Mahon bent to avoid a harpy plunging at his back. He pivoted on his heels as it passed by him, and his spear sliced open the volatile. He blocked a second attack with the shaft of its spear and repelled the creature towards another harpy, hindering both of them.

The tip of Mahon’s blade cut through the throat of a fourth harpy, so fast and precise the harpy was dead before blood even started to pour. Executing the fourth Step, Mahon stepped back and spun his spear widely around him, bringing another three harpies to the ground.

A pile of dead bodies was growing around him, but the harpies continued to attack him one after the other. With his Flow, Mahon kept track of Jorik, Halueth, and Ranaeril’s course as well as the trajectory of all the harpies in the vicinity.

The smell of blood and the cries of their fellow monsters lured all the harpies towards him, and the trio was completely free of running towards the cave. The pressure on Mahon increased, however, as the harpies became more numerous to dive on him.

He stepped to the side, twisted his shoulders just enough to let a talon barely graze him, and Mahon’s spear retaliated like a snake on springs. It jumped with insane speed, almost invisible to the naked eye, and snapped at the harpy’s unprotected head, piercing his skull from one end to another. The spear was back to a defensive position a blink later, and the fight resumed.

As always when Mahon was fighting with his favorite weapon, it seemed that the two were living separate lives.

Mahon was an omniscient god in a perfectly controlled environment. His motions exemplified what efficiency truly means. He never moved more than necessary, and thus he seemed to be going for a leisure stroll in the outburst of claws, teeth and wings that stormed around him. In comparison, it was almost as if he was immobile. And yet, he was always in movement.

He never stayed still. Each gesture followed the previous one spontaneously and led naturally to the next one. It was a flawless dance with death. A dance Mahon had performed many times before, and there was no doubt he would continue to do it again and again. His performance screamed his talents to the whole world.

Elegance.

Mastery.

Control.

His spear, on the other hand, was the embodiment of a wrathful cobra. It struck without warning with such speed that it could hardly be followed. The spear blurred for an instant before coming back still in Mahon’s hands, a harpy falling dead in its wake. Efficiency was still at its core, but it was clear the spear lived on another rhythm.

It wasn’t smooth and wavy. It was sudden and erratic. It moved instantly, a moment there and the next elsewhere. It bursted during a moment of inattention, always catching its prey off guard and never leaving it any chance of survival. Only death followed in its trails, but it didn’t feel like a butchery act. It felt more like a work of art.

Surgical.

Deadly.

Instantaneous.

Although so different, there was still something that linked both the spear and the man together. And that bond could be resumed with one simple word.

Efficiency.

Both, in their own ways, excelled in this craft, to an extent the harpies simply stood no chance and continued dropping like flies. They screamed, attacked, and gave their all, but nothing could be done against the duo of man and spear.

Mahon turned around, as if he was just on a leisure walk, and the harpy’s talons that had been aimed at his neck never hit him. It was close, and yet it could as well have been meters apart.

How could they reach the unreachable?

In a very natural motion, so carefree and seamless it shouldn’t even exist, Mahon swung over a dead harpy and let a living one crash at his previous position.

How could they catch elusiveness personified?

Mahon weaved between talons, claws, hooks, teeth, fangs, wings and feathers like he was the orchestrator of this deadly ballet. He was in the middle of all, his presence certain, but how could the marionettes ever comprehend the true nature of their puppeteer?

How could they get hold of an immaterial shadow?

In a flash, a head flew up in the air while a headless body crashed down to the ground. Blood didn’t even have a chance to mark the still spotless blade of the spear.

How could they dodge something they couldn’t see?

A smarter harpy than the rest tried its luck by plunging on Mahon’s back. It almost felt the pleasant satisfaction of crushing the human’s bones under its strong claws. Almost. Out of nowhere, a beam of silver caught the harpy an instant before it could dirty the spear’s immaculate master. The creature died instantly, a gaping hole in place of its heart.

How could they avoid something that read their minds?

Blows, swings, blasts, jabs, chops, and bursts rained on the relentless harpies that had no way of defending themselves. Their corpses piled on the ground, accumulating over each other without any pause as long as the silver snake fiercely defended its master. And the spear took no break in its task.

How could they outlive death itself?

The massacre continued for some time. Mahon's sheer presence proved to nature itself that there were still things that couldn’t be so easily swayed.

Still, the flux of volatiles increased with each passing second, and even if Mahon had a cheat way of escaping an encirclement, the others hadn’t. And he started having trouble holding back the growing number of harpies. Each one he killed was instantly replaced by three others, and even though they couldn’t get to him, they also slowly understood he was a really dangerous threat.

And that there were also three feeble-looking humans trying to run away discreetly.

Through his Flow Mahon witnessed a harpy ignoring him to focus on the trio. The creature didn’t make it closer than twenty meters from the group as Jorik shut it down easily with his bow. He then caught up to the two Hunters in seconds. They were both not used to sprinting and deadly situations, and Halueth had trouble following the imposed pace of the run.

One more harpy attacked the group. And then another. They got closer and closer each time until Jorik abandoned his bow and took them down with much better efficiency with his sword. But doing that, he slowed down even more, and the two Hunters started to move alone. Defenseless.

Mahon teleported out of the harpies’ encirclement leaving the volatiles stunned for a few moments, wondering where their target could have gone. They started to fight among themselves for a bit while Mahon ran towards Jorik.

He killed two harpies on the way, joined Jorik, and together they sprinted to Halueth and Ranaeril. Even though it was the middle of the day, it was slightly getting darker as a thick layer of harpies started to cover the sky.

A couple seconds later, the dumb volatiles that had fought against Mahon realized where he was, and they screamed before taking off clumsily to chase after their target. Their sudden reactions lured even more harpies towards their position.

Unfortunately, the four men were still only halfway through the distance to the cave.

“We need to move faster!” Mahon urged.

“I can’t!” Halueth panted. “Leave me here if I’m slowing you down too much.”

The old man was actually going slower and slower, gasping for air as they continued at a frantic pace to escape the harpies. But there was so much he could do, even in the face of death. His muscles protested against this sudden outburst.

“We’re not leaving you behind.” Mahon retorted.

“That’s the way of the mountains.” Halueth almost stopped running. “I don’t want to bring more to the graves to save me.”

Jorik picked up Halueth as if he weighed nothing and continued running without a care in the world.

“Shut up, you crazy fool.” The noble rebuked. “That’s not the same situation. We’re in battle now. The mountains have nothing to do with that.”

“Get rid of your bags.” Mahon ordered with a tone that suffered no discussion.

Ranaeril did as he was told, and he let his bag drop to the ground, freeing him of a dead weight and giving him enough energy to run a bit faster. Jorik kept his own bag, knowing perfectly the advice wasn’t meant for him. He could run for hours at this pace, backpack or not. Instead, he moved Halueth on his shoulders, and wrested Halueth’s bag out of his back and threw it away.

Fortunately, the old man was light, and he didn’t hinder Jorik much. Actually, something lit in his eyes, and he repositioned himself while yelling at Mahon.

“My bow! Bring me my bow!” He pointed at his backpack lying on the ground, five meters behind them.

His voice was nowhere close to the one he had previously when he had asked them to leave him behind. There was an unsuspected strength that had suddenly emerged. With more oxygen in his lungs, he was thinking clearly again.

Mahon blinked backwards, grabbed Halueth’s bow and blinked again to catch up to the three running men. He gave bow and quiver to the old man, who didn’t miss an instant before going after his arrows and firing at the harpy chasing after them.

Jorik moved his grip a bit, to leave Halueth more leeway to shoot. But at the Hunter’s level, and against so many harpies, there wasn’t even the need to aim.

Ranaeril threw a pleading look at Mahon, but the latter shook his head while laughing out loud, venting the tension of the situation.

“No way, big boy! You run on your own two legs.” He said. “As soon as you’re by the cave, start shooting, however.”

With these last words, Mahon stopped again to face the surging tide of harpies. The others threw him one last look before he got drowned under the volatiles, and he started fighting for his life.

This time, he had even more trouble holding the creatures at bay. They were pressuring him from all sides, their sheer numbers pushing them against him. Harpies tried to avoid the lethal blows of his spear, but pressured by their peers they were forced to move towards him.

Soon, Mahon had to teleport back or risk getting lost in a hurricane of claws, teeth and wings. The harpies were so numerous they were actually hurting themselves more than fighting him, but that was even more dangerous for Mahon. There was nothing he could do against a mass of flesh tearing apart everything in its way.

And the more harpies there were, the more harpies circumvented him to reach for the three running men. Jorik was too focused on holding Halueth and running to really fight and protect them. The old man with his bow was the only rampart against the harpies that passed by Mahon.

A couple seconds later, Mahon was forced to teleport a few times in a row to catch up to the group and intervene before harpies submerged them. He threw his quiver to Halueth who dropped an empty one to the ground.

It seemed as if it was the night now, as every corner of the sky was full of flying harpies. It was like someone had kicked the hornets’ nest except it was harpies. Ten times deadlier. Hundred times bigger, Thousand times more numerous.

“By the Fada, how could there be so many of them?” Mahon swore.

The only thing that kept the group running was that the cave was now in sight. Without this visible hope, they would have given up by now. It was a matter of minutes, or even seconds, before the harpies would shred them to nothingness.

Mahon stopped one last time to face the gigantic tsunami of harpies that chased after them. With his Flow, he forgot about keeping track of Ranaeril, Halueth and Jorik. For what he was prepared to do, he needed all his concentration and power.

Let’s hope it works better this time.

He positioned his spear in front of him, holding it with one hand, and resting the rest of the shaft on his forearm. The spear was pointed towards the incoming monsters. Mahon closed his eyes for a second.

One second during which time seemed to stop. One second of intense focus. One second where he became one with his Flow.

When he opened his eyes, they were glowing with a strange light, brightening his blue and green iris with a vivid hue.

Mahon then swung his spear, and it slowly moved through the air as if it weighed tons.

Half a dozen harpies died on the spot. But the spear had never even touched them for they were still three meters away.

Mahon sped up his motions. He wielded his spear around, and each blow disposed of the same number of harpies each time. He got engulfed an instant later by the whirlwind of fangs and talons.

But this time they didn’t manage to overwhelm it.

The spear killed by the dozens, hitting blindly in the mass of monsters. It lasted for a handful of seconds, but during this time the ranks of the harpies seemed to get reduced. The monsters were cleared faster than they reappeared.

It didn’t last long, though, as the black cloud of harpies dived towards Mahon like the hand of a gigantic god, determined to put an end to his life.

But Mahon had lasted long enough. Halueth, Ranaeril and Jorik were now inside the cave, waiting worriedly for him as they shot vainly at the countless harpies surrounding him.

Mahon teleported away just before the harpies crashed on him. Two Steps later, and he fell on his knees, panting, inside the cave. Jorik grabbed him by the armpits and pulled him further inside, Halueth and Ranaeril in tows.