The mood shifted considerably once Nasir appeared.

The sneer of Pavel’s face wavered, then disappeared as he felt his overwhelming combat advantage slip away from between his fingers.

He lowered his stance, a telltale sign that he was about to pounce upon Nasir. Whether this was a conscious action or a mere instinctual movement, Malt couldn’t tell.

Regardless of the reason, Nasir responded in kind.

The blue sparks and ethereal mist that had been appearing around him just prior promptly gathered around the end of his cane, glowing bright and pulsating violently.

This display discouraged Pavel, to say the least. He slowly eased out of the position, but the tension in his body and expression remained the same.

His lips curved into a forced smile, one that didn’t pair well with his panic riddled eyes.

“What, you going senile, old man?”

He pressed on despite the older man’s lack of response.

“You know what’s gonna happen now, don’t you? It’d be a shame if something were to happen to Anna, it really would y’know.”

His desperate attempts to ward away Nasir spoke volumes about Nasir’s strength, not that Malt had questioned it in the first place.

From the moment they’d met, he could tell that the greying man was no regular person. The way he spoke, and the way he carried himself with a certain air of confidence one could only find in someone at the pinnacle of their field.

Malt had noticed that on their first meeting, just for a split second, the man’s eyes darted around his body, taking note of certain areas of interest, some of which being his hip and arms.

It was a trained and almost instinctual action, one that he’d no doubt performed on every person he met. In that fraction of a second, he searched for any possible weapons and evaluated his physique. He had the self restraint to reach for his cane whilst doing so, but there was no doubt in Malt’s mind that had he presented himself as a threat in any way, he’d be dead before he could move an inch.

Malt only knew this was true due to personal experience, he was trained to do the same after all.

In a place like the southern front, where the combat area included many small villages and hamlets that were very much still populated, one could find themselves surrounded by the enemy and not even be aware of it. Every hooded person, every villager that had suspiciously pale skin or an uncharacteristically built physique could be a Khod in disguise.

He still kept the mantra Stromund had told him close to him at all times, even now when he wasn’t technically a soldier: “be friendly with everyone you meet, but always have a plan to dispatch them if need be.”

It was a paranoid, and morally troublesome philosophy to follow, but old habits die hard.

From all of this, he could almost immediately tell that Nasir had a past military career, and likely an extensive one at that.

Knowing this, it wasn’t very surprising to find that he wasn’t going to retreat simply because of some brat’s threats.

Pavel, somehow thinking that going on would somehow scare the man away, continued.

“I guess you really don’t care about your little girl anymore do you?”

Nasir’s expression remained the same.

“I very much do, excuse you. I just figured that this would be the best opportunity to put you back into your place.”

Pavel’s inner turmoil seemed to have reached a climax. He no longer forced a smile, although one still remained on his horribly strained face.

The fact that he hadn’t retreated yet meant that either one, he knew he wouldn’t be able to escape in the first place, or two, he still figured he had a chance to succeed.

And judging by the way that his crazed eyes locked onto Malt, his intention became clear.

Malt had only a millisecond to react. He could only manage to lower his stance by the time Pavel was upon him.

None of the earlier offensives could hold a candle to the flurry of swipes Pavel was dishing out now. Malt had the inkling that Pavel was only playing with him earlier, and considering the rate at which he was going now, it was safe to assume that guess as accurate.

Dodging all of these was placing a heavy toll onto his already beaten body, and calling it dodging in the first place would be putting it nicely. Cuts now peppered his clothing and flesh, ranging from smaller, superficial cuts, to few that would be potentially dangerous if left untreated for any longer.

Despite this, he didn’t panic. This was because he didn’t need to defeat Pavel anymore.

He simply needed to buy time.

And a few seconds, and a few more painful lacerations later, the real damage dealer truly entered the fray.

He felt the hairs raise on the back of his neck. He didn’t need to turn around, the sapphire tint in Pavel’s wide eyes told him all he needed to know about the situation.

More magical projectiles passed overhead, no doubt coming from Nasir, who was situated behind him.

As Pavel Swiftly disengaged, he sighed a breath of relief.

But the attack didn’t end there. The blue projectiles, this time resembling orbs more than anything else, swarmed around Pavel. They weren’t nearly as fast nor as numerous as the previous spell, but these seemed to have a mind of their own, circing and tracking Pavel even as he scurried away with that inhuman speed of his.

Although intrigued by the fascinating magic, Malt was more thankful that he could get some respite more than anything.

Or at least that’s what he’d thought. Nasir’s steely voice called out from behind him.

“C’mere, lad.”

Without turning around, Malt backstepped all the way to nasir without turning away from the still struggling Pavel.

“Catch.”

Malt’s hand instinctively reached out, and he felt a long, hefty object make contact with his palm.

He needn’t even look at the object, the moment his fingers curled around its thin, rigid scabbard, he knew what it was.

In spite of himself, his lips curved into a slight grin.

He practically ripped the sheath off, revealing a straight,cold grey blade.

The steel of the blade itself was quite unextraordinary.

At a glance, it seemed to be made of regular steel, with the caveat that a thin, transparent rod ran down the fuller of both sides.

But Malt could tell simply by holding it, the sword was of an extremely high quality. It’s balance was superb, so much so that when he wiggled it’s tip around in an attempt to feel it’s dimensions, the point seemed to immediately fwip to wherever he wanted it to with little to no input from his arms.

It was slightly shorter than a longsword, the grip being just long enough to comfortably accommodate both his hands with space inbetween in order to take advantage of leverage.

It was nothing like the munitions grade weapons he’d wielded and trained with thus far, in fact its quality was almost on par with Geld’s twin scimitars, which he had the privilege of touching, if only for a few minutes.

The various superficial nicks and scratches on the blade showed that it had seen extensive use before, but seeing as none of the damages were jagged or rough, it likely hadn’t seen use in a long, long time.

Nasir wasted no time, already readying another spell.

“I need you to stop his movements for a second. It doesn’t have to be long, just make sure that I’ve got a clear shot before committing. This’ll probably be our last chance before things get hairy.”

The small grin disappeared from Malt’s face.

“Hold up, how do you expect me to-”

Nasir’s staff whacked the top of his head, inciting a small yelp from the boy.

“You ask too many questions, just get in there and start flailing that sword around, you’re good at that at least, aren’t you?”

Malt let out a sigh. It wasn’t a suggestion, it was an order.

The only reason he stayed silent was because he knew Nasir had something planned, or at least that’s the vibe he was giving off.

Things were starting to calm down on Pavel’s end. Many of the orbs had simply lost track of him, leaving only a handful to keep him occupied.

Malt knew that if he were to engage, it was highly unlikely that he could engage Pavel and avoid the orbs at once, so he stood his ground.

Having only a few seconds left, he glanced at the sword once again as the sight of Nasir’s spells played in his mind.

“Y’know, I find myself wondering if I’m really even necessary here. By the looks of it, seems like you can take care of a brat like him solo.”

He heard a slight chuckle from behind him.

“That may have been true thirty years ago, but I’m not exactly in my prime anymore. My magic’s still fine, but my body? Not so much. I need someone to do the fighting for me now.”

Malt grinned wryly.

“So basically, I’m the chaff that gets thrown at the enemy to buy you time then.”

“I would’ve called it being a vanguard to make you feel better, but yes that’s basically what it boils down to.”

The greying man’s ability to give witty remarks even during combat impressed him, but that wasn’t what he should’ve been thinking about at the time.

Pavel had just gotten rid of the last of the orbs, sweating and panting with frustration clear in his face.

Perhaps because of this, or because he knew another spell would undoubtedly be coming if he waited around any longer, he barreled toward Malt once again, not even having the time nor breath to taunt him as he usually did.

Malt made sure his feet were firmly planted, and that his stance was perfectly balanced and poised to receive the attack that would be coming.

He raised the sword so that it was parallel with his ear, hanging the tip slightly downward.

If he wanted to have any chance of parrying Pavel’s blows, which was necessary if he wanted to stop his movements, he would need to effectively make use of all his meagre advantages.

Using a two-handed sword gave him the advantage of leverage, and the stance he was currently in could press this advantage to its maximum, though it would leave him horribly exposed if he failed.

He needn’t be stronger than Pavel, he just needed to muster enough force to redirect the blade, which was much easier said than done.

Even as Pavel raised his sword arm and entered striking distance, Malt wasn’t sure he could muster the strength.

Yet he put his confidence in Nasir anyway.

Pavel’s sword came down with blinding speed, almost invisible save for a single bright flash as it caught the sun.

Just before it could split open his head like a coconut, Malt mustered all his strength and pushed one hand upward whilst yanking down with the other, prying the blade upward with every muscle in his body.

A deafening clang resounded as the two blades clashed with one another, releasing a blinding cloud of sparks as they did so.

Where Malt had expected to be met with immovable resistance, he instead felt almost nothing.

He looked in confusion as his blade carried through with its upward arch, having pushed the other blade back where it came from.

Sure, his sword was the heavier of the two, but with the force Pavel could exert dwarved his own, so what exactly had happened?

He could see the same confusion in Pavel’s eyes, they were both similarly dumbfounded as to what had just occurred.

That is until a hint of blue caught Malt’s eye.

The transparent material lining his blade’s fuller shone brilliant blue, the same characteristic azure that Nasir’s magic had.

From that alone, he could more or less figure out what had happened, and it seemed like so could Pavel.

A violent grin unconsciously spread across Malt’s face.

The tide had turned. For the first time, he would be on the offensive.