Brulin let out a sharp bark of laughter, turning to the men behind him. “You hear that, boys? This twerp thinks he can kill us.” He turned back to Hector with a crooked smile. Disgust bubbled in Hector’s gut, thick and twisting. “Listen, kid,” Brulin said, “don’t make me hurt you.”

  Hector’s gaze moved from Brulin to a man standing behind the bald man. Slacks, short hair, and a face Hector wouldn’t remember—one of the four. He would be the one to die first. Once he was down, Hector would move on to the next.

  Pulling on the [Mana Forge] Talent within his mind—a new Talent he’d received in the week of isolation—energy crackled down his hand. It slipped through his veins and crackled in his palms, churning as the surrounding air buzzed. Within seconds, a form took shape. A purple kitchen knife crackling with purple energy.

  Grasping the weapon in his hand, Hector levelled the blade at the slacks-wearing man. Its tip glinted in the sun as the man took a step back, glancing at Brulin. “By the great lake! What did he just do?”

  “I don’t know,” Brulin said, the smile on his face now gone. He’d started taking the situation seriously. Not that doing so would change anything—Hector had already marked him for death. But at least he’d get to see a little taste of what was coming for him.

  With another tug in his mind, Hector activated the [Static field] Talent. The air buzzed with static. Tiny sparks of electricity snaked through the air in front of him, crackling against the cobblestone and disappearing.

  Brulin narrowed his eyes at him, and Hector took off. Exploding past the man in a rush of air and appearing right in front of the slacks-wearing man, whose eyes were wide with shock.

  Hector slammed the knife forward. The man didn’t even have time to blink before the knife cracked through the bone and embedded itself deep in his chest. Hector then dropped to a knee and whipped his foot out, taking the man off his feet.

  Even as his body fell, Hector popped back up and slammed his heel down onto the butt of the knife. The man slammed onto the ground with a crack, with the knife pinning him firmly in place as he tried to claw at it—blood seeping from the wound. Hector didn’t even spare him a glance as energy crackled in his palm, and he summoned another knife. The man would be dead soon enough.

  His eyes locked onto another target—a black hair man—and his hand snapped out.

  Brulin, having shaken himself free from the shock, whipped out a knife from his waist. A sharp clang sounded through the air as Brulin’s knife knocked the purple knife back. But Hector paid it no mind as he darted to the side, closing in on a brown-haired man.

  The man raised his arms to block, but gritted his teeth as static slammed into his body. He barely moved as Hector sent his fist into his gut, knocking the wind out of him, before reaching up and grabbing his head. A crack split the air as Hector smashed his knee into the man’s head, flipping him onto his back.

  As the man landed, a purple crackle surged across Hector’s hand, and he snapped it out, slamming a knife straight through the man’s throat. Hector turned to his next target as blood flowed from the man’s neck, and he fell still.

  “You cur,” Brulin yelled, “you’re dead. I hope you know that,” the bald man yelled before charging towards Hector, brandishing his knife. But it wasn’t time to deal with the man yet. He’d told him he’d die last, and his pathetic attempt to rush that wouldn’t work. He needed to see all of them die.

  Hector zipped forward, ducking to the side of Brulin and passing by the enraged man. Hector’s eyes locked onto the black-haired man he targeted earlier.

  The man staggered back, fear colouring his features. But the man’s fear brought Hector nothing, no satisfaction, no pleasure. His hand whipped out again, and another purple knife rushed forward. With a snick, it sank into the man’s forearm.

  A miss. No matter.

  Hector tugged on [Blazing Arsenal], summoning the burning pool right beneath the man. He then took a step to the side, ducking out of the way of Brulin as he hurtled past.

  Screams of agony followed a second later as fire engulfed the black-haired man. His skin blackened as the flames ate away at his flesh, the heat so hot he couldn’t even move before he passed out and slumped to the floor. The fire continued to do its grisly work, charring his flesh.

  Brulin stood just outside the flames and watched with horror as the man turned into a blackened husk. Not that he could have done much to save him. He would last a little longer in the flames, maybe enough to make it out—but then what would he accomplish but a more painful death?

  Hector glanced at the last of Brulin’s followers, who stood there frozen. His gaze moved to Hector, and tears pooled in the corner of his eyes. “Please, if I’d known a Core Formation—”

  Before he could finish speaking, a screech tore through the air, and an instant later, a fireball slammed into his face, engulfing his head in flames. The man slumped to his knees, not even making a sound before slamming into the cobblestone. The fire consumed his head.

  The small crowd that had gathered let out shocked gasps. Many of them stepped back, others still walked away, hoping to act as if they’d seen none of it. Hector turned back to Brulin. A few of them would be off to tell the guards, not that he’d still be here if those dogs ever arrived. Even if he was—what would he have to fear?

  “How is this possible? This makes no sense.” Brulin said, turning to Hector, his knuckles white as he gripped his knife and the [Blazing Arsenal] fires burned behind him. “You can’t be in the Core Formation. It makes no sense.”

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Hector set his jaw and dropped lower into his stance. There was no need to answer someone he was going to kill. Besides, the man didn’t deserve answers—what he deserved was a painful death. And Hector was more than happy to give it to him.

  The cobblestone cracked as Hector shot forward—Brulin raised his knife to block. But Hector jerked to the side and slashed at the man’s arm. He then swivelled to Brulin’s back and dragged the knife across it.

  Brulin screeched in pain, spinning around and slamming down his knife. Though the static field slowed him noticeably. It wouldn’t be enough.

  Hector jerked to the side and pulled on [Quickening Brace], dragging time to a crawl, before pulling on [Mana Forge] and summoning a second knife into his other hand. He then slammed one knife into Brulin’s forearm. Time slammed into motion. And he slashed the other across Brulin’s shoulder while dodging out of the way of the man’s wild swing.

  “You little turd. How are you doing that?” Brulin screamed. His voice was a little shakier, as if some fear was creeping in. Was the realisation that he was going to die here finally sinking in?

  “Goodbye, Brulin.” Hector willed the static he’d built on Brulin’s body to activate. Sparks jumped from the man’s chest, legs, and arms as his face tightened, spasms flowing throughout his frame. But the man’s eyes focused on Hector as he tried to fight through it.

  Hector quirked an eyebrow, scanning him.

  ————————————————

  ///

  Cultivation level: [Gravity Forging - 5]

  Talent: [None]

  Talent Fragment: [None]

  ///

  ————————————————

  “I see,” Hector muttered.

  Hector pulled on the [Resonant Shout] Talent as he slowly walked towards Brulin. Energy flowed through him, surging through his throat and coalescing into a point; he then opened his mouth. Wave after wave of sound slammed into Brulin, shaking his flesh and causing his eyes to roll back into the back of his head, as the sound overwhelmed him.

  With a light thought from Hector, a flame screeched through the air and slammed into Brulin’s back. The man didn’t even scream as he slumped to the floor. Hector then had the flame pool crawl across the cobblestone and consume him. The man’s flesh burned and popped as he cooked.

  But even now, Hector found no satisfaction from this. Yes, the man who’d killed his father was dead, but there were still more people behind him. The Collar Gang was more than a simple Brulin, and they all had to die.

  Hector turned, his gaze scanning the faces of the crowd. Were there any more members amongst them? Many stepped back under his gaze, some even dropping to their knees, and muttering about him sparing them. But none were Collar Gang members. Not from their appearances, at least.

  “Hector!” a voice yelled. Turning to the one who had spoken, Hector set his jaw. Lincoln rushed out of the crowd, stepping over those who had bowed. “We need to get out of here, now! The guards, they’re coming,” Lincoln said, grabbing Hector’s arm and tugging him forward.

  “And?” Hector asked, raising an eyebrow. He wasn’t worried about any guards—they were most likely going to be Gravity Forging three at best—he could take them as long as his Talents were still active. Right now, it was more important to get his father—

  His father’s body was gone. The blood pool was still there, soaking into the dried stone.

  But his body was gone.

  “Where is he?” Hector muttered.

  “What? Hector, I’m serious. We don’t have time for this. If you get wrapped up with the guards, that’s going to be a lot worse than…” Lincoln’s gaze drifted around, noting the dead Collar Gang members. “They will put up a much better fight than them—you can trust me on that.”

  Hector shook Lincoln off and stomped over to the crowd, causing many of them to back up. “Where did he go?” Hector pointed back to the bloody spot where his dad had once been.

  “We are sorry, great one,” a shaky man with a long white beard said. The man held the arch in his back as he struggled against his walking stick, fear lingering in his eyes. “We only saw him disappear in a cloud of tiny purple lights. Was it not the great ones doing?”

  Hector’s face dropped into a frown as he searched the man’s wrinkled face for traces of a lie. But he had none. Genuine fear showed on the man’s face; he had no reason to lie to Hector. It wouldn’t benefit him, and he had no reason to hide it.

  His eyes then moved to the rest of the crowd. Many of them nodded towards the old man, alluding to the fact that they’d seen the same thing. But it made no sense. People didn’t just disappear, and he didn’t do it—but then who?

  A hand rested on his shoulder, and Hector glanced back.

  “We need to leave now, Hector. Please. Your sister is waiting for you.” Lincoln took his hand off Hector’s shoulder and pushed his way through the crowd before pausing and looking back to see if Hector was following him.

  Combing a hand through his white hair, Hector spared a look back at the destruction he had caused. Five bodies, three burnt and two in a pool of blood. He sighed—this was far from enough, but it was a start.

  He turned, the cool wind blowing across his still-damp cheeks as his father’s words played in his mind. Where had he gone, and what was waiting for Hector behind the shed? Who could say, but one thing was for certain. His father had died in his arms, and someone had taken him. Hector needed to find out who.

  Hector and Lincoln spent the next few hours cutting through back alleys to make sure they’d lost the city guards. They walked through black puddles of grime and waited in shadows, twitching at the faintest sound. While a fight didn’t scare Hector, Lincoln was right.

  If the city guards got involved, this would blow up into a much bigger problem and put them into even more crap. It was probably a good assumption that the slums, at least the Sirius Quarter, would no longer be safe for him and Mirae. The Collar Gang would want blood, and while he welcomed it—he couldn’t drag Mirae into it. No, they had to make other plans.

  —— —— —— ——

  In the last few hours of their walk back, Hector got his thoughts in order and attempted to figure out what he was going to tell Mirae. He had a lot to do when he got back, and telling her was just the start. Part of him wanted to hold off until he’d done all he needed to do. But she needed to know she needed to be prepared.

  Bracing against the front gate and pushing it open with a squeak, Hector turned to Lincoln. “Thanks for everything, man… I…”

  “Save it,” Lincoln said. “I did it because I care. And I’d be lying if I didn’t want to up and run away, by the Lake; if the guards had come any earlier, I would have. I’m not nearly as fast as you.” Lincoln let out a sigh and scratched the back of his head. “I guess all I’m trying to say is don’t give me too much credit.”

  Hector nodded and turned back. It was time to get the hard part over with. On the one hand, he needed to protect her, but on the other, she no doubt already knew what had happened, so who was he really comforting? Was it him or her?

  “I’ll be back with the other soon. We will figure something out. Don’t worry.” Footsteps then slowly retreated before breaking out into a sprint, and Lincoln was gone.

  As Hector approached the kitchen door, it swung open and standing there, puffy-eyed, was Mirae. “Where is Father, Hector?”

  Patreon. For anything else, you can find me on