“State your names and business!”

The party of four, dragging the captive Johan, had reached the feet of a town’s gates.

They were just in time, for the sun had sunk in the horizon, already extending its soft red-hued invitation to the night.

The walls were more than half a dozen times Johan’s height and made from black soil. The great gates constructed by solid wood reached halfway up and were as wide as tall. Overall, the fortifications would have been more suited to a large city than a town in the middle of nowhere.

Armed men and women could be spotted on top of the walls. Most carried broadswords similar -though smaller in size- to the Beheader’s. Johan noted several martial auras among them.

Are these disciples?

Johan had spent the last decade in the Central Planes. There, even the weakest disciple-level fighters were rare. For few could afford the ceizeless effort needed to reach that level. And here, on this wall, there were already more samples of that effort than he had met in years…

As expected of a place where death by age is said to be an achievement.

On the other hand, the aura flow of these disciples bore no semblance of fine control. By comparison, the Beheader had been many times more skilled.

Speaking of the Beheader, hadn’t he boasted about learning from a master?

Johan reasoned there must be a type of hierarchy, where the weaker disciples learned from the stronger ones and the stronger ones learned from the master.

Things could become dangerous, he acknowledged.

But he had already come this far.

Grandmaster Kenji’s descendant was last seen coming this way a couple decades or so ago. And starting from a cradle of civilization sounded more fruitful than his previous aimless wondering in hopes of finding clues.

Luckily, martial aurtial aura prolongs longevity or I could end up meeting a ghost.

Respecting that his self-imposed quest may not be over for a long time, Johan squared his shoulders, even as he and his captores approached the half-open gate.

A couple dozen guards barred the way. They were surprisingly well-equipped. They wore long hooded cloaks made of rough brown fabricks that let them blend with the darkness of the land. From the few rare openings in the garments, metal armor occasionally glinted.

“I said, who are you?”

The woman leading the gate’s platoon pressed her question when nobody replied to her previous shout from a distance. In her leading position, she was already within what Johan would usually consider his attack range.

She was… strong!

Her broadsword was larger and heavier than the Beheaders. Her bulging arm muscles, visible even under her loose conceiling robes, accented her stern face and short yellow hair.

Her martial aura easily rivaled Johan’s.

And, contrary to the patrols on the walls, she kept that huge power suppressed; it was hard to notice even from this close.

Well, she hadn’t reached a master’s -or even Johan’s for that matter- level of control. But it was normal to sacrifice precision when specializing in destructive power, as her muscular build suggested.

She… reminded Johan of a friend.

A fire in the sky painted the landscape with hellish hues. Thin descending shadows. A spike of pain and Johan was propelled dozens of steps away into the dirt. Several lances, two times his height, were planted straight where he had just been… Blood. So much blood! Flowing freely… A bulky, broken body, that should have been his own, pinned upright. A strained playful smile on lips died bloody crimson. “You’re right… I’m good… at sending people flying.” Clear blue eyes locked on his and just like that the light escaped them.

The memory hit Johan hard.

And his own martial aura’s control wavered for an instant.

Oh, snap!

The female disciple’s eyes reflexively twitched towards him.

“And you are?”

Johan redoubled his efforts in not letting aura outside the flow of his bloodstream as he stared back with what he hoped to be a blank expression. He could see her honey-colored eyes lighten in color as she used martial aura to augment her senses.

“We’re selling this guy.” The man with the eye-patch spat the words, drawing her attention.

“And you are?”

“Captain Nightcrusher, they came earlier as well.” one of her subordinates zealously offered from behind.

"Did I let them in?” She asked impatiently.

“Yes… Remember?” the same subordinate patiently explained.

“Pff, don't care for trashy mage faces. Just let them in again then.” she ordered. She moved out of the way, sparing one last suspicious glance towards Johan.

The expression of the man with the eye-patch soured. But, contrary to Johan’s expectations, he only grunted something -insulting judging from his tone- under his breath before gesturing for the others to follow.

Maybe he wants to lay low. Johan hypothesized. Judging from the Beheader's reaction, he might have some history around here.

Past the thick walls greeted them a cobblestone-riden road as wide as the gate. It was surprisingly well-constructed given the dusty trails outside.

On the roadside were arrayed buildings alike to the mud-walled huts of Johan’s hometown – albeit with no straws on their ceilings. Though some of the larger structures were made of stone.

The large street stretched towards the interior of the town but had none of the hustle and bustle one would expect. The few men, women and children moved with brisk paces from building to building and hid their faces behind hoods. The denizens changed direction if their steps accidentally brought them too close to each other.

The only livelihood came from a couple chicken running amok and a thin man chasing after them into an alleyway that lay perpendicular to the road. He swore profanities against what seemed like every god there was – including many Johan hadn’t heard of before.

However, once sounds of the chase faded in the distance, eerie quietness blanketed the road. Johan became keenly aware how heavy his group’s footsteps sounded when they trod on some of the looser cobblestones.

What's with this town?

Johan’s train of thought was interrupted yet again by the brutish man tugging the rope tied to his handcuffs.

Johan shrugged and put his head down, noticing while doing so that the man with the eye-patch had kept his sour expression.

Is he still upset at the gatekeeper’s comment?

Despite this, the man with the eye-patch led with confidence. They moved away from the main road and into thin winding alleyways.

As they went on, they came across an increasing number of abandoned buildings - some of such strange designs that Johan suspected had been left untouched for centuries.

After a certain point, the few people they met started reeking of killing intent. Though they avoided the party by entering others of the increasingly many branching paths.

And the man with the eye-patch led them further in.

Looming shadows started playing tricks to the eye, as they stretched between what felt like ruins of an old city. Now crumbled stone buildings were the norm, sparingly patched to show that some may still be in use. Many should have been drug dealerships judging from the smell and haggard beggars wailing to be let in cracked voices.

Eventually they walked through an alleyway less than two body lengths wide.

In its sides, tall walls stood intact - a rare sight amidst the surrounding dirty marble pillars and piles of debris.

“Who’s there?” the woman threw a stone towards a pile of molded slabstones.

Clang!

A man wielding a short sword was camouflaged behind them. He used his weapon to deflect the stone and lithely climbed over his cover to bar the way.

His hunched frame was so thin, he looked malnourished and struggling to support his head.

“You better choose wisely travelers”, he said under his hood, his long face partially obscured under its shadow in the fast-fading sunlight. “Leave your packs or die!”

His shrill voice was stale, as if he was reciting a boring play.

“W-What can you do alone?” the youngster stammered.

“Alone? Ha-ha” the thief humorlessly laughed.

The woman spun around.

“Dammit, there we’ve been cut off” she swore. “Six or seven.”

“Go and die in a ditch!” the annoyed voice of the man with the eye-patch boomed. Its volume -perhaps augmented with magical energy- reverberated in the quiet surroundings.

A spearhead made of ice formed in front of his body and with a gesture he hurled it towards the thief.

The thief jumped to the side and avoided it with ease. “Boys, get the mage first!” he shouted.

Six cloaked people came rushing from the same corner Johan and his captors had entered the alleyway. They were now sandwitched between the newcomers and their lone leader.

Grunting menacingly, the thieves formed two files, squeezing shoulder-to-shoulder in the narrow alleyway and leaving no room for escape in that direction. They looked bulky and well-muscled.

“I’ll get you first!” the youngster shouted at the hunchback.

He started forward, collided into Johan and tumbled to the ground.

“Forget the boy. Hester, stall a little. Muscle-for-brains, get their leader” the man with the eye-patch instructed.

Johan had to hand it to him, he did not even bat an eyelid.

The brutish man snorted his displeasure at the insult but still rushed to the front. The youngster sat confused and panic stricken, nursing his wrist.

As for the woman, she gritted her teeth and, in addition to her previous skimmitar, armed herself with a long knife she stooped to retrieve from her boot.

She jumped to intercept the thugs.

Johan’s evaluation of the woman's skill rose; although outnumbered and diminutive compared to her opponents, she kept them busy by aiming for their vitals and dodging their attacks. Occasionally, she used the knife as an impromptu shield.

The dim light and tightly packed opponents worked in her favor. But it was nevertheless an awe-inspiring display for someone that did not posess an ounce of martial aura.

Still, without said aura what she could do was limited. After a dozen or so breaths a metal club brushed against one of her shoulders. Then, shortly after, a short sword left a deep cut on her arm.

“Kyah!” She exclaimed in pain and retreated. Yet she smiled sinisterly, exposing her teeth.

If the thieves were confused by this, they did not get a chance to let it show.

The refractions around them, nearly imperceptible under the day’s last rays of light, quickly solidified into blocks of ice that run from the ground to their necks.

“Heh, well done keeping them in place” grunted the man with the eye-patch as the ice turned a hazy shade of white.

The frozen thieves’ faces changed from predatory to panicked.

“W-what…” the frontmost one begun, his voice trembling with either fear or cold. His hood had fallen off in the struggle and his rather long hair had tangled messily with his beard within the ice.

However, with a smirk, the man with the eye patch gestured in a theatric motion and the ice rose further, covering their mouths too.

“Let’s see… Should you… freeze from the inside? Oh, should I get rid of the defiance first?” A sadistic light sparkled in his only eye.

He grinned manically.

“Want to take what’s mine? There’s a price.” He sounded excited.

“Mm… one-eye…” the woman began in hesitation.

“Not now!” he inched closer to the solid blocks of ice trapping his victims.

He stopped in front the one that had exclaimed in surprise.

The thief looked back with wide eyes. His struggle against the solid prison was discernible only from the trembling of his head.

A small cone of ice appeared in front of the man with the eye-patch, hovering in front of his face. He stroked the smooth surface once and then gestured wildly.

Crash-Splish

With a sound like breaking glass, the cone exploded outwards into fragments that propelled onto the thief’s face, ruining one eye in the process.

“Mphh!”

Blood spluttered everywhere as the thief whimpered and violently jerked his head. But he could not cry out properly. Only his quick panicked breaths were made visible from the cold as puffs of fog in the fast-fading daylight.

The man with the eye-patch looked fascinated by the reaction.

“Aaaagh” a cry of anguish cut the proceedings short.

Johan turned just in time to see the brutish man falling to his knees, howling in agony.

And then night fell.

Helmont had had a bad day.

First, he had found rats in the laboratory – rats that had somehow acquired immunity to his expendable poisons.

He had hired some thugs for a clean up. But one of them had somehow found his concealed goat powder cabinet and ….couldn’t quite resist… Helmont had slit the boy’s throat then and there, while it lay in spasming coma amidst its own filth.

However, he doubted his Acolyte clients would be satisfied with just a severed head. So, he had sought some quick coin to supplement the apology.

It had been luck within misfortune to get a commission immediately.

“… an one-eyed mage. I don’t care how – remove him from the world.” the client had commanded with unmistakable killing intent. Like a sensible person, she had been wearing a hood. But, from her habbit of rubbing the stub of a missing hand, Helmont recognized her as a certain bigshot of a faraway country.

The pay was good. There was even intel on the target’s likely routes. And, with poison by his side, Helmont was confident in his ability to escape from stupid guards aiming to impose the so-called “guaranteed safety for civilians”.

He had prepared everything; men for the ambush, a stereotypical mugger’s line to disguise his objective and means, inhalable green-eyed spider venom and an easily assailable position as lure.

It had been the perfect trap.

Yet…

Swoosh

Helmont dodged and turned as the large man’s swing barely missed him. His sword had been knocked away in a previous attempt to parry and he was struggling to keep up.

But there was an even greater concern.

Why are the rest not coming this way? Surely, at least the mage would put up space between himself and a crowd. This was standard tactics!

Helmont spared a glance to his hired muscle.

He saw them having trouble with a lone woman.

I’m for sure cutting the deal. He fumed. Yet, he could do nothing, for he needed to concentrate and dodge another strike.

If they could not pose enough of a threat for the mage and weak-looking woman to enter his poison’s range, what use were they even?

Swoosh

“Ooops”

A heavy slash had touched some of Helmont’s hair.

“… Trash! Yer cow’ard!” The bulky man taunted.

But Helmont kept his composure.

Ten… Nine… -No, he’s that big- Two twenties and three… Two twenties and two… —No, he’s moving a lot and already’s looking pale. – Four… Three… Two… One…

Helmont calculated and counted down in his mind. Green-eyed spiders may be the bane of magical creatures, but this did not mean they did not feast on mundane game.

“Aaaagh” the large man stopped attacking and kneeled to the ground right on cue, which by some coincidence happened as night fell for good.

At least part of the plan had been successful, it seemed.

“What’s wrong, big guy?” Helmont taunted in the couple of breaths it took for his eyesight to adjust to the dark. All muscles hurting from the inside was a always a good incapacitating move.

Helmont could feel his pulse on his temples and cold sweat dripped from his face. Dodging had been tiring against the larger yet equally nimble physique, especially with the liquid antitode against spider venom rolling in his empty stomach.

The kneeling brute tried to roll away, but Helmont wouldn’t give him the opportunity. He pulled his trusted surgical dagger from his left hand sleeve and plunged it into the nape of the brute’s neck.

“Ghh”

Satisfied that he hadn’t lost his touch, Helmont pulled back the weapon. A spurt of blood accompanied the blade, barely visible as a black liquid shadow under the scant moonlight.

The body collapsed to the ground.

Well, that wasn’t so bad after all! And an additional body for experiments’s nice.

“How?” The woman shouted from somewhere behind, which made Helmont turn in caution. But there was nobody close enough for him to get weary – he would have noticed the footsteps after all.

“Ha *pant* haha *pant* it’s useless!” he replied, straightening his back. He regulated his breathing to calm down. He needed to assess the situation properly now that the battle frenzy was over.

Still not fully used to the night, he squinted at what was happening…

… and noticed his hired men being encased in ice.

“Seriously idiots?” he called. “Didn’t I pay you enough to lose a hand while charging the mage?”

Bah! Fools got cautious for no reason. Better get out.

This had been a bad day after all.

“Get back here!” the woman exclaimed when the leader of the thieves started retreating. She started forward.

“Idiot! He’s surrounded by poison!” The man with the eye-patch called, back to his irritable demeanor.

The woman skidded to a stop.

Just as Johan was getting ready to trip her too. From the start, the stale air around the hunchback leader of the thieves had been smelling weird. He

Woosh-woosh

The man with the eye-patch gestured and launched two cones of ice. However, the leader of the thieves avoided them with monkey-like dexterity while putting more distance.

“Fat chance.” The man with the eyepatch grunted and closed his fist.

Bump-crash

Just as fleeing hunchback started turning to make a full run for it, a slanted wall of ice that materialized in his way. He was knocked down even while the thin ice shattered. He fell to the ground with a groan.

“Hester, don’t let him come this way!” The man with the eye-patch commanded, spreading both palms in the air.

While the leader of the thieves struggled to stand up, more than a dozen cones of ice slowly formed above the man with the eye-patch. They reflected the moonlight in unpredictable directions.

“I’m not scared of you!” The leader of the thieves proclaimed with a shrill voice.

He reached inside his cloak and an irridiscent barrier -clearly visible in the night with its soft glow- sprang around him like a protective sphere.

Not a moment too soon.

Whoosh-clang-crash

More than half the cones of ice were propopelled flew towards him. But they crashed against the barrier and crumbled.

“You’ll pay for a wasted ward!” The leader of the thieves shouted. He then turned and started running for real. His frame straightened a little as he used his arms to move faster.

“Ward your mother!” The man with the eye-patch shouted.

He took to eratically … scribbling? … with one of his fingers in the air.

He then gestured and…

Thud

The leader of the thieves had moved less than half a dozen strides when a small block of ice materialized in front of his head – inside the protective barrier. The collision knocked him half a step back, as if punched.

“Ghfpm” He let out a strange sound and wobbled unsteadily on his feet. “H-how? Th- this is a- a ward from-”

“Child’s play!” The man with the eye-patch snobbed.

The barrier dissolved into nothing and the leader of the thieves looked around with a disoriented yet disbelieving expression.

The man with the eye-patch gestured and the remaining icicles also became projectiles.

Still, the hunchback gritted his teeth -making his hood twitch- and he jumped forward, in a brave maneuver that let him dodge the ice attacks beside two that tore his clothes.

He looking like a trapped animal though.

“It can’t be! Dismantle a ward? Only its designer can know enough to do this!” his eyes widened. ”… Are you Be-”

“HESTER KILL HIM NOW!” The man with the eye-patch roared.

Woosh – Splish

With impeccable aim, the woman threw her long dagger and it impaled the leader of the thieves right in the middle of the forehead.

His hand rose feebly, as if to try to dislodge the weapon and then collapsed forward, falling on his face.

“Hmph!” the man with the eye-patch let out a sound of derision.

Without bothering with the condition of the brutish man -or any of his living companions- he turned back to examining his previous bloodied victim, whose dripping blood had frozen over his icy prison.

“Now, where was I?”

That leering expression was so disgusting…

Enough is enough!

Johan decided he would rather kill the thieves than let them be tormented to death.

Perhaps he could save their lives… but how many innocents have they harmed? He had made too often the mistake of letting pieces of unscrupulousness go, only for them to once again make the powerless suffer. That pain, that guilt, still haunted him.

Johan tried faking a belated wariness of the fallen hunchback’s poison to edge towards the frozen thieves.

Unfortunately, the youngster took notice.

“Careful! is escaping” he cried, coming after him despite his broken wrist.

Johan was annoyed. Damnnit youngster! he thought. I saved your life! Now you decide to act brave?

Still, this gave Johan an idea: he started running as if really trying to escape.

The woman wasn’t eager to follow pursuit. She largely ignored the proceedings and retrieved some herbs from her backpack. She applied them on her wound, scowling from the pain and took a long drought out of a flask to steady herself.

The man with the eye-patch on the other hand snarled.

Woosh.

He pointed and a ball of dense twirling refractions -so dense that this time they were visible under the moonlight- propelled through the air.

Johan knew this should be a mass of magical energy; faster though less harmful than magical phenomena.

Thud

Johan turned his body and took the hit with his shoulder. He stumbled forward from the collision, past the man with the eye-patch.

Ouch!

There was one time Johan could experience magical energy the same as everyone else: when it was bludgeoned onto him.

Thankfully, this kind of attack didn’t deal much damage. At most it would cause a new bruise. Grandmaster Kenji had once brought Johan to spar with some mage disciples and he had learned this to be “… weak but easy to do. A good trick to control opponent advances.”

Woosh-thud

A new ball of energy hit Johan’s back.

Thud.

Then, another. And another.

Damn, it hurts a lot without aura! Why doesn’t he try to freeze me? I could have handled such a slow-acting attack.

Despite complaining, Johan managed to reach the frozen thieves while keeping up the powerlessness façade; he had previously decided to disrupt whichever slave business bought him and he always completed the tasks he put his mind to.

Using his body as a cover, Johan stealthily concentrated magical energy on his right elbow.

Seeing the light fade from the eyes of the thieves without the ability to shout, resist or even fall down in weakness, made Johan uneasy. But his conviction was not so light as to change from just that.

After finishing them all off, Johan fell down, faking inability to move.

Am I good at acting, or what?

However, his inner gloating was short-lived.

The man with the eye-patch continued raining balls of magical energy on him, every hit causing a new bruise.

Finally, just as the attacks lessened, he seemed to notice that the thieves were dead.

“Youu…” he growled at Johan and kept barraging with even more magical energy. He did not seem to care for wasting time in such a dangerous area.

The woman and the youngster watched the proceedings with mortified expressions.

As for Johan, he could only silently presevere without using martial aura.

Finally, the man with the eye-patch seemed to have vented enough. Or perhaps he was low on magical energy. At any rate, he stopped.

“Look, boy” he addressed the terrified youngster, “this is the way of the strong – we must step over the weak to be respected.”

The youngster could only nod his head.