Ruban gestured to two of the Hunters who’d been drifting aimlessly among the rioters before the X-class showed up. The crowd parted to let them through. Within seconds, they stood at attention before him, their eyes wide and lips slightly parted in some combination of awe and dread.

“Hold it down,” Ruban said, with a cursory glance at the X-class lying beneath him. “If it escapes…” He pinned both Hunters with a narrow-eyed glare. “Or dies. You’ll be court-martialed so fast your heads will spin.”

Without waiting for their response, Ruban shot to his feet. “And if you think you and your queen can decide how criminals are dealt with in this country,” he smiled coldly at Shwaan, readjusting the sifblade in his hand for a more secure grip. “Let me assure you, you’re mistaken. Sorely.”

Shwaan’s lips twitched, his smile sardonic. “I’m glad to see someone’s feeling confident this evening.” Heat prickled his palm as a fledgling energy-shell began to take shape.

Ruban flew at him, swiping viciously with his sifblade.

Shwaan took to the air, his wings flaring. And dodged the blade by less than a whisker.

Undeterred, Ruban flung a sifkren at him. Then another.

Neither hit their target, but they distracted him enough that he couldn’t complete the energy-shell. Shwaan suspected that’d been Ruban’s goal all along.

He flapped his wings, propelling himself higher still, until he was too far away for Ruban to accurately take aim at him.

Before he could initiate another energy-shell, however, Ruban had scrambled up the exterior drain pipe of a nearby building. He now stood – precariously balanced – on the ledge of a second-floor balcony.

If Shwaan wanted to use his energy-shell, he’d have to risk incinerating the entire building. And Ruban was daring him to try.

Shwaan smirked, impressed despite himself. But if he had to play this game he’d play it by his own rules, not Ruban’s.

Wings tucked tightly against his back, Shwaan dove – making a beeline for the X-class and her two guards.

His sifblade held aloft, Ruban leapt off the ledge a second before Shwaan passed him on his descent to the ground.

His timing was perfect.

With his free hand, Ruban grabbed one of Shwaan’s wings, hoisting himself onto his back with some effort. Another muscled arm snaked around Shwaan’s shoulder until Ruban held the sifblade pressed to his throat. Finally, he wrapped his legs around Shwaan’s lower body, powerful calf muscles straining to retard his descent.

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Shwaan spun in the air, massive wings flapping to try and throw off the Hunter. Suspended in the air, they wrestled like this for a few minutes.

Eventually, Ruban’s legs lost their grip on Shwaan, his body swinging wildly in the air as he hung on by his arms alone. The sifblade pressed into Shwaan’s throat, breaking skin. Light spilled out of the wound, momentarily dispelling the late-evening darkness.

Below, the crowd roared – but whether it was a roar of approval or dismay, Shwaan couldn’t be sure. Numerous cameras flashed rapidly all along the street, nearly blinding the combatants above.

Behind him, Shwaan felt Ruban freeze. Muscles straining to keep himself from falling off, he flipped the sifblade in his hand so the edge of the blade no longer touched Shwaan’s skin.

Shwaan laughed, the wind carrying and amplifying the sound. “You really are too soft-hearted for this job, aren’t you?” He landed on a nearby roof, reaching back to grab Ruban by the scruff of his shirt. In one deft maneuver, he flipped the Hunter over, throwing him to the ground in front of him.

Ruban twisted mid-air, barely managing to land on all fours. Crouching at Shwaan’s feet, he struck out with his sifblade, lightning-fast. Shwaan leapt back just in time to avoid getting his legs chopped off with the sifblade.

“And here I was, hoping for an actual challenge.” Shwaan pouted, a lilting cadence to his voice. “To think they call you the best Hunter in Ragah. You had that blade pressed to my throat for a whole minute, but couldn’t muster up the courage to use it. If this is the best Vandram has to offer,” he scoffed. “My sister needn’t worry about that war. I could kill the lot of you with my eyes closed and hands tied behind my back.”

Another sifkren swished through the air toward him.

Shwaan shifted his weight onto the balls of his feet. Rolling his shoulders back, he arched his spine and bent over backwards until his head touched the ground behind his legs.

The sifkren sailed smoothly over his arched body, barely grazing his abdomen.

The entire maneuver had taken less than a second, but Shwaan used the opportunity to engender a tiny energy-shell on the palm of his hand. As soon as the sifkren passed him by, he pulled himself upright and unleashed the shell, no more than a couple of meters away from Ruban.

The Hunter leapt sideways to try and avoid the shell. But he wasn’t fast enough.

No one could’ve been, at such close range.

The shell grazed Ruban’s shoulder before detonating against a defunct utility pole in the distance.

Ruban doubled over, clutching at his shoulder with a muffled cry of pain.

On the street below, pandemonium erupted. The protestors jostled and shouted, with some of the younger, more adventurous ones trying to clamber up the drain pipes for a better view.

Shwaan cocked his head, pinning the injured Hunter with an apathetic gaze. “Really? Is that all it takes to subdue the famous Ruban Kinoh?” He took a step towards Ruban, then another. “Interesting. And to think you were so eager to save that Aeriel…” He circled the Hunter slowly, the long, outermost feathers of one wing brushing Ruban’s face as he walked past. “When you can barely even save yourself. Perhaps the Cabinet was right to be afraid of this alliance, after all. If this is the quality of their defence forces, they have good reason to fear Vaan. Numbers alone won’t help you—”

A sharp, metallic hiss cut him off.

Ruban had finally unsheathed it – the reinforced sifblade he always wore at his belt, but never used.

Shwaan grinned, leaping lightly on to the parapet to avoid the blade that hacked at him.

Ruban missed by less than an inch, slicing the air (and a few strands of silvery hair) where Shwaan had been a moment ago.

Shwaan giggled, delighted. “That’s the spirit! Now we’re getting into it, finally!”