Veinfire surged through the bandit's arms—hot, angry, desperate.
Nyric braced. "Kael," he muttered under his breath, "get ready to run."
The bandit hurled his hammer, spinning it toward the man across from him. It grew rapidly mid-flight, swelling like a boulder in motion.
The man didn't move. The hammer loomed over him like a falling mountain.
BOOM—
The hammer struck, exploding into dust. Shards of metal, sharp as arrows, burst out, pelting the man now cloaked in debris.
Coughing, the bandit stepped back, veinfire flaring again in his hands.
As the dust cleared, the man stood untouched, calmly brushing specks from his cloak like it was a minor inconvenience.
The bandit slammed both hands onto the ground. Veinfire surged into the earth.
"You're too arrogant," he muttered.
"Oh really, no—" the man began, but the ground erupted around him. Four stone walls shot upward, sealing into a cube.
The bandit soared high into the air, a massive hammer of rock forming in his grip as he rose.
At the peak of his jump, he looked down, smirked, and brought the hammer down in a crushing arc, slamming into the cube.
Spreading his arms, he shouted, "Burrowed Technique: Compression Chamber!" and clapped.
The cube jerked upward and began shrinking, compressed tighter and tighter.
Kael watched in horrified awe as the cube reduced, smaller with every breath, until it could fit in a palm. It struck the earth with a deep, bone-rattling thump, shaking the valley and kicking up dust.
When the dust cleared, Kael saw the cube nestled in a crater. It looked innocuous in size, but his senses screamed otherwise.
It radiated mass, immense and terrible. It was like looking at a mountain compressed into a stone.
And the man—the man who had tried to save them—was gone.
Kael's heart sank. Was he really… dead?
But then…
I-Is it dumb? Kael thought, eyes drifting to the Skyrazor still hovering in the air. It just let its master die?
"By the gods," Nyric whispered behind him.
Kael turned. Nyric's eyes were wide, pale with disbelief.
Following his gaze, Kael stumbled back.
The man was now standing where the bandit had been.
The bandit was gone.
Kael's head spun. What...? Am I hallucinating? No—Nyric saw it too.
The man gave a casual wave, pointing to his right and mouthing, Shouldn't you help your friends?
Kael turned—and froze.
The other bandits were dead. Bodies littered the ground, riddled with holes. The surviving mercenaries sat nearby, stunned into silence.
Rasterk chuckled from where he sat, his opponent collapsed in front of him, blood seeping from multiple wounds.
A figure approached the man from Rasterk's direction. Her stride was confident, fluid. Kael could tell she was female by her frame—sleek and honed like a blade. Her black bodysuit hugged her figure, revealing strength beneath grace. A dark mask hid her face, but her bright blue hair was tied into a high ponytail, strands dancing like skyfire in the breeze.
She bowed respectfully to the man before leaping onto the Skyrazor.
Kael blinked.
"All right then," the man said, turning to them. His voice was light, almost lazy. "The road is safe now. Good job holding on."
Kael didn't respond. His thoughts were still spinning.
"But," the man added, clicking his tongue, "it wouldn't have mattered if I didn't get here in time. So I saved you. Which means… you owe me. But hey, it's my duty after all."
Kael stared, caught in the strange blend of bravado and quiet menace.
"Oh well," the man sighed. "Just remember—you owe your lives to me. So live them well. And don't forget to have fun… more importantly, don't forget that you owe me a favor."
He turned, cloak flaring dramatically behind him. "Remember the name of the one who saved you—this fashionable drunk!"
He leapt onto the Skyrazor.
"What's your name, good sir?" the merchant called out.
The bird beat its wings once—and vanished, leaving a spiraling gust of wind and dust behind.
"Shameless drunk," Nyric muttered.
"Shouldn't you be more grateful?" Kael raised a brow. "He saved our lives."
"Well, it's his duty," Rasterk replied with a smirk, walking over.
Kael frowned.
Rasterk chuckled. "Sorry, but those mounts are only used by Ashspire's special patrol."
Kael's eyes widened. "The ones who were supposed to have cleared the bandits?"
Nyric nodded grimly.
"He still saved us, though," Kael said quietly.
"Yeah… after using us as bait," Nyric muttered.
"What?" the merchant asked, confused.
"You think it's a coincidence he showed up just now? Those patrols don't come this close to the capital. He's been following us since Brassgate," Rasterk said.
"And once the fighting started, he waited until the main force appeared and we wore them down. He should be thanking us," Nyric added.
"It could be a coincidence…" Kael murmured, finally sitting. Exhaustion dragged at his limbs. His arm hung limp at his side.
"Whatever. It's still his duty," Rasterk said.
The merchant suddenly stood, scanning the group with anxious eyes. "Has anyone seen my nephew? Elyas?"
His voice cracked. "Elyas!?"
A faint voice answered. "Here."
The merchant spun. Elyas stood shakily beside a boulder.
He rushed to the boy, falling to his knees and pulling him into a fierce embrace. "Oh, thank the godness! Are you hurt? Why did you run off like that? I thought—"
He choked up, shoulders trembling, grief and relief tangled in his voice.
Kael watched in silence… and smiled.
"We lost more than half," Nyric said softly.
Ling came running, his shoulder bandaged with a torn cloth. "Glad to see you survived, kid. I still get my Retyit painting." He smiled as he knelt beside Kael, tearing another strip of cloth to wrap his arm with gentle care.
"Luckily, we're close to Ashspire. We'll find a healer soon," Ling added, glancing toward Anita, who lay unconscious on a makeshift bed.
"But we need to move fast," Nyric murmured grimly.
Kael didn't respond.
He just stared down the road ahead, thoughts churning, heart still pounding from the chaos.
Just what was that man…?