“Woo!” the scarred man cheered, laughing as he shook the dizziness from his head. He spat a small stream of blood onto the floor.

  My entire body was on fire. I could feel the hairs on my arms standing like I’d just been struck by lightning. I was about to rush him when suddenly, I felt the back of his fist collide with my face.

  I hit the dirt like a sack of shit. It was like I’d just been hit like a train.

  Panting, gasping, I forced myself to stand.

  He looked at me like he was impressed.

  “Damn…” He pulled a small parchment from his pocket and unfolded it, then started reading aloud. “Cael Soulgrave. Eighteenth son of Tyrus Soulgrave, a Tier 5 warlord. Tier 5…” he muttered. “So impressive. Then there’s you! Family shitstain, third stage Tier 1. You punch pretty hard for your rank though! Fuck! Aren’t you supposed to be a mage?!”

  He grinned like this whole scenario was hilarious to him. He planted his sword in the ground.

  Yes, in the ground. He stabbed his steel sword into the stone floor like it was made of fucking butter.

  “You know what? That hyped me up…” He looked between his two companions. “This job gets pretty boring, ‘specially dealing with these grim fucks every day. Gotta make my own fun… alright, I’ll cut to the chase.”

  He threw the parchment he’d been reading from over to me. I barely caught it in my daze.

  “Cael. Cael, buddy. Since you arrived in this province, you’ve borrowed a lot of fucking money, man. You know how much you’ve borrowed in the last six months?”

  Cael… didn’t know. I was just coming to terms with that now. Realistically, Cael had been raised in such a rich environment that he didn’t actually have a decent gauge on the value of money. He knew he’d borrowed a lot, but… how much was a lot, really?

  “Well, I’ll tell you now, it’s a fucking inordinate amount. It’s impressive that you manage to spend all that, honestly! I don’t know how you do it!” He snarled as he spoke, then tutted. “Actually, I do know how. It’s those overpriced fuckin’ elixirs you rich kids like to guzzle down, ain’t it? Makes me sick, honestly. A whole stinkin’ industry profiting hand over fist over how desperate pampered shits like you are to get stronger. Breaks my heart.”

  Something told me it didn’t break his heart. Something told me he got a lot of sadistic enjoyment out of every moment of this playact.

  “You know most of it’s watered down, don’tcha? That you’re spending enough money to feed half a village on a bottle of sparkly blue nothing twice a week?”

  Cael… didn’t know if that was true either. Honestly, if it was, that was even more pathetic. Had he never even done his due diligence when he’d chosen which elixirs to spend a fortune on?

  While we were on the topic, just who the fuck was he borrowing off of? I racked my brain, and the only connection I could remember Cael making was…

  He’d met a middle-aged looking man shortly after arriving at the guild, one who’d been willing to get him a contact that would provide mana strengthening elixirs on a tab. A creepy looking guy who smiled too much with a name like… Lucian, or Luca, or something.

  “And then you sit around and wonder why you’re still the family nobody!” The enforcer chuckled, finally finishing his tirade. “Anyways. My employer sent me here to take one of your eyes. Probably covers about 5% of your debt, but that’s interest.”

  This really wasn’t good. The chances that I could take on even this guy alone seemed dicey enough, then there were the two with him. Even if he was the strongest, I had no clue how me or Amara were supposed to fight our way through this.

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  “Hey, you heard him before,” I said, turning to Amara. “Go.”

  “She can go!” the scarred man assured me. “Actually, wait. Stay. I’ve got an idea.”

  We both stared at him. Ideas didn’t sound like a good thing.

  “You’ve got a set of balls,” the enforcer announced. “You really fucking got me earlier, too. Didn’t even see it coming. Most people I come visit piss themselves the second they see Dorian here,” he pointed to the massive guy with his thumb. “Don’t they, Dorian?”

  “Sure do,” the gargantuan man nodded.

  “Not you though! But… I don’t think you could do that twice. And I’m willing to put a wager on it.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “What wager?”

  “Try and hit me again. I’ll give you three minutes. If you land one blow on me, I’ll let you keep your eye another month.”

  “You sure, boss?” Dorian spoke, his voice slow.

  “No, I said it because I was unsure, you dumb bastard. Of course I’m sure.”

  Dorian, for all of his mass, shifted under the scrutiny of his superior. “I know, but the gourmand’s gonna be pissed if we don’t bring him—”

  “Hey.” The scarred man, probably a full foot shorter than his accomplice, grabbed him by the ear and pulled him down to his level. “You don’t talk about that shit in front of anyone. If I’ve gotta remind you again, we’ll be giving him one of your eyes. Got it?”

  “Y-yes boss.”

  “Good boy,” the enforcer released the massive man’s ear, who looked as if he was about to topple over.

  “Anyways!” He skulked around the small training room like it was an arena, eyeing me as he walked. Sizing me up like prey. “Three minutes. You and me.” He looked at Amara. Gave her a wink. “Think he can last that long?”

  “You’re a miserable little man.”

  “Ooh. Tasty.” He turned to me. Flashed a grin. “She talk to you like that? I can see the appeal.”

  I felt my arm move before my brain could process it happening. He grabbed my fist in midair.

  “Now hold on, we haven’t started yet! Let’s have a countdown, make it official.”

  Well, shit. Guess I was fully signed up for this now. Honestly, regardless of how I felt about the situation, I knew I didn’t have a choice. What was I supposed to do? Say ‘no, please just take my eye without a fuss, sir’?

  This was the life I’d inherited. More than that, when I said that I wanted to wake up, that I wanted to live as Cael Soulgrave once again, this was the shit that I’d signed up for.

  I knew it was gonna be difficult. Maybe I’d underestimated quite how much the odds were stacked against me, but screw it. This was as good a place for me to make a stand as any.

  He’d left his sword planted as he walked to the opposite side of the training room. He didn’t ready a stance or anything, just stood there and waited for me to take my own position.

  He didn’t even register me as a threat. I didn’t know what level this guy was at, but I was almost certain he wasn’t a Tier 1, and that the chances of me being able to best him were effectively zero.

  This was sport for him. A chance for a bit of fun before he enacted his bloody toll on me.

  He didn’t know what he was up against, though. Even if I was far weaker than him, even if the chances of me winning in an actual fight against this guy were nil, I was not the average third stage anymore, that I was more than sure of.

  More than that, I knew the layout of this makeshift arena inside out by now. If I could find some way to catch this guy off-guard, all I had to do was connect one blow on him. That was it. One hit and I saved myself from agony. Gave myself a chance.

  “Alright! Three…”

  I pulled myself into an attacking stance. I had no intention of dropping my wooden sword, whether he planned to use his or not.

  “Two…”

  I flashed a look at Amara. I could tell she wanted more than anything to strangle the man threatening me. I couldn’t go down in front of her. I needed to keep fighting for her sake.

  “One!”

  He bowed at ‘one’. Maybe bowing was their custom here.

  Well, I wasn’t from here, and I didn’t give a shit.

  I lunged straight at him, swinging my wooden blade in a flurry.