He remembered the knife on his side and began thinking.

  “A redhead huh, what's the deal with them, we seem to be getting-” The man in the black hat's voice made it quite easy for Tibaut to get engrossed in thoughts.

  (“They're adventurers but based on how Tina reacted, I guess they're not all that. Hell, they might not even be on par with the ones we brought for the dungeon, and I don't think Nigel was that hard to take on if I use him as a reference for what's considered ‘strong’ here. Damnit, I wish I brought that tome with me, it's been so long since I've looked at anything involving weapons in that book. But it should be fine I think? I mostly remember them being normal hand-to-hand with a few unorthodox movements to get a quick kill with the knife. But it did differ by knife as well, I think blade length was a-”)

  He moved his head out of the way of a throwing axe and quickly rolled to the floor to avoid a kick from the moustache thug.

  He grabbed the prior dropped axe and got back to his feet trying to keep the men in sight.

  “Alright my guy, you're just taking the piss now, do you…”

  (“Oh well, practice is practice. I might as well get myself familiar with using a knife before I get in a situation where I actually need it.”)

  He dodged another kick from the pony-tailed man and managed to push him during this, sending him off balance straight to the floor.

  He was wearing thick chest armor and Tibaut showed no hesitation in smashing the axe against his back. It tore open the back of the coat but only left a dent in the armour.

  The man clutched his back, letting out a whimper before trying a counterattack

  Tibaut quickly dodged.

  “Hey asshole, you must think you're some real good stu…”

  (“As I thought.”)

  When he felt the axe earlier, the texture felt far different than any metal he held before. And that was because it wasn't metal. It was stone.

  (“Maybe the loudmouth’s magic involves stone. I guess all he can do is make shitty stone a-”)

  He dodged another blow from the ponytailed man and observed the black hat pick up a large rock and place his hand on someone's house (made of wood).

  The wood morphed like putty in his hands, easily ripped off the wall and both materials combined together to form an axe, looking just like the others.

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  (“Isn't that interesting.”)

  The ponytail man had grown tired and went for a blow to his head. Tibaut

  lowered his hips and swung his elbow around, striking the man on his waist.

  The man held his hip before he felt a light brush of something against his neck.

  Tibaut held the stick in his hand, but face palmed immediately after the move.

  (“You're using a pointy knife not a slashy knife dumbass.”)

  He had run the stick across the man's throat, trying his best to imitate what he saw long ago in the book.

  The black-hatted man had no idea what Tibaut was trying but he wasn't having it.

  “(That bastard, if the blade was still on it, he would have smashed J’s throat!) Hey J, this guy doesn’t know about respect, let's beat it into him.” He shouted as he turned an axe into a larger, and more importantly, sharper weapon. (“Tough shit pal, better to get roughed up now than hurt the wrong guy someday. If you tried that shit with Furor, I'm sure he'd stomp your head in so bad, you'd have to wear two bags to hide a face that ugly.”)

  The man close to Tibaut nodded before feeling a blow to his gut that left him on his knees.

  He gritted his teeth as he looked up to see Tibaut pull away a stick.

  (“This bastard! Does he have an enhancement magic like Agatha?”) He thought.

  (“Hmm, I guess they're not completely weak. As a bonus, I didn't have to hurt my hand, like Elizabeth did with my armour. Blunt force sucks, doesn't it?”) Tibaut thought as he looked at the man on the floor.

  He noticed the man behind but instead of countering, did a backwards roll through his legs, hitting his ankle as hard as possible with the tip of the stick.

  He held his boot before falling to the ground clutching his foot.

  (“I hope those dampened it, that one seemed a bit rough.”) The man who did the rough action thought.

  The ponytail man jumped over his comrade, looking to hit a flying kick, but all he got was his forehead slamming into the tip of the blunt stick.

  (“Not bad, but you're gonna need a bit more speed to catch me off guard.”)

  Both men huddled together and began speaking.

  “Listen guys I don't want any trouble, how about we just call this a da-”

  He dodged a stone-throwing knife sent his way and backed away from an attempted headbutt from the other man.

  The man called J, looked ready to throw a punch but Tibaut backed way out of its range.

  What he wasn't expecting was the man's hand to be filled with sand.

  (“This bastard, where the hell did you get such fine sand from? We're on a snowy dirt road!”)

  He instinctively kicked at the man, landing one in his chest, causing both to let out a groan of displeasure.

  He didn't know where but he heard something being flung at him and he quickly dropped to the floor.

  “Ow, dumbass, watch where you're aiming!”

  “Screw off J, if a blind man can dodge it, so can you!”