It was known that the trickster's mark was considered the worst fighter for practical purposes. Their people weren't made for combat, not a physical one.

The combat between Ronan and The Butcher didn't look like it would end quickly. As Ronan tried to flee the scene, Tyloh's men appeared to push him back. In front, he had to use his cunning and his daggers to eliminate the assassins, but he could never let his guard down as behind him was always a sword that only needed one false step from the marked man to finally slice his throat.

Combat was challenging, and the trickster mentor knew that was a way of distraction. The Butcher was nothing more than a decoy.

The fight dragged on; Ronan had to leap over the corpses of Lastrel citizens and assassins falling for his weapons. Tyloh was out of control; his attacks weren't precise and subtle but brutal. The Butcher's sword pierced the flesh of the corpses like a sickle harvesting the crops at his feet, the metal leading to scraping against the cobblestone of the street and drawing sparks and steam as they grazed the wet stones beneath them.

"Silence! Silence!" shouted Tyloh over and over in his head. The boy had hatred and frustration painted on his face. "You go down and do it! No! I'll do it!"

Ronan's few opportunities to take down his former student were when Almond would go in over his head to order or pressure him. Ronan could run at him to disarm him or propitiate some severe injury in those moments. However, he never managed to take his eyes off Tyloh.

Once he reached him, Ronan had to lower his gaze; otherwise, he would briefly fall into the unhinged trance that The Butcher possessed. The skill of Tyloh's brand of a trickster was quite unique. Tyloh's searing stare expressed great torment that shattered people's minds. His men, hundreds of thieves, murderers, and monsters, instead of having fallen victim to the blade of his sharp weapons, had fallen victim to his unhinged look. Ronan charged toward Tyloh to stab him, but once he felt that quick exchange of glances, his head began to burn from thousands of voices, and he had to close his eyes and lower his eye. Luckily for him, any mental disturbance soon disappeared, but missing an opportunity to end came at a considerable cost.

As each failed attempt came and went, Ronan grew weary. However, the marked man saw tiredness and tears on his former student.

The boy was several corpses away from his mentor. The grip on his red-hot sword was shaky, and Tyloh's eyes stayed set on his master, out of reach of his own madness.

"Shut up! Shut up!" shouted The Butcher incessantly.

Ronan saw again that Almond was inside his pupil's head. Still, he didn't attack him but did what he knew best.

"They must be desperate to cut off my head," Ronan exclaimed, with an exhausted gasp and a teasing grin. "Maybe they should have sent the big guy with the horned helmet."

The Butcher scowled and threatened his master, "Don't try to play games with me!"

Ronan smiled, for he noticed how Tyloh's tone was hesitant and exhausted.

"Come on, Tyloh, you know I say right," Ronan insisted with a smirk. "You were always bad at working in a group. You could never follow orders well."

"Shut up! Shut up!" shouted The Butcher incessantly, lunging at his master.

Ronan rolled on the ground as Tyloh's sword drew a red trail where it had been.

"See, my lungs are burning, and I can still do this," Ronan exclaimed with a gasp as he took several steps back quickly. "Face it, you'll never get these..."

Ronan picked up the three black spheres again, a group of rattles he used with his students that they were to steal from him. They were delicate, so trying to take them out of a pocket or his traveler's bag caused the shrill sound of the bells to be heard with great intensity. Several students had passed that test, but Tyloh hadn't been one of them.

Soon, a couple of reinforcements came to Tyloh's aid.

"Tyloh, the others--!"

The Butcher soon raised his sword, one had his head sliced off, and another he stabbed with his sword until his viscera boiled.

"Shut up, or you'll be next!" shouted Tyloh into the air once more.

Ronan, cunning and without further hesitation, hurled the bells at The Butcher.

The boy heard the shrill sounds of those black spheres heading toward him. The boy opened his eyes and dropped his sword to catch the bells in his innocence. Then, the boy's broken mind watched the little black balls in his hands, trembling and creaking. It was the first time he had seen them up close.

Tyloh didn't see how his master pounced at him and, with one fierce punch, threw him to the ground. Once on the ground, Ronan wrapped his arms around The Butcher's neck to choke him.

Tyloh groaned as the air grew thinner in his chest. In vain, the boy dug his fingernails into his mentor's bare arms as Ronan had already caught him once again in his games.

Tyloh's eyes were closing, and the trickster pupil was becoming less of a problem, but while that was happening, another problem began.

Soon, the ground started to shake, and the cobblestone of that street was rapidly cracking like an earthquake. Then, the one directly in front of both, a tall wooden construction that appeared to be a fabric store, began to shake. The timbers popped loudly, and like an avalanche, the entire building collapsed.

Ronan let go of Tyloh and quickly rolled across the floor and crawled over the dozens of bodies, leaving his former student almost unconscious to be crushed by the building. The man gasped, still not understanding what happened, but he soon knew who it had been.

"You and me, Almond!" shouted Ronan, "Appear!"

Almond's voice made an appearance once again, only this time, it was in the shattered streets of Lastrel.

"You still have strength left, Ronan," the man exclaimed with a smile. "That's good for a man of your age."

Ronan watched him in annoyance, not only at his presence but at that accusation about his youth. Ronan laughed softly and gasped as he felt the adrenaline drain from his body.

Then he exclaimed, "Whatever they're offering you, it must be good..."

"It is, and very much so," Almond replied, determined with what he would do.

The wizard raised his hand and showed his palm to the sky. Ronan observed that and, almost without hesitation, took off running as that simple gesture would trigger big trouble.

Almond, the surrounding mists rose again, giving Ronan an overview of where he was and where he could go. However, as the fog lifted, storm clouds began to form a short distance above the ground. In those clouds, a mighty roar could be heard that brought with it lightning. His magic was wild as lethal.

Again, the marked man ran through the streets, feeling Almond's eyes upon him. Numerous wild, scintillating impacts struck everywhere without truly perceiving who they hit so thus, so civilians and assassins suffered scorching lightning strikes. Such unbridled magic was unstable, Ronan knew, for when magic was used without components and wildly, it caused damage to the mage himself. Nevertheless, Almond was determined to bring him down. That trickster's head was worth a lot to him.

With every step Ronan took, his legs and chest told him he should rest, but he could only leap over walls, rubble, and corpses to escape. Finally, after one false step, he fell.

A stumble as he reached an open area caused him to fall, and all over his back, the fierce discharge of lightning burned the leather of his armor and made him writhe violently.

Yue ran and ran away from the scene, her quick steps gave her an advantage again, but she knew it was only a matter of time before that monster would appear again. With the streets littered with bodies and chaos, the alleys had become a refuge for the wounded people mourning the loss of someone close to them. She didn't mind going on her way; She didn't mind seeing faces crying out for help, dead with fear.

She didn't care about the fear of others as she couldn't control her own.

The akajsi girl hid in the middle of the rubble of an old craft store. Blood was everywhere, staining ceramic pots and leather goods. Outside, the bodies of those who should have been the owners lay dead and with their throats slit. The girl hid behind the counter, breathing agitated and painful. She then swallowed saliva and breathed hard until it made her throat hurt.

She lifted her gaze to the entrance with compulsion, hoping to see that giant monster. It wasn't happening yet, but she knew she would see Torkell again. Unfortunately, being unable to hurt him and defend herself generated too much anguish for her. As she breathed agitated, she cried and wanted to escape.

"Don't cry! Don't cry!" she screamed to herself repeatedly, clenching her fists and pounding her head as a scolding herself.

She gritted her teeth as the crying wanted to escape her. She was supposed to be brave; she could protect herself. At least, she thought so. The elven girl was breathing in agitated breaths as a vague silent cry escaped from her. Quickly, she wiped away the tears with the sleeve of her dirty white shirt.

A loud rumbling was heard throughout the city, Yue saw everything around her begin to shake, she watched as several things fell from the shelves and racks, and the remaining glass in the store shattered. Then, instinctively, the girl ran out of the store once again.

Amid the sparse battles that still exploded, where assassins took the lives of innocents, and the guard responded to the assaults with difficulty, the girl watched as some of the fog lifted again. She was able to get a view of the panorama again. Soon, local guards separated by the mists regrouped, throwing arrows and swords at the assassins, trying to retreat in the face of the numerical difference. However, it all seemed to be in vain again, for, up the slope of that street, the colossal figure of Torkell again made his presence known.

The girl felt Torkell staring at her and didn't hesitate to turn around once more.

"Shoot!" a voice was heard behind her.

Suddenly, several arrows were fired around her, causing her to duck, and great confusion was marked on her face as she saw a sphere of fire fly over, falling on a group of assassins fleeing the scene. The fire spread over them as if they were covered with pitch, and soon the arrows gave them the end they needed to stop suffering from the burns.

"Hey!" the same youthful voice called out to Yue.

She, crouching down and with her knife in hand, turned toward that person. A tall, slender young man dressed in vibrantly colored clothes was gesturing for her to hide with him and his companions in the alley.

"Come on, now!" the boy shouted once more before grabbing the girl by her arm to drag her inside. She simply let herself be pulled in, and soon that boy and his companions were again firing a small shower of arrows.

"Hey, are you okay?" asked another boy, stout and round-faced, with gentle looking.

He tried to help her up but nearly took a cut from her. Finally, the boy pulled back, and Yue could get up on her own.

"Calm down," the boy exclaimed, extending the wide sleeves of his shirt so she could see his hands. "We don't want to hurt you, akajsi."

"What the fuck is that giant thing?" exclaimed one of the boys, readying another arrow.

"Don't waste arrows on it," exclaimed the first boy in vibrantly colored clothes, who soon turned to the stout boy. "Is she like us?"

Yue looked at the boy with the bow in hand, then at the one in front of him. The boy then turned his hand over, revealing the mark he carried. The girl then lowered her eye to her own.

"I think I felt her presence," exclaimed the stout boy.

"Are you marked?" asked Yue. "All of you?"

"Look out!" shouted one of the boys quickly, pushing his companion.

The sound of a projectile cutting through the air was swift. He who had wasted arrows on Torkell had now been pierced by an iron bar that the same marked warrior had thrown at him, piercing his head.

"Back, back!" shouted the boy in vibrant robes.

There were four marked ones left in the alley, one of whom was Yue.

"You, can you fight?" the taller boy asked Yue.

Yue watched him with wide eyes and quickly denied, "You can't fight it. I already tried."

"We have the maps," the stout boy insisted, "All that's left is to get back to the ship."

Yue turned his gaze to the fat boy, "Will you guys be traveling on the boat too?"

The taller boy noticed the girl's saying, "You must be the other marked one the captain mentioned. Are you traveling alone?"

"My friend is still out there," Yue replied, "I must go look for him."

"The thing is coming for us!" exclaimed the third marked one, who tried to launch another arrow at Torkell, which he once again caught in mid-air and split with his hand.

"Ranier?" turned the fatter boy to his taller friend.

"We lost two of us already," exclaimed Ranier, the boy with the steady voice and piercing green eyes. "We're only here because they withheld the maps from the captain, and the bribe he gave them wasn't enough."

Yue took a breath, trying to return to how she always was.

"I won't leave without Fynn," she exclaimed with hostility in her voice. "Nor will I allow you to leave without us."

Ranier watched her defiantly, for those words could have bad intentions at that moment, and the knife in that akajsi girl's hand brought trouble.

"It wouldn't be fair to leave without them," the stout boy argued. "I mean if we were in their shoes..."

"Okay, I hear you," Ranier replied to his companion. "We won't set sail without you, but hurry up, akajsi..."

Yue watched him, annoyed, but soon nodded.

"Pollard, keep an eye on her," Ranier ordered his colleague as he patted the other marked one's shoulder to stop firing arrows uselessly at the warrior.

The stout boy extended his hand to Yue, who hesitantly shook it briefly. Then, a golden glyph was drawn in the shape of a semicircle on the palm.

"Magic?" asked Yue.

"Exactly," exclaimed Pollard, smiling. "That way, we'll know whether you'll be back or not..."

The girl looked at him decisively, "I'll be back, and I'll be back with my friend."

Quickly the boy broke into a run down the alley, and behind her followed the others marked until they went their separate ways. He had to hurry, for, besides having Torkell following in his footsteps, they now had to set sail before those marked changed their minds. To add more, Yue saw how those clouds that had risen now seemed to shoot lightning at people.

The situation was in complete chaos.

The death trail of a marked warrior was clear; Fynn had once again made an unprecedented mess. Still, his path was quite selective, as his attacks were aimed at the assassins. A nice gesture that was overshadowed by the visceral slaughter he carried out. As he made his way through the streets, dozens of heads had been severed, and many killers suffered constant agony as their bodies bled out and their organs rotted in the streets.

Urian watched in amazement at what had happened, and there was still more to see.

Fynn's trail of death ended in a small square inside some buildings, where again, he had come across a group of killers committing aberrant acts against civilians.

The last of the assassins begged for mercy from Fynn, dropped his weapon, and mercifully crawled to the fountain in that square that paid tribute to Lithal's humanoid and feminine aspect. With her ample robe and wings spread, her figure symbolically poured the nectar of life from a vase over the fountain, thus honoring the goddess's holiness. But, unfortunately, the fountain and its statue were tainted at that moment, for with one swift slash, Fynn sliced the assassin's neck, and a powerful stream of blood shot from him until he bled to death.

The boy was trembling with both weapons in hand, his scale coat was stained, and his clothes and face.

The boy's glowing yellow eyes were vanishing, and Fynn realized what he had done. The boy, shaken, looked at the assassin's body at the foot of the fountain, then raised his gaze to the statue and, finally, to the rest of the mess he had made.

The women with torn clothes ran to the arms of their fathers, husbands, and sons, who had been tormented spectators of the situation.

The boy watched them and tried to take a step toward them. The families were terrified of their savior. So, he stood in place.

"Y-You may go," exclaimed Fynn with a tremor in his voice.

The families remained mute and motionless with terror.

"Come on, go away..." exclaimed once again the boy, who saw no other way out. "Go away!"

The boy shouted with all his remaining strength, and amid shouts and cries, the families quickly escaped from that square.

Thus, Fynn was left alone. At least, for a brief moment. The boy looked at the fountain and tried to kneel down to wipe the blood from his face. However, someone stopped him.

"I hope I'm not interrupting you," Urian exclaimed.

Fynn hastily turned to him and wielded his sword firmly.

"Wow, you make a massacre and still retain your strength," the warrior exclaimed mockingly and ironically through his helmet.

"I-I'm not afraid of you," Fynn exclaimed, trying to pacify the trembling in his voice.

"Usually, when someone says that, it's because they're actually afraid," Urian exclaimed, stepping forward in his armor.

Still with his sword sheathed, the warrior visualized the boy and the possible combat he would have.

"Do you plan to face me?" asked Urian.

"If I must..." exclaimed Fynn, a little more determined. "You caused this. You and your friends."

"They are not my friends," Urian indicated before continuing as he noted the massacre on the site with his hand, "And I did not cause this..."

The boy, upset about what he had done, couldn't accept being labeled as a murderer by him. Fynn, with a shout, rushed at Urian.

The warrior was swift, even in that heavy armor he wore. He quickly drew his sword and deflected Fynn's impact.

"Too brutish," the scarred warrior exclaimed matter-of-factly.

Fynn launched another attack with his sword and then another with his ax.

"Bad, very bad," Urian noted calmly. Then, with only one hand and as if in a duel, the warrior brushed off Fynn's attacks. "Strikes and attacks without thinking. It's clear that whispers control you..."

"Shut up!" exclaimed Fynn.

The duel barely moved Urian from his spot; each counter to Fynn's attacks barely made him move. It was only to battle more comfortably and always know how to read his opponent's movements when he did. Urian then took the initiative, turning that battle into a real sword duel.

"Come on, move," Urian exclaimed simply, performing several swipes with his sword at the boy to get him off guard.

Fynn was not ready for that kind of duel and quickly had to drop his ax to focus on his sword. Urian's sword strikes were something that the whispers could barely provide him with support. Whispers had allowed him to fight all his enemies so far. Now Urian was the exception.

"Bad, very bad," Urian exclaimed again, gripping his sword tightly. Soon, with a twist, he wrenched the sword from the boy's hands and, with one kick, sent him to the ground and dragged him to the fountain once more.

The blow felt like the thud of a log; the marked boy let out a groan of pain as Urian struck him, as he also felt some bones in his chest creak.

The boy tried to get up, but the edge of Urian's sword was on him. The dark-skinned boy raised his gaze to the ostentatiously armored warrior.

"I thought you had a cloak..." the boy exclaimed with a groan.

"I lost it over there," Urian pointed out.

The warrior then rested the tip of his sword under Fynn's chin and made him raise his gaze to look at him.

"Do you have a name?" asked Urian.

The boy hesitated for a few moments, but when Urian pressed his weapon, he exclaimed, "Y-Yes, I am Fynn."

"Fynn... a curious name for a marked one, and more so for one who arrived here in the skin of a Talhari..."

Slowly, Urian withdrew his sword and then put his weapon away again.

Fynn raised his eye in confusion at the warrior.

"Go away, and don't come back," said Urian.

"What?" exclaimed Fynn, confused. "No, I will not leave without Yue and Ronan."

"Ronan will be dead by today, and your friend, if Torkell went after her..." pointed out Urian.

"I'm not leaving without them!" the boy exclaimed firmly. "If you don't think it's fair, then kill me..."

Urian watched him through his helmet and laughed softly, "Killing such a weak opponent would only make me look bad. Now, get out of here while you still can..."

Urian had watched on the road as the fog had vanished in various parts of the city; Almond must have been using elemental magic to pursue Ronan. That meant Tyloh had failed, and most likely, Almond was failing as well.

"Why are you doing this?" asked Fynn to Urian, "Why are you hunting us? Ronan is helping us; he's good and..."

"Ronan is a bastard," interrupted Urian.

Fynn remembered the words he said to Ronan, then raised his hazel eyes to the man, "Not to me..."

Suddenly, a powerful flash of lightning was heard a short distance away from them. Urian went on alert, and Fynn tried to take cover by instinct. Opening his eyes, Fynn saw how his mentor lay on the ground, writhing in pain until he was limp.