19

  Hunted

  Adam walked down the cobblestoned street as evening fell, keeping an unhurried pace, his posture loose and relaxed even with the sword hanging at his hip. To passersby, he looked like an adventurer out for a leisurely stroll, with his adventurer’s license swinging from the necklace that Katryn had made for him. Inwardly, however, he was anything but calm. His eyes constantly darted from face to face in the crowd, anticipating an attack, and his hand never strayed far from the sword, valuing the sense of security it provided.

  It had been two days since Elsa departed for her mission outside the kingdom, and there had only been silence. No sign of Julius, no sign of the Hand, just two days in which nothing had happened. Still, Adam knew that didn’t mean he was safe, far from it. He took the silence to mean they were taking their time to plan, to set up whatever trap they intended for him, and there was nothing more dangerous than a prepared enemy. He couldn’t afford to lower his guard—not even for a second—or it could be the end. Perhaps only temporary, but he didn’t know that for sure. His resurrection was still a complete mystery; he couldn’t be reckless or casual simply because there was a possibility he might return to life.

  Trusting something so uncertain would be the height of foolishness.

  So, while he waited for the inevitable strike, Adam had also made some plans of his own. It was nothing concrete—he couldn’t predict how an attack might come—but he had devised contingencies to give himself at least a chance to escape if he couldn’t prevail, and part of that plan was to avoid lingering in a single place for too long.

  He’d spent most of the last forty-eight hours in and out of the inn. Katryn noticed, of course. At one point, when he’d returned for a quick lunch, she had asked him about his disappearance, and he’d just told her that it was training, nothing more. She hadn’t pressed him after that, but he doubted she believed him. Adam told himself it was caution—if an attack happened, he didn’t want it to be at the inn, he didn’t want her or her mother getting caught in it. And while that was true, he had a larger reason; staying in one place made him easier to capture or kill. He hated the idea of sitting still, of waiting quietly for the hammer to fall. It was why he hadn’t considered hiding out somewhere. This was their kingdom, he was an outsider. There was no chance he knew it better than they did. A hiding place would just become a trap and a place to die if they found it. Hiding and waiting felt like surrender; movement was unpredictable, and unpredictability would be his weapon.

  He also hadn’t been wandering around aimlessly. He’d scouted a few potential advantages while he moved through the city, places he could turn to his favor in a fight, locations where he might lead his attackers if pursued. He didn’t for a second think that he was invisible in the crowd—nor did he want to be—he wanted them to find him. He might not know how he was going to be attacked, but when it happened, he wanted to control as much of it as possible… he wanted to end everything in one fell swoop.

  Amid his wandering, Adam also took care of a few matters that had been weighing on his mind. He visited the Adventurers’ Guild. The clerk he’d met his first day there had seemed pleasantly surprised to see him again, then promptly asked why he hadn’t yet taken a quest and reminded him, again, that if he didn’t take one within three months, his license would be revoked. But that wasn’t the reason he’d gone. He wasn’t interested in wandering into the wilderness for goblin ears or escort duty, he had gone to confirm whether he could advance his adventurer tier with a recommendation from a Gold-Rank knight.

  The clerk had told him before that recommendations could fast-track an adventurer to higher tiers, and since he needed to be at least on the sixth tier before he could climb the Tower of Heaven, he had hoped Elsa’s recommendation would be enough to carry him that far. But apparently, it wasn’t. A Gold-Rank’s recommendation had some weight, but only to get him “specially” considered. To advance, he still had to prove himself, and that meant completing quests. It was a disappointing visit, but at least he’d gotten answers.

  Adam had also made it a point to visit Lorelei’s home. He didn’t need to be an expert at relationships to know that going silent for days after they’d been intimate could be easily misinterpreted, and when they met, he’d been glad for his intuition as he had seen the relief in her eyes; it was clear she had been worried. He hadn’t stayed long with her, just enough for small talk and updates about Julius—there were none—and the presence of the children had kept any adult activity from happening, but she still sent him off with a kiss.

  He’d also gone to the Knight Order and the Church of the Divine, two vast structures whose scale had reminded him that—aside from the castle—they were the foundation of this kingdom. At the Knight Order, he hadn’t learned much; it was like a command center, crowded with knights moving in and out of offices, carrying reports rather than swords. He surmised this was where Elsa had attended that Gold-Rank meeting the other day. He took mental notes on the military presence and the general atmosphere. He didn’t intend to start a fight, but with how rotten some of the knights were, he could never be too prepared. The Church was a different matter, he had wandered around outside the cathedral, taking note of weak points and potential routes, planning for the day he would slip inside.

  In that sense, the past forty-eight hours of simply walking the city had been fruitful; every step, every detour, had served a purpose. The time had also helped him replenish his reservoir of dark energy. It was nowhere near full, but it hovered near the halfway baseline once more, and after Elsa’s warning he’d resisted the urge to run further tests on his new ability—what he’d decided to call shadow-warp—choosing instead to conserve it.

  Slipping into the shadows of dark alleys, sliding along walls, sensing every presence and motion; the ability was intoxicating, almost godlike, but it drank from him like a leech, and the recovery time left much to be desired. So, until he learned to draw more dark energy on his own, shadow-warp would have to be used with care and restraint. Still, he had no doubt it would decide the outcome when the inevitable attack came.

  Adam continued walking, emerging onto a bustling street where merchants shouted over carts piled with trinkets, children darted between legs, and a pair of city guards leaned lazily against a wall. He moved with the crowd, never staying at the edges, never alone for more than a few strides. He didn’t think it would deter a ruthless and cold-blooded attacker, but the more bodies between him and a fire-bolt or lightning strike, the better.

  Just then, Adam’s gaze swept across the crowd and snagged on a figure that towered head and shoulders above the rest. A giant of a man, with something that resembled a black spider tattooed on his clean-shaven head. He recognized the man instantly, it was the same brute he had seen at the warehouse, the one Julius had been lashing at before he had been kidnapped. There was no mistaking him; the man’s sheer size and that distinctive spider tattoo were too memorable. They locked eyes at the exact same time, and for a moment, the street noises seemed to fade. The man’s thick brows rose in recognition, then he smiled.

  No, it could hardly even be called a smile, it was more the satisfied twitch of a hunter spotting prey that had wandered back into range. The man didn’t chase after him, however, he just advanced slowly. That was good. Adam didn’t run, he turned smoothly down a side street, quickening his pace just enough to appear panicked to the giant. He kept his hand near the sword hilt and his jaw tightened hard, but he steeled his nerves, focusing on his plan, on simply putting one foot in front of the other for now. It was alright. He had always known they would find him eventually, he’d planned for exactly this.

  He noticed the shift behind him, the subtle parting of bodies, the weight of multiple stares. He risked a glance over his shoulder and the man was moving quicker, parting the crowd like a ship through water. And he wasn’t alone, two hooded figures suddenly peeled away from a fruit stall and Adam caught a glimpse of their faces, quickly recognizing them as the two Silver-Rank knights that had briefly been guarding the door when he was being tortured. Great, fucking great. None of them involved in the event that night would escape him. Another tattooed man emerged from a doorway across the street, then two more from the opposite direction. Six in total now visible, plus the giant making seven. That was a lot less than he’d expected, but they were Silver-Ranks among them, and the others he didn’t know were likely higher-tier former adventurers so he couldn’t afford to get overconfident.

  Still, he should be able to handle this… he should, probably.

  In his last training session with Elsa, she believed he was nearing Silver Rank status, especially with his magic, and that would place him around a third-tier adventurer—though she’d also made it perfectly clear that there were many things he was still lacking. But she didn’t know all of his capabilities, and these men didn’t know either. However, they would find out soon enough, and they wouldn’t live to speak a word of it to anyone.

  A full circle began to close in. The men didn’t shout, didn’t draw their weapons in the open street where city guards or passersby might interfere. Instead, they just began to follow, spreading out to box him in without causing alarm. Adam’s pulse pounded, a blend of nerves and excitement, but his mind stayed cold and analytical. He lengthened his stride, weaving through narrower lanes, drawing the men after him like a bait on a line. He knew exactly where he was going, one of the places he had scouted over the last two days.

  It was a narrow alley between a bakery and a tanner’s shop, barely wide enough for two men to stand shoulder to shoulder, with high windowless walls and a solid brick dead-end at the far side. There were no doors, no ladders, no convenient roofs for anyone to rain down arrows. It was a killing box for anyone foolish enough to be cornered there.

  But Adam wasn’t the one intending to be trapped...

  He slipped into the alley’s mouth and made sure they saw him. The evening shadows were already thick here, pooling in the corners, stretching long from the overhanging edges of the roofs. He walked to the end, turned, and waited. It wasn’t a very long wait. Footsteps echoed behind him, and one by one, the men filed quickly into the alley, filling its narrow width until the only way out was blocked by a wall of bodies. A few of them began drawing their weapons, long swords and battle axes, but none of them moved to attack.

  One of the Silver-Ranks stepped forward and drew back his hood to reveal a scarred face split by a sharp smile. He held Adam’s gaze for a moment, then his gaze flicked to the towering wall at his back, and his smile stretched even wider.

  “I have to say, boy, I’m quite impressed,” the knight said in a deep, rough voice that matched his scarred face. “Moving around so much was clever, made you difficult to track, harder to pin down. Even now, drawing us to this narrow alley… that was deliberate, wasn’t it? Stripping away any advantage our numbers might have given us. But in doing so, you’ve cut off any means of escape. Is that wise? Or are you that confident you’ll win?”

  The man lived up to his rank. He’d caught on to Adam’s line of thought, and with a single glance at the alley, he had realized his plan. The man would be a problem. But then again, it wasn’t as though Adam had expected this to be easy. The man, all of them intact, were likely experienced knights and former adventurers. His only advantage was his magic and the gap in knowledge; he knew what to expect from them—mana-based magic—and they likely expected the same. He would need to end it before they realized that error.

  Silence floated for a moment, then Adam finally spoke.

  “You know,” he began quietly, his voice steady despite the rush of nerves and excitement he felt flowing through him. “Where I come from, I’d never killed anyone. Not even once. And yet in less than a month here, four have died, and seven more are standing here, waiting their turn.” His gaze moved pointedly from face to face, cold and appraising, as if merely counting inventory. “And as I kill more of you, the more I realize something strange; it doesn’t matter. One life, ten lives, a hundred, a thousand… more, it all feels the same. There’s no weight to it, no stain on my conscience.” His lips twitched into something, not quite a smile, and he shook his head. “It doesn’t feel like you’re people to me, not even livestock, you’re just… pests. If there’s any meaning to your lives at all, it’s in this moment, because dying here, by my hand, might be the only worth you can ever claim.”

  The words spilled freely out of his mouth, just raw, unfiltered truth from the deepest part of him. He didn’t know exactly when that kind of thinking had settled as normal in his mind, but it had, it felt completely natural, and that awareness unsettled him more than the killing itself. Worst still, it was getting harder to tell where the line was—where the pests ended and the rest of the world began, whether it stopped with the guilty, like these seven men, or stretched to anyone who simply failed to matter to him. The darkness was sinking deeper, reshaping him in more ways, and he couldn’t fight it. The most he had done was to stop resisting his growing attachment to Elsa, to Lorelei, to Katryn and her mother; because only with them could he still feel something human, something light. And he didn’t know who—or what—he would become if the darkness ever claimed him completely.

  As his words settled into their minds, a heavy silence fell over the alley. Adam felt fear and uncertainty surge through some of the men, and a few even glanced at one another in shock, searching for reassurance that they’d heard him right. Others began scanning the alley, counting their numbers, watching their shadows, as if expecting the walls themselves to spring a trap. He didn’t sound like a cornered man, and they could all feel it.

  The scarred Silver-Rank was one of the few who kept their composure, but his smile had vanished and he shook his head, half-amused, half-baffled. “You have a way with words, boy. That’s one of the better threats I’ve heard. Who exactly are you?”

  The question hung unanswered for a heartbeat as Adam saw most of the men begin to regain their composure, as though the knight’s steadiness had calmed their fears. A few shifted their footing, slowly pushing forward, readying themselves to attack. The giant with the spider tattoo loomed at the back, not reacting. He just stood there, watching, his massive frame blocking much of the alley’s entrance, and a war-hammer slung over one shoulder like it weighed nothing at all. Adam remained motionless at the dead-end, his back pressed to the wall, his mind racing through plans and ideas as he took in all of their movements.

  “You know,” he finally said. “…I’ve been wondering that myself.”

  The knight studied him for a moment, as if trying to determine how much of a threat he actually was, then he drew his weapon, a broadsword gleaming faintly in the dim light filtering into the alley. “You’re a mystery to a lot of powerful people,” he said calmly. “No one’s quite sure what to make of you. Maybe you’re as dangerous as you claim, maybe you really could kill us all. Or maybe you’re full of shit, helpless without Elsa.” His grip on the sword hilt tightened and his shoulders tensed. “Either way, let us find out which—”

  Adam moved. He didn’t draw his sword; he just lunged forward in a sudden blur of speed, closing the gap to one of the men in front before the knight’s challenge could fully leave his mouth. The target was a lean figure whose hand had been glowing with gathered mana, one of the few who had shifted forward, eager for the fight. The man’s eyes had only begun to widen in surprise when Adam came upon him. In a single, fluid motion, his blade was out and the man’s head rolled off his neck before a scream could escape. Blood sprayed against the alley wall, and as the body collapsed, Adam jumped back into position.

  A heavy silence fell. The suddenness of his attack had stunned them, exactly as he’d intended. He had gambled on the assumption that none of them would expect him to strike first, let alone at such close range. But even so, he had avoided the Silver-Ranks, or anyone wielding a weapon, unwilling to bet on their shock outweighing their reflexes. Instead, he had targeted the magic user. He carried no weapon, relying on his magic entirely.

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  And Adam hadn’t given him the time to actually use it…

  Expectedly, the surprise faded as quickly as it had come, and their attention snapped back to him, some eyes already burning in rage, others wavering as uncertainty crept back into their minds. The scarred Silver-Rank tore off his cloak, and the second one who’d been silent followed, their polished armor flashing into view. They had decided he was a serious enough threat, and their stances shifted with that decision, mana coiling around them.

  But Adam didn’t wait for them to attack…

  He thrust a hand forward and the air screamed as black flames roared from his palm in a concentrated stream, a void-like fire that devoured all light completely. He aimed the torrent down the alley. The men were stacked close behind one another, the perfect target; the flames could scorch through them all at once. He hoped to finish this in one fell swoop, one attack to reduce them to charred corpses, but it was never going to be that easy.

  The scarred knight reacted faster than Adam had hoped. With an almost thunderous clang, he drove his sword deep into the ground, and in an instant, the blade thickened and stretched, expanding into a slab of gleaming steel taller and wider than the man himself. It stood firm before the group as the black flames crashed against it with a hiss like a thousand serpents, biting into the steel like corrosive acid. Metal ran down in a small molten stream, dripping onto the stone ground where it sizzled and smoked. Yet the reshaped barrier held strong, strained and scarred under the heavy onslaught, but refusing to give.

  Mana was weak against his magic, yet he had none of the sense that he might break through the barrier by pressing harder, like Elsa’s shields. Then Adam realized why; this wasn’t a mana construct, perhaps infused with mana, but not shaped entirely by it.

  The flames licked around the edges of the steel barrier, scorching cloaks and searing walls. The men pressed tighter behind the slab, then one of them stumbled—a stocky man on the outer edge, too slow, just slightly out of cover. And that was enough. The fire caught him only partially at first, just grazing his shoulder, then it spread unnaturally, as if with a will of its own, gnawing through flesh and steel, spreading faster than he could retreat. The man’s scream was raw and brief, cut short as the flames consumed him from chest to face in seconds, leaving a charred husk that crumpled to the ground with a dull thud.

  He couldn’t get them all… one would have to be enough.

  But there was no time to feel even a tiny sense of satisfaction. As Adam cut off the flames—deciding there was no point wasting energy on a barrier that wouldn’t break—he sensed danger down his spine. Beside him, steel whistled. He felt the displacement of air a second before the blade arrived. The second Silver-Rank, younger, perhaps faster than the others, had already closed the distance while Adam’s attention was on the fire. The sword came level at his neck, a clean decapitating swing meant to quickly end the fight.

  Adam twisted on instinct, and the blade grazed his collar instead of his throat, but it wasn’t over. Without breaking his motion, the knight rolled his wrists mid-air, turning the failed decapitation into a second arc that slashed across Adam’s chest. It would have been fatal had he not stepped back in time, instead it left only a shallow cut that stole his breath.

  They gave him no moment to recover; the next attack followed instantly.

  The air cracked with heat as a bolt of fire lanced forward, aimed straight at his chest. Adam raised a hand and pure blackness poured from his palm like liquid shadow, hardening in an instant into a curved barrier that resembled a wall of obsidian glass, swallowing the fire-bolt. The flames struck it and vanished, leaving no flare, no scorch marks, not even a lingering ember. The barrier just drank the heat as though it had never existed.

  Moving to capitalize on the surprise he saw on some of their faces, Adam dismissed the barrier, the darkness unraveling quickly into wisps that drifted away like smoke, but in that same heartbeat, movement exploded to his right. The same younger knight. His sword flashed downward in a vicious arc, intending to split Adam from collarbone to hip. Adam’s hand snapped forward and his sword raised, meeting the knight’s weapon in a violent clash that rang through the alley and sent sparks flying as the two blades locked.

  He wouldn’t last long if this continued. The fight was rapidly turning into a grinding battle of attrition, they gave him no space to breathe, no moment to reset. The narrow alley still worked in his favor, preventing the whole group from swarming him at once, but even that advantage would slip in time. Already, the scarred Silver-Rank had reshaped his sword and was shifting position, looking for an opening to join the younger knight, same as the long-range fighter who had shot the fire-bolt. Just the two knights together would be more than enough; even in the cramped space, any coordinated attack would overwhelm him.

  He knew what he had to do… and it had to be done quickly.

  The younger knight pressed his advantage, his sword flashing in quick, precise arcs that forced Adam to give ground step by step. He did not use magic—perhaps the confined space made it impractical—but even without it, he steadily drove Adam back. Steel clanged against steel, sparks spilling through the alley, and Adam could do little more than hold his guard. Behind, the scarred Silver-Rank and the remaining men had repositioned, waiting for the moment the younger knight pinned Adam long enough for them to strike.

  Adam’s back hit the rough brick of the dead-end wall, there was no more room. The younger knight saw it as well, and a savage grin widened his face, then he lunged forward, thrusting low to gut Adam like a fish while the scarred knight surged forward.

  Adam had saved shadow-warp as his final gambit, not just because it could prove decisive, but also because it was his least tested ability. If it failed to function as it had the other day—as he desperately hoped it would—he was as good as dead. But then again, his death was guaranteed if he didn’t use it… it was now or never.

  Adam exhaled and let go.

  The shift happened quickly. In a single breath, the physical world faded around him as his body dissolved into the inky blackness, becoming the shadow that had been clinging to the base of the wall. One moment he was pinned against brick, the next he simply wasn’t there. Adam’s senses expanded with the shift, he could sense every vibration, every breath, every movement in the alley, even the most subtle. He sensed the coil of muscles in several of the men, he sensed the younger knight’s sword chop through empty air and bit deep into the wall, and he sensed the man’s confusion like his own… he also sensed his fear.

  “What the—where’d he go?” one of the tattooed men yelped.

  Another unleashed a fire-bolt, aiming toward the wall where Adam had stood just seconds before, but it dispersed harmlessly, the mana absorbed into the dark. Adam felt it tingle through his ethereal form, a minor annoyance, nothing more. That was good to know.

  “What magic is that?” Another asked.

  As before, Adam willed himself to move, his awareness slithering along the shadow, then he emerged, not from behind, not from the side, but from directly beneath the younger knight, rising like a ghost through the cracked ground. Silver-Rank or not, he had no chance to defend himself against the danger of his own shadow. Adam’s sword drove through him in a single, brutal rising cut, slicing from the groin all the way to his collarbone. The scream was high, wet, and shockingly brief. The knight was split apart, his blood bathing the entire alleyway as Adam yanked his sword free and vanished into the shadow again.

  At the gruesome display, panic spread through the rest. They spun around, weapons raised, their eyes darting wildly around the shadowed alley, fear seeping into their bones.

  “By the Divine, what is he?!” A man cried in terror.

  The scarred Silver-Rank, still composed, bellowed for the men to form up, to watch the ground, the walls—anything—but it was already too late.

  Adam came again, this time from the shadow halfway up the wall. He dropped like a guillotine, sword first, slashing across a man’s chest. Before the body even began to fall, he struck again on the backswing, driving the blade through the throat to make sure he went down permanently. Blood painted the bricks, and the body collapsed bonelessly.

  One more down… Adam sank backward into the shadows.

  The remaining three tried to backpedal, but the alley was too narrow, and their own dead were already tangling their feet. An unforeseen advantage. Adam slipped into the long shadow of the giant’s war-hammer, the one the man still hadn’t swung. He emerged at the giant’s blind side, too fast for the mountain of muscle to react, and drove his blade through his heart, deeply. He never had a chance to attack. He dropped with a heavy thud.

  Now, only the scarred Silver-Rank knight and the last thug—a wry man with a snake tattoo coiling up his arms and neck—remained alive in the alley.

  The knight’s face had lost all of its color. For the first time since their confrontation began, real fear had entered his eyes. It wasn’t the professional caution of a veteran knight, but a deep instinct that something fundamentally wrong was hunting them.

  They kept retreating, both men flinching from their own shadows. In the confusion, it seemed they’d lost their bearing as they backed toward the dead-end instead of the alley’s mouth. When their backs met the wall, the thug jumped in fear, and while the scarred knight roared and drove his broadsword point-first into the wall. It burst outward in a deafening crash, dust and stone spraying as the barrier gave way. The breach opened to a compound noticeably brighter than the alley, with tall lantern poles lit throughout the yard, their steady glow spreading evenly over the wide ground and leaving almost no shadow at all. The thug didn’t hesitate; he bolted through the opening, and a second later, the knight followed after him, casting one last glance over his shoulder before disappearing into the light.

  Adam didn’t chase immediately after them, he just stood in the center of the carnage he’d unleashed, breathing lightly, his sword dripping with blood. The alley floor was slick with gore, bodies sprawled in grotesque attitudes. One of them was still twitching. He tilted his head, ready to deal a killing blow, then it stopped, still now. He released a heavy breath and walked forward, his boots squelching before he stepped over the rubble.

  The yard beyond was larger than he’d expected, a storage yard for the tanner’s shop, maybe? He didn’t know, and frankly, he didn’t care as long as they weren’t disturbed. The scarred knight and the thug stood waiting near the center, facing the opening, their weapons raised. The knight’s face was covered with sweat, his knuckles white around the hilt of his sword, while the thug’s mouth worked silently, as though saying a prayer.

  Adam stopped a few feet away and just stared at the men, waiting. Blood soaked the front of his shirt, streaked his face, and dripped from the tip of his sword, yet his eyes were still calm as he regarded them. He didn’t feel anger, or hate, he just felt… serene.

  He raised his blade in a loose, almost casual salute. “Now then…” he said, his voice soft, almost conversational. “…to deal with the remaining pests.”

  Adam didn’t need the shadow to sense their dread; it was visible on their faces, and it sent a sharp thrill through him. He had shown all his cards, all he could do, yet his victory still felt inevitable. Not because he was stronger—the knights would have crushed him in a straight fight—but because he was prepared, and because his magic had caught them off guard. It was new, unfamiliar, and fear-inspiring. They didn’t know how to counter it. Even now, they were afraid of it, and afraid people made mistakes. He would win.

  The scarred knight swallowed hard, while the thug sank down to his knees, his nerve and his will to fight shattering to pieces. Unsurprisingly, the knight didn’t falter even as his companion fell. Instead, he let out a scream and surged toward Adam, swinging his heavy blade. He wasn’t as fast as the younger Silver-Rank, but he clearly favored brute strength over speed as he brought his blade down in a crushing arc aimed at Adam’s skull.

  To test his own strength, Adam met the charge head-on, his sword whipping up to intercept the descending blow. Steel crashed against steel with a resonant clang that echoed through the yard and the impact jarred his arms, his feet sinking into the earth, but still he held firm. The knight’s strength was immense, pushing Adam back, but he bent his blade, deflecting the force sideways and countering with a swift slash at the man’s stomach. The knight leaped back, his armor clinking, and the strike whistled harmlessly.

  Without any pause, the knight flicked his wrist, and his sword reshaped—elongating into a whip-like chain of segmented blades that lashed out like a serpent. Adam ducked out of the way, feeling the whoosh of air as it sliced over his head and carved a gash into a nearby lantern pole. The chain retracted instantly and reformed into a massive two-handed great-sword that the scarred knight swung in a wide, sweeping arc. Adam rolled aside, and the blade embedded into the ground with a thud that cracked and shook the earth.

  Seizing the moment, the knight reached into his pouch and hurled a crumpled scrap of metal to the ground. It unfolded unnaturally, expanding with a groan of twisting steel as it shaped into a hulking golem—twice the height of a man—its body a patchwork of jagged plates. What kind of magic was this? He could reshape his sword at will, he could conjure a golem from scrap. What deity had blessed him? A god of steel and forge, maybe? Given all he knew about this world, that was certainly possible. It was a unique kind of magic, he hadn’t encountered anything like it before now. But it shouldn’t be hard to adapt.

  The construct lumbered forward, fists like battering rams as it swung. Adam dodged its ponderous strike, which cratered the yard, then he unleashed a burst of black flames at the knight. The man reshaped his sword into a shield again and blocked the inferno, but the golem charged through undeterred, its metal frame resistant to the heat. Adam shadow-warped, dissolving into the faint shadow cast by a lantern and re-emerging behind the large construct. He drove his sword into its back and it pierced through, but it didn’t damage the golem at all, the thing just whirled around and backhanded him across the yard. Adam hit the ground hard, tasting his blood. That would have been a potentially crippling blow if not for his strength, but still he couldn’t afford to take another hit like that.

  Adam rolled to his feet as the knight advanced, sword now a spear thrusting for his heart, he parried the strike and sparks flew, but the experienced knight didn’t give him even a moment to counter. The golem lumbered in again and Adam warped once more, slipping into its elongated shadow. The knight—starting to adapt to his ability—leapt back instantly into a brighter area of the yard and Adam reemerged far away from the golem.

  He exhaled, still tasting the coppery warmth of blood in his mouth. His ribs ached from the golem’s backhand and his left shoulder throbbed, but none of it mattered. He just stared at the knight. The man had formulated a plan; stay in the light, let the golem press the attack, and when an opening surfaced, dart in for the kill. He’d recognized that he was the stronger sword fighter, so dealing the killing blow would not be too difficult. The man was not only experienced, he was clever too; he’d even seen through the alley trap.

  Elsa had warned him that any competent fighter would quickly adapt to his magic, and he was seeing that for himself now. Still, the man’s plan relied on the light…

  Adam only needed to take them away.

  With a deep breath, Adam moved quickly. Not toward the knight or the golem, but sideways, to the nearest lantern pole. Before the knight could process what was happening, Adam’s sword had already cut through the first pole and the lantern crashed down, flames guttering out and darkness racing forward. He moved to the next, then the next, the lanterns dropping one by one like felled trees. Then, he went for the final pole, the one directly above the knight. The man’s sword swung down, but Adam shadow-warped through the spreading gloom, reappearing just long enough to sever the shaft. It toppled with a thud. In seconds, the yard was drowned in near total darkness, lit only by the moonlight.

  Adam took a moment to relish the knight’s dread as he turned in a slow circle, blade raised toward the surrounding darkness as the golem returned to his side.

  “Show yourself!” he barked.

  Adam answered his call. He burst out from beneath the knight and his sword stabbed upward, piercing through the man’s spine with a wet crunch. He gasped, his body arching in agony, the spear dropping from nerveless fingers as he sank to his knees, blood bubbling from his lips. The golem froze, its animating mana faltering without its master. Adam rose, yanking his blade free, and stood over the kneeling knight. The man’s scarred face twisted in defiance, but his eyes held only defeat. The fight was done. Without a single word, Adam plunged his sword down through the collarbone, driving it deep into the chest cavity. The knight shuddered, a final gurgle escaping, then slumped forward, lifeless.

  The thug, still on his knees, whimpered once before Adam turned to him. He hadn’t tried to run… good. Adam didn’t want even one of them to escape. He approached slowly, covered in blood. The man’s eyes widened and trembled as he looked at him, as though something born of a nightmare had come to claim him. He pressed his head to the ground, his voice barely audible. “Please…” he stammered, begging. “I beg you… spare me.”

  Adam paused for a moment, then he stabbed his sword into the ground and crouched down before the man. “I have a question, answer honestly, and I’ll spare you.”

  “Anything… I’ll answer... I swear,” he stuttered out.

  “Raise your head,” Adam commanded. The thug was hesitant, fearful, but he knew his life was no longer his own, it rested on another’s palm. So, he lifted it, slowly. “Tell me, if you had won this fight, if I was at your mercy, would you spare me?”

  The thug swallowed and his lips trembled, his eyes darting away, searching for a lie that might be enough to save him. No words came. His silence was answer enough.

  Adam’s hand quickly shot forward and wrapped around the thug’s throat, tight, then black flames erupted, crawling up the throat to his head. The man screamed in raw torment, flailing wildly, but Adam’s grip held firm. His skin blackened, his hair smoked and curled, pain hotter than anything he had known. Then, at last, he fell silent, his scream swallowed by the night’s silence. Adam held him a moment longer, to feel the last twitch of life die in his hand, then he let the body slump to the ground, the flames guttering out.

  That was the last of them. All seven were dead now.

  Adam let out a breath and pushed to his feet, but a wave of exhaustion swept through him and he staggered back a step. It wasn’t only physical exhaustion, even his reservoir of dark energy was near depleted. If the battle had gone on just a while longer, he would have certainly lost. Still, shadow-warping had exceeded his expectations. It had singlehandedly won him this fight. There were still things to think about—even about his other abilities as he’d learned a lot during this battle—but they could come later. His second fight in an alley had gone much better, and now, he needed to rest… a very long rest.

  Adam dragged himself forward, hauling his body over the rubble of the broken wall and back into the alley. From one of the fallen men, he snatched a cloak before slipping onto the street. The walk back to the inn was slow; he knew Katryn and her mother would be worried again, and he began rehearsing excuses in his mind.

  But all thoughts vanished when he saw the inn burning in the distance….

  *******