Mahon squatted down and in the same movement he kicked the knee of the first noble who was rushing him. In perfect control of the situation, he adjusted his strength as the noble’s momentum was more than enough to destroy his bone and the man crumbled while screaming.

Before he even touched the ground, Mahon had already moved and effortlessly appeared within the three other attackers. He punched a throat and one of them collapsed without even realizing what hit him.

Mahon pivoted and as he accelerated he stabbed with his elbow, aiming at the brow bone of a still surprised noble. The man jolted back from the collision and joined his comrades on the ground.

The last noble finally got enough time to react and Mahon faced the first real punch decently aimed at him.

Too slow.

He ducked under the fist of his opponent and, with his fingers extended, he punched three times in the ribs. The noble bended under the pain and Mahon’s knee picked him up under the chin, throwing him a meter away, unconscious.

A shocked silence fell down as Mahon remained standing and not one of his hair was out of place. Around him, four nobles were screaming and groaning in pain while wiggling on the ground. The scene had lasted less than a few seconds, and yet the results had been unequivocal. Mahon observed the soldiers who had been watching the situation with disinterest, now looking at him with full attention.

“It seemed you were right, Methild.” Travaran finally spoke. “He’s indeed a Nightmare soldier. That will make things a bit more interesting. You five, attack him!”

Following his orders, five soldiers left the ranks and approached Mahon. Contrary to the nobles, they moved with smooth steps through the strange atmosphere of Nightmare, and instead of charging madly at him, they took the time to circle his position.

Mahon took a deep breath and focused on the situation. Travaran had been stupid not to send all his men together and so he could take down five more of them before they all came to him.

He eyed the men approaching him with caution, observing and analyzing their moves to better gauge their level. He reached a conclusion fast enough.

No need to Flow for them.

When they were three meters away from him, Mahon jolted forward in a sudden acceleration. His target was surprised, but still reacted in time. Unfortunately, he fell for Mahon’s feint and failed to block the real attack, a vicious jab in the throat.

The other soldiers rushed at them the next second, but Mahon had never stopped moving. His steps were lighting fast and his body was just a blur in the middle of the fight. When his opponents could see him properly, it was during the half second needed to take down one of them.

A lure, a lapse of awareness, a tiny imbalance or a late tempo was all Mahon needed to kill. The slightest mistakes were harnessed and used against them. Mahon moved too fast for them to even counter attack. He was too decisive, too ruthless, too powerful. And before they realized the five were reduced to one.

The last soldier found himself face to face with a grinning Mahon, two steps away from him. Swearing, he invoked his weapon and a short sword appeared in his right hand as he took a defensive posture. Mahon stepped forward and glanced, unfazed, at the weapon.

“Uh? Interesting. What are you? First Black or something?”

In front of the nonchalant monster who had disposed of his friends without breaking a sweat, the soldier panicked and stabbed in a wide move. Mahon let the blade pass harmlessly by his side before he kicked away at the hand. In the same movement, he pivoted and kicked again at the leg, bringing the man to his knee. With his two hands, he then punched downwards at the now exposed neck of his assailant and the man went limp and collapsed at his feet.

Mahon’s predatory smile sent a shiver down the spine of the warriors still surrounding him from a distance, and some of them even took a step back. Travaran looked paler, and he seemed less confident as he spoke.

“Kill him... All of you, go and kill him! Now!”

After a second of hesitation, the warriors started to invoke their own weapons. It was mostly short swords, but Mahon noticed some larger weapons. One of them even had a sword and a dagger and Mahon turned to face him.

He was the most dangerous of his opponents. The only person who had managed to invoke two full weapons was Margot, and she had been a Last White. For someone to invoke a sword and a dagger showed how good they were in Nightmare. Alone, the man wouldn’t have been such a threat and Mahon could have killed him without difficulty, but now with more than a dozen other warriors circling him, the situation was much more scary.

Time to go all out, then.

Breath in. Breath out. It was as simple at that, and yet it was way more profound. Since that awful day, Mahon had found it easier and easier to access the Flow. Time seemed to slow down and his mind seemed to expand to grasp every little detail around him.

He saw the dripping sweat, the frowns and the smiles. He heard the ragged breath, the footsteps and the thumping hearts. He felt the fear, the adrenaline and the anticipation.

He was in the right place. At the right time. Here. Now. It was his domain. His home. His tempo.

His rhythm.

A two meters long lance appeared in his hands and Mahon knew. They were the prey now.

“The Lone Wolf...” The warrior with the sword and dagger murmured.

“What?”

“Fuck you, Travaran!” The man spoke louder. “Are you trying to kill us? I have nothing to do with your family anymore.” Then he turned his face to Mahon and bowed, while dropping his weapons. “I’m sorry Lone Wolf, I swear I have no idea it was you, otherwise I would never dare… I’m leaving.”

And just like that, the warrior moved away and disappeared.

“Fucking bastard!” Travaran swore. “He had always been a stupid coward! But you don’t need him to kill that commoner! Are you really afraid of a long spear? He is alone and you’re twenty! I’ll give a hundred golds to the man who kills him!”

Still, some of the stronger warriors left without even looking back under Travaran’s insults, and soon no more than fifteen men remained. Greed had convinced them to stay. Or was it ignorance? Mahon didn’t care. The difficulty of the fight had been reduced drastically, and he was more than confident of dealing with the bunch who had stayed.

The warriors took a single step forward while observing him with caution. They knew he was stronger than every one of them, but they also knew there were fifteen and he was alone. No one wanted to be the first one to attack him and yet they still approached, greedily. One step after the other. Fortunately, Mahon was a very polite man. He knew they were afraid of making the first blow.

So he did.

In a flash, the first warrior fell, pierced by a direct stab he had never seen coming. Mahon dashed towards a second warrior and his lance twirled around his opponent’s sword in a bewitching display of agility and precision. The sword was tossed aside, harmless, whereas the lance continued his path unimpeded and through the warrior’s heart.

As if in the same move, Mahon twisted his wrist and his weapon swirled away to its next target. It was as if the lance had a life on its own and Mahon simply followed around. The weapon blocked and pierced while Mahon walked after it.

The pace was both fast and slow. Fast, because every two seconds a man was dying, and the lance countered dozens of attacks. Slow, because Mahon walked leisurely, and not a single weapon came close to threaten him.

The two realities cohabited together in a deadly yet fascinating show. The spear was a storm of steel and death while Mahon was the calm eye of the hurricane. Both were dancing with grace, but one was screaming his fury when the other was humming his control. The lance was everywhere while Mahon stayed in the same place. It jealously guarded its wielder from anyone venturing too close.

From Travaran’s point of view, Mahon seemed to be taking a stroll, his spear flashing around him, and warriors would start to fall on the ground, fatally injured. It looked like an orchestrated ballet because of how everything elegantly fit around Mahon. He was dictating a rhythm and whoever could not follow it any longer stopped moving an instant later.

The Flow was usually not so powerful, but Mahon was too immersed in its power to realize. And then it left as it came. Slow and fast. Slow, because the seconds had felt like an eternity for the dying warriors as they were slaughtered without break. Fast, because the fight had ended even before it had started.

The last warrior fell and Mahon glanced at a shocked and shivering Travaran. With the three First Red women around him, they were the only ones left standing.

“M...Monster...”

They seemed paralyzed by the sheer display of power and the massacre that had happened right before their eyes. Travaran’s face betrayed his fear and soon he was slapping his own face.

“Wake up! Wake up! Fuck!! Why can’t I wake up??!”

After a few seconds, he threw a scared glance at Mahon and ran away as fast as he could. Mahon smiled as he let him go. He was running and yet, if he wanted, Mahon could catch up in an instant. In the meantime, Zac, who hadn’t resisted turning back to watch the fight unfold, was arriving at the scene. With a thought, Mahon made his lance disappear to wherever it came from and stepped out of the battlefield and its display of agonizing corpses.

“Well, it seemed easy enough for you, you should have said it so that I could select a better spot to watch.”

Mahon glanced at his friend and a smile appeared on his lips.

“I got lucky. The stronger warriors all left before the fight.”

“Yeah, I saw that. What did you say to convince them?”

Mahon shrugged and grinned. “They came back to reason in front of my greatness.”

Zac chuckled, and he gestured towards the running nobles. “What about them now? Should we kill them?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea. If they managed to kill us, they would have gone unscathed, but if I kill them all, Rym will know. I’m the sole Nightmare warrior in the whole school.”

Zac nodded. “Right… So what? I don’t think I’m ready to meet them back in Ratho after all that.”

Mahon exhaled a loud sigh. “Me neither... I guess it’s time we gamble our duo duel.”

“What? Today?”

“Yes. I’m not sure I would stand another night with the First Red. And I wouldn’t feel safe anywhere near them. Once we’re First White, though, they wouldn’t dare make trouble for us. Let’s rest this morning and issue a challenge this afternoon after Yordar’s lesson.”

Zac went silent for some time and Mahon could see he was weighing the benefits and risks.

“You think we’re ready?”

Mahon shrugged. “We fought four cultists just the night before and we moved just fine. You can follow signs and we’re quite synchronized already. I don’t think waiting a week will give us that much of an edge. It’s now or in a month.”

Zac acquiesced. Neither of them would ever hold on for a month.

“What’s the strategy, then?”

“I think the best move would be to...”

“Wait! Wait! Actually, I have another question before that.”

Zac’s eyes moved from the battlefield to Mahon and from Mahon to the battlefield. Mahon followed his glance and the reality of what he had done only struck him now. He was discussing and joking with his friend like nothing had happened, but a dozen meters away from them, more than twenty bodies were lying on the ground in different states. Some were dead, while others were still weakly moaning in pain.

“You said you were a great Nightmare warrior, but I would never have guessed you would be able to bring down so many people at once. And these impressive warriors who just left… You’re not just a great warrior, are you?”

Mahon smiled at his friend in a false display of innocence.

Yes, there is no point holding that now.

“Some call me the Lone Wolf...”