fight intensified for another half minute until Mahon knew he was able to beat the old man. He saw through all the veteran’s dirty tricks and never once did he fall out of pace. Belanor was very strong, but Mahon was even stronger. He stayed in control of the fight despite the veteran’s attempts to shake him off.

Belanor started to struggle as Mahon began to get inside his head, anticipating each of his moves. Mahon stepped up his pace another notch, and at this point, there was no doubt he would end victorious.

The cultist didn’t agree to such an outcome, and his attacks suddenly became more precise and unpredictable. It was his first time facing It in Ratho, but Mahon recognized it immediately.

The Flow.

The fight balanced itself while Mahon stood firm to resist Belanor’s onslaught. For a split second, Mahon wanted to Flow himself, but he stopped just in time. His life wasn’t really at risk in this fight, and the Flow was an asset he intended to keep secret. Even if the veteran knew he had used it before in Nightmare, Mahon preferred that the man believed he had not yet succeeded in Ratho. Just in case.

Against the Flow and without Flowing himself, there wasn’t much Mahon could do. After an intense exchange, he gave it all to push Belanor back a step and immediately seized the opportunity to forfeit.

“You won. There is nothing I can do against your Flow.”

The light in Belanor’s eyes switched off, and his rhythmic-like gestures stopped as he left the Flow and lowered his sword. He smiled happily at Mahon.

“I’ve not had a fight that intense for a long time. Your style is really impressive, Mahon. I couldn’t have beat you without the Flow, that’s for sure.” Belanor commented.

The veteran then stepped forward and extended his hand. Mahon didn’t hesitate before shaking it.

“I’ve not fought at that level for a while, either. Good thing I had seen most of your tricks from old foxes in Nightmare or the fight would have ended much sooner. You’re very talented.” Mahon answered.

Praise the man and wait for the reward, as Zac said.

“Hahaha, don’t flatter me too much. It’ll not get you accepted faster. Although with that level, I’ve no doubt you will be selected to the final step...”

“The final step?”

“We’ll bring you with us on a real mission and see how you fare.”