I sprinted down the dirt road lined with various one and two-story buildings on both sides. Wooden signs on short poles stuck out into the air above the road at irregular intervals, painted in black with the symbols for food, clothes, tools, and more. I sniffed the scent of roasted meats with smoky, caramelized fat as I passed by one of the shops, and my stomach growled.

We needed that money. My belly needed that money.

"Hey!" I shouted.

The black-clad figure paused to look back at me. I crouched, spooling my qi around my legs before leaping onto the roof of what must have been a tailor's shop from the sign of a needle and thread. I missed my footing but rolled and was back up and running without missing a beat. A low, jagged mud brick wall surrounding the rooftop, crumbling or unfinished. I hurdled over it to reach the next building.

The sword artist-turned-thief led me on a chase over the rooftops along the unending line of buildings, jumping across the wider gaps where a path or road would split the rooftops. I followed relentlessly but couldn't close the distance, and he maintained a steady lead of about twenty yards. The streets weren't too busy, and hardly anyone paid us any attention. The sight of two sword artists chasing each other was, unfortunately, not that uncommon of an event in Sanctum.

Gradually, the buildings changed from the drab color of mud and wood to fancier brick and stone structures, some even in expensive paints of white, yellow, or blue. The city was taller in this wealthier quarter, with most buildings three, four, or even five stories high.

The sun was low enough on the horizon by now to cast sharp shadows against a backdrop of orange-red light. The words floating in my sight had vanished sometime during the chase, too, but I hadn't noticed exactly when.

We approached one of the taller white buildings, likely the residence of an influential noble, shaped like a miniature castle. There were four small towers capped with black roofs, one at each corner, and an outer section of wall. A smaller house rose even higher from the middle of the building like a keep. The whole building spanned the entire block.

The thief ran up the wall, his body perpendicular to the vertical walls. Golden light peeked out from his ankles just below his pants.

I grimaced. Just my luck. Qi etchings.

I wasn't eager to damage some noble's property, but enough was enough. I drew Terminus and chipped off a corner piece of the stone rooftop I was racing across. A fist size chunk of gray rock flew through the air, shattering against the white wall two feet above the thief's head. I sent another piece of stone quickly afterward.

He got the message. The thief ran sideways instead of up, his feet still clinging to the miniature castle's wall like a spider. I dashed forward, sending another two pieces of broken rooftops at him.

When I reached the castle wall, I ran along its length for five steps, like the thief had, before I had to loop back to the ground. Generating a strong enough binding to the wall with pure qi was outside the range of my skill, or really any traditionalist. I didn't blame others for resorting to purchased alchemical power, but it still grated on my nerves, especially at being outrun by a thief.

I sent three quick strikes into the white wall, each sending a razor-sharp stone chip. These were much smaller than the ones I had sent before, but ten times as fast.

The thief dodged the first two, but the last one clipped him in the back of his left calf. He stumbled but made no sound as he fell. He slapped the wall hard with one palm, and I could make out a soft golden glow where his hand contacted the painted surface. He slid down to the ground, landing lightly on his feet.

I shot forward with Terminus, not stopping until its point was an inch from the thief's throat. I held out my hand.

"The pouch."

The dying daylight lit up two emerald orbs peeking out of the cloth-bound head and face. They flickered from me, to my sword, and then to the side. The thief pointed a finger at the white wall.

A voice, younger than I had expected, spoke. "Vox won't be happy with you scratching up his place."

I took that to mean Vox was noble who owned this oversized house. It was true that nobles could be quite troublesome, but I wouldn't be caught holding the short end of the stick. I flicked Terminus, ever so slightly, tapping the end against the thief's lower jaw.

"Enough talking. Hand over the pouch, and I won't tell Vox that I caught a thief breaking into his home." It wasn't an idle threat. The nobles hated thieves. They tended to chop off the hands of anyone they caught.

"That's a lie. I never broke in." The thief tilted his head to one side. "I thought traditionalists didn't lie."

He had spunk, stealing from a sword artist and mouthing off with a blade at his throat. Or maybe he was just a careless fool. There were plenty of others who would deem it just to slit his throat and take back the stolen pouch.

"We don't, which is why Vox will believe me." I smiled.

The green eyes narrowed. "That's hardly fair."

This had gone on for too long. I slashed quickly with Terminus, delivering a hard rap to the knuckles of the fist wrapped around Elder Gri's coin pouch. The thief yelped softly and let go. I caught the pouch with my blade before it hit the ground, flinging it backward into my free left hand.

I had purposely given the thief an opening to run away, but to my surprise, he attacked. I barely had time to avoid a pair of long daggers he had pulled out, both painted black like the ones assassins uses. Or thieves, too, in this case. Each blade was about two feet long, halfway between a sword and dagger.

"Are you crazy?" I hissed as I blocked a stab from the right and dodged another one from the left.

"I won't give up so easily." The thief finished his sentence with a slash at my eyes.

I ducked and countered with a sweeping cut to the legs, but the thief jumped onto the wall next to us, running sideways like an insect again while fending off my strikes.

He was fast and slippery. He dropped to the ground, then caught my foot with a kick. I slashed downwards at the ground, both to attack him as well as to push off and keep from tripping. When I swung Terminus back upward, I sent a small amount of qi into the sword, coating in with a golden light.

The thief had seen what Terminus could do. As I expected, he jumped back. We stared at each other, unmoving, for a moment.

"Look, this is mine, not yours." I shook the pouch clenched in my left hand. "Scram, or someone's going to get hurt."

He didn't budge, instead cracking his neck. "I hate losing."

I rolled my eyes. "You're obviously a sword artist. Don't you have something better to do?"

"What, like you? Whoring myself out for street fights?"

I tried not to wince. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. When we first arrived at the capital city, I had expected more. If not a fortune, at least a change in fortune. Opportunities or jobs. Something, anything.

Except with the spread of alchemy, newer sword artists no longer needed years of disciplined training. There was a glut of these cheap practitioners. The rich nobles monopolized any prestigious job. The undesirables took over the rest. The same forces that had led to the decline of us traditionalists were even more magnified in Sanctum. I wasn't sure why I, or any of the elders, had ever expected otherwise.

The hunger and jeers I could take, but what bothered me the most was the fact that my progress as a sword artist had all but ceased since arriving at the capital. Elder Gri had little more to teach me, and fighting low-lifes and has-beens wasn't exactly top-tier training. The more powerful sword artists relied on brute strength or other work arounds, like the qi etchings on the thief. There wasn't much to learn from them.

Or was there?

"Fight me," I said. "If you win, you can keep the coins."

The thief crossed his arms. His daggers point outward beneath each armpit from that position. "Who's the crazy one now?"

"I won't use my sword's full power." I nodded to the castle-like home. "We'll fight up there. On the rooftop."

He would have an advantage with his wall climbing technique, but I didn't sense any overt malice or bloodlust. Just an intense desire to win, and, of course, to steal my money. He was skilled, in his own way, more than any of the street fighters I had battled recently. The duel would be worth the price, even if he won. I'd figure out how to deal with Elder Gri later, if that happened.

"Vox won't like it," the thief said.

"Something tells me that you don't care what Vox thinks."

The thief chuckled once. "The whole pouch?" he asked.

I nodded. "All of it."

"Meet you at the top." The thief ran up the white walls, now a dull gray by the dying light.

I took a few steps backwards for a running start, then jumped up to the corner tower, rebounding off that section of the building to jump once more and reach the top of the outer wall. I paused to search for guards, but none were present. I spotted motion on the far side of the building, but whoever was there didn't care what was happening, or they were content to watch as spectators.

The wall itself was about three feet across, easily wide enough to walk along. The outer side was a sheer drop-off to the street below. The inner side dropped about ten feet to a lower section of stone roof.

I had barely gotten my bearings when the thief attacked.

He barreled forward with both daggers held low, their points toward me. I feinted with a jab, trying to force him to stay at a distance, but he spun past my guard, his body twirling like a top. He held his daggers out as he spun, and I had to retreat two steps to avoid getting slashed across my belly.

The thief gave me no time to recover. A kick, a stab, and another kick swiftly followed in succession, with each attack accompanied by a roll, slide, or shuffle to bring him within my guard again. I contorted my body to block or dodge each attack. When he pushed off from the ground like a striking snake, with both daggers aimed at my midsection, I had no choice but to leap backward to create more space between us, putting my back to the corner tower.

It had been a while since I had fought someone with short blades, or rather, that someone with short blades had been willing to fight me. If this had been a fight to the death, he would have risked losing his hands, daggers, or both to my sword, but he must have sensed I wouldn't go that far unnecessarily. Even if he was a thief.

Besides, victory alone wasn't the point. It was how I won that would push me further along my path as a sword artist. Still, it wouldn't do to have him think he could be unfairly reckless. His strikes were too straight, too lacking in geometry.

The next time he lunged at me, I whirled Terminus in a corkscrew around the dagger, slicing a winding cut around the black fabric of his sleeve. He jerked back his arm as if hurt, but I would have known if Terminus had tasted blood. It hadn't.

He swiftly cut off the hanging fabric, revealing faintly glowing yellow lines running parallel down his right forearm.

"Fight properly," I said, frowning at the sight. "Someone else could have taken your hand."

I didn't consider qi etchings to be cheating, exactly, but the years I had spent opening my channels and preparing my core to become a Master had taught me lessons that couldn't be bought in the course of a week. Qi etchings were a shortcut to raw power, false channels as it were. Like a sword, they were only as good as the user.

The thief replied by somersaulting over my head, a brash and showy move, to land upside down on the tower behind me with his feet planted against the wall. He slashed at me with both daggers while still bent over backwards dangling from his feet. I twisted to parry the ridiculous strikes. He dashed around the corner tower and disappeared before I could counterattack.

A small sound from behind alerted me. I turned to find the thief flinging himself over the wall with his daggers aimed at me again. He was fast, having somehow zipped around the tower and climbed back up the wall to flank me in under a second.

I knocked the first dagger away, then the second. He kicked at my face while both of our weapons were to the side, but I was ready for it this time and blocked his foot with my left forearm. I wasn't ready, however, for his foot sticking to my arm with a golden glow of qi. He yanked me forward off-balance, angling his daggers at the same time to stab me as he drew me in.

Terminus flared with golden light as I plunged it a full foot into the rooftop's surface. I used the leverage from Terminus to pull back him back and swing the thief's entire body into the tower. He let go of my arm as he smashed into the wall, but I immediately drew Terminus out of the roof and whacked him with the flat of the blade across his midsection.

The thief muffled cry went silent as he tumbled over the edge of the building. It was a good five stories to the ground, but I wasn't worried about him. I put away Terminus and took a few steps away from the wall's edge, waiting.

Exam qualifications: 2/3

I blinked. Those blue letters again. I needed to find Elder Gri and see if he could make sense of this.

I waited maybe half a minute. The letters vanished, but no thief appeared in the meantime. I cautiously approached the edge of the building's roof and leaned over to scan the dark street. There was still no sign of him. Well, that was enough for tonight's fun. I had learned one more thing, at least. I had never seen anyone use a wall-walking technique on another person like that before.

I prepared to leap down, when someone shouted from behind.

"Halt, thief!"

The sun was nearly below the horizon now, and a dim red glow was the only lighting here. Then, the rooftop around me flared with the brilliant blue alchemical lights that the wealthy favored. I had to shield my eyes for a moment against the sudden change in brightness.

Someone cackled with laughter from another direction. On the next block over to my right, in the darkness, I could make out the silhouette of a slender figure against the crimson sky. The thief. He was waving at me from another rooftop.

"Hurry, partner!" the thief shouted. He leaped over the building's side, disappearing into the shadows of the street.

For an instant, I wasn't sure what the thief had meant. Then, I turned to find a man dressed in a silver tunic with golden trim dashing straight towards me. His body was covered with golden qi etchings that nearly matched the color of his short blond hair, and he held a greatsword with a jewel-crusted hilt by a single hand high above his head.

"Thief!" he roared.

I pointed in the direction the thief had gone. "That way!" But the nobleman, Vox I presumed, only roared louder as he continued his charge towards me. The greatsword burst into flickering yellow flames.

"Oh, come on," I muttered.

Win the battle, lose the war? I had no idea how the thief had set the nobleman on me in so short a time. He was fast and wily. I had to give him that. Perhaps I shouldn't have been so lenient, even if I had a soft spot for my fellow sword artists.

I held both hands up in the universal gesture of peace. "You've got the wrong one. He's getting away."

Either he couldn't hear me over his wild yelling, or he didn't care. The nobleman screamed as he slashed downward with his blazing sword.

"To the Void with you, scum!"