"Of course you are. If today has taught me anything, it's that people come from all walks of life just to meet me." The Professor deadpanned while subtly shuffling closer to the frozen Satyr and away from the rising Cyclops. "I don't want to sound ungrateful for the company, but will there be any more surprise visitors?"

"Unlikely Professor, but underestimating your popularity has already cost me once." The Hound chuckled before taking note of the ticking time bomb and addressed her like a peer. "Is there something I did to offend you, Sage? After our last talk, I thought you'd taken an interest in me; now you won't even give a greeting."

Bronte's thick, callused hand covered her face; the other was clenched so hard in a fist it could've made a diamond from coal. She held onto one shaky knee, the screaming replaced by a rapid muttering almost as soon as the Caesar made her appearance.

"...forcedtotakethisdamnedjobnowimabeasttamer…"

Morgan was only a meter and change from Bronte, and he could hardly make out the breathy stream of sentences. Yet the Hound, standing in the cabin's shadow nearly thrice that distance, seemed to have no trouble commenting.

"Someone forced you to come here? How tragic." She sighed with all the sympathy of a wolf pack chasing big game. "And here I was, believing you were a perpetrator when you are just as much a victim as any of us, perhaps even more so. I see now that your beatings must have hurt you far more than it did me. My deepest apologies."

"…Surroundedbyfool goats and privileged mutts that…" The Cyclops's mutterings were advancing to low rumblings as both men took a quick involuntary step back, forgetting how squeaky the floorboards were. Surprisingly, she hardly seemed to notice any of them while lost in her little world of blind rage. "...When I get my hands on that pompous bitch again…"

"Grauf-ufuf!" Purple Cloak howled with laughter, disposing of false politeness in favor of open mocking sarcasm. "Insults and threats? Such petty behavior should be beneath a Cultivator of your caliber. You're better than that," The Hound paused, and Morgan could hear a hidden smile sharpening the end of the question to a razor's edge, "Can't you see?"

A corner of the Professor's mouth twitched up, but that was the acknowledgment he was willing to risk the verbal backhand. If Pete had any comments, he kept those to himself and only shuffled further away from the blast zone. Towards Morgan, in fact.

All three watched Bronte's hand fall away, revealing the damage he'd done. White sclera had become a skin-crawling shade of pink, a milky film had already begun glazing over the once vibrant brown iris. The destroyed organ glistened with tears, desperately attempting to flush away an irritant that had long since dissolved.

"If you're going to talk like your Fated, then you better be ready to put your Dao on the line, you smartass pup." Bronte sneered, blind eye staring right through the Caesar as she got both legs under her. "Once I catch you again, I'll break a bone for every word in whatever blind joke you make. So please keep talking, I dare you."

Dare her to what? Fall for the most obvious bait imaginable and get a taste of lighting? Morgan might've snorted if that wasn't precisely what the Cyclops wanted.

Instead of immediately responding with more mockery as he feared, Purple Cloak locked eyes with him before flicking her gaze to look past him. Looking past him at the empty deck free of bystanders who could get caught in the electrifying crossfire. He answered her with a nod.

As the final bit of fuze burned away, all four Mortals chose one of two actions to prepare. The Archer and Professor crouched while the others took in a mouth full of air.

Then…

"Sky Lord's Wrath!" Thundered the Sage, and above her head, a nimbus of black clouds swirled into existence, arches of dark blue electricity crackling within.

*Crack*

"Empty Bridge!" Snarled the Hound and fell right through the floor before a bolt of lightning shot past where her chest would have been.

Without hesitation, Bronte turned and took a heavy-weight swing at the space behind her. However, all her hook managed to do was sail harmlessly through the air and curse when her own momentum nearly sent her sprawling. "Void!"

"I'm insulted, Sage. Did you really think my first move would be to stab you in the back?!" Called the Hound from far behind him. "Do I look like a common Rogue to- Oh, sorry. I forgot who I was talking to for a moment!"

"Aaaaahhh!" Screamed the Cyclops and ran past the forgotten underling and original target of her mission.

They hadn't forgotten about each other though, and with Bronte focused on louder prey, their fight would start at the slightest provocation.

For the sake of maintaining the ruse of being a follower of the Diamond Tantra, the Professor couldn't risk using any more Techniques until the situation had become life and death. Not that he had much usable Prana in his Foundations anyway, as fighting Shrimpson, ambushing Gregory, and blinding Bronte had drained him. Now, he was little more than an injured Human going against an idiotic Archer without a weapon.

He'd need to play this carefully and act ruthlessly.

*Crack* Another bolt tore from the cloud.

Like runners after the starting pistol, both men exploded into motion. The Satyr turned to run away as fast as his hoofs could take him, either to retrieve his bow and quiver or regroup with the Assassin.

However, Pete wasn't going anywhere with his friggin cuff key.

When Pete ran, Morgan lunged forward, intending to grab the Satyr, but the sudden movement sent off Shrimpson's memento. Pain from the injury made lights dance in the corner of his vision. The Professor faltered, missed the grab, and fell loudly on the deck.

Pete glanced over the shoulder, saw his opponent's sorry state and a greedy light entered those goat-like eyes. As Morgan got on all fours, Pete pivoted on one leg to send a clumsy kick whipping at his head.

"Eat my hoof you-Ahh!"

At the last second, the Professor caught the limb and yanked on it with all his remaining strength, forcing the scrawny Satyr to hop forward on one leg. Letting go once within a comfortable range, Morgan gritted his teeth and twisted onto his back to send a kick to sweep the remaining leg out from under Pete. He fell back first on Morgan, the lone horn painfully jabbing his stomach as the pair wrestled for dominance.

Well, Morgan wrestled, the Archer sent elbow blows and headbutts that were more annoying than threatening. While ground grappling was never his preferred style in his youth, the bucking Pete had neither the experience nor the skill to offer more than a token resistance. In less than 20 seconds, Morgan had trapped the one-horned wonder in an arm lock that would have won him the round in an official match.

Sadly, there were no referees in a real fight. Only the fighters could decide how and when a brawl would end. But when the Professor looked down, a fire of defiance was burning hotly behind Pete's hard stare.

"If you swear an Oath to surrender-" He started to negotiate, only to be cut off.

"Let me save you the trouble!" Pete grunted, red-faced, his right arm straining to keep Morgan's leg from fully clamping around the neck. "I won't swear shit for nothing and nobody. So if you want that key, you'll have no choice but to cycle me, fool! The fact you'd even offer me something so cowardly as surrender only proves your weakness. Hells, I bet that you can't keep a hold on me for- ACK!"

Losing interest in the delusions of a defeated foe, Morgan hooked the other leg over his own ankle to secure the lock and make the idiot focus more on defense than talking.

"Assuming that cycle is slang for 'kill', then you're mistaken about how much of a threat you are." Corrected the Professor calmly and shifted his attention from the harmless Satyr over to the actual fight. "I can just wait for your arm to give out and take the key from your unconscious body. Honestly, I only made the offer because I wanted to watch their fight without having to check back on you. Now either struggle, give up, or take a nap like your brother."

"He's not my-Herk!" Pete choked, but that was all Morgan allowed as entertaining the little shit's prideful struggle was grating on his last good nerve.

On the other side of the barge, the battle between experienced Cultivators promised to be a gold mine of data he could collect. The only thing keeping the opportunity from being perfect was his inability to use the Bloodline. Hopefully, a certain jackass's pointless struggle would end, and he'd be able to observe without fear of discovery.

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With mundane vision, he watched Purple Cloak dance around the hulking thug Boss, nimbly dancing between hammering fists that looked like they could fall a tree. The whole while, his ally spoke to the foe with icy politeness that sounded as if they were rivals having lunch.

"Honored Sage, you should not be so rigid in your thinking." Counseled the Hound and was forced to roll to the side as rejection came in the form of a fresh bolt of false lighting. "Don't think of my offer as an interrogation that would mean a betrayal to an organization you have likely spent years clawing up the hierarchy. Instead, consider it an interview where answering my questions can award you something the Filo could never provide. A future away from crime and poverty with a real possibility to Rank up. After all, the Bath House is always looking for competent Cultivators to protect it. Clearly, you can do that with your eye closed."

Bronte must've found the proposition less than ideal as two more bolts fired at either side of the cloaked foe, even as the Sage charged forward. Purple Cloak was being corralled, the cyclops forcing her to backstep towards the waist-high wall, acting as the barge's guard rail.

Backing a quicker opponent against the wall was an excellent strategy, at least in theory.

Purple Cloak was like an uncatchable feather fluttering in the turbulence created by the bulk Bronte. When they finally reached close enough to the rail that the Hound stepped on its afternoon shadow, she again fell right through the deck like it wasn't even there. At first, the Scientist suspected she had some kind of intangibility Skill, but what happened next shattered that hypothesis entirely. For the Scientist finally caught the other half of the Skill.

As the Caesar's bottom half sunk in front of Bronte, the shadow cast by the Cyclops silently rippled like gelatin before a pair of legs simultaneously rose out of it. Empty Bridge lived up to its name as it didn't affect a Cultivator's tangibility at all. It created an Einstein-Rosen bridge, a portal between two faraway points in space. In this case, the Skill likely connected two shadows big enough for the user to slip in and out of.

The Professor was impressed and desperately wanted to use Perception to capture every detail, but a tiny voice inside his mind grumbled at the display of yet another teleport-like ability.

If Vajrayana just handed out the pinnacle form of transportation like candy at Halloween, then why had Morgan found his bucket empty? Did the Heavens despise him or something?

Well, at least the Skill had some limitations, as not only did Purple Cloak need to fall down a hole before doing anything, but she also came up facing the same direction she went in. So, it took a second for the user to turn around and attack, which could've provoked an attack if the opponent wasn't blind.

Indeed, unaware of the Hound's escape, Bronte interlaced her fingers and swung both massive arms in as wide an arch as possible to ensure a hit that had already become impossible to land.

Immposable, until it wasn't.

"Exitus." Said Bronte, and following that all too familiar word, a two-handed warhammer of orange bronze suddenly appeared already in her grip. What should have been a failed swing transitioned flawlessly into the deadly spin of a shot put athlete mid wind up.

By the time the Hound realized the counterattack was coming, she could see her shadowed reflection in the polished face of the hammerhead.

*Clang!* The air rang as the hammer's shaft was caught by the knives crossed together.

Attempting to block the attack would've been like a vanilla Human stopping a charging bull by grabbing the horns. Improbable in the first place, and even if accomplished, that act would be incredibly stupid as now the Human would need to wrestle for control with an enraged bull.

Blessedly, the Hound was smarter than that and decided to once again become the fluttering feather. She leaped backward in the air, offering as little resistance as possible so the hammer pushed rather than crushed.

The Professor's eyes opened a fraction more as excitement for the battle made his breath quicken. Perhaps one little peek with the Bloodline wouldn't hurt… Right?

"I can see the fear in your eyes. I bet- I bet you feel like a fool now, prisoner. Blinding her was pointless." Pete managed to say as the Professor had unconsciously lessened the pressure on the hold. He would correct that after the Satyr. "The Boss might be a berserked monster ripped straight out of the Hells when she pissed, but she doesn't need to see to kill Noble bastards."

"You got one out of three statements right." Said Morgan, watching as the Caesar flew meters through the air before touching down. When she did, more crackling lighting forced her on the run again. "Your Boss might've lost the ability to perfectly aim her attacks, but her keen sense of hearing lets her keep track of the opponent's movement. A task made easier thanks to this creaky ass boat squeaking at the slightest application of weight. Her intellect is nothing to dismiss either, as she realized when the Hound's footsteps can't be heard, there's danger. That's why she struck at her shadow just now and at the start of the fight. A clever trick as anyone can tell where their own shadow is by feeling what side of the body is facing the sun. So long as your Boss can stay away from other large shadows, the Hound is limited in using Empty Bridge. The Sage must've trained hard to fight while blindfolded, but she can only react to sound and predict enemy behavior without her sight."

Their fight had become a game of cat and mouse once more, only now the enraged cat was forcing the fleeing mouse towards the port bow. On the left side of the barge, any shadow big enough to jump through would be cast over the poisoned swamp. A fact Bronte likely planned for. Consequences be damned, Morgan might need to intervene unless Purple Cloak had another trick up her sleeve.

"How do you know all that about the Boss?" Pete hissed in shocked alarm.

"She constantly wore a helmet that almost blocked out all light and needed it to use a major Skill. If she hadn't trained the way she fought, then this fight would have been over by now." He chuckled dryly, even as he wondered where said helmet had rolled off to.

"So you have a Dimensional Ring as well." The Hound mused aloud, calm and collected even while pressured. "One big enough to store your weapon. I have to ask, did you steal it, or was it a reward for being a good employee?"

"I bought it with my own hard-earned Drachma. Not that your kind would know about earning anything." Sneered Bronte, periodically swinging her weapon to maintain distance. "Did the Clan award you a ring for being born from the right cunt."

"Grauf-ufufu! They gave me several rings, actually." She admitted with a laugh, despite being less than a meter away from the shadowless guard rails. "One for treasures, one for casual use, and one for surprise traps. I am blessed by the Heavens to have such a caring family."

"Three powerful Artifacts given to a spoiled child." Scoffed the thug in disgust. "What a waste! I don't know how I missed them the first time, but when I take them off your corpus, I'll be sure to thank-"

Realizing what the Hound had divulged, the Cyclops's useless eye blinked in surprise before her skin visibly paled. For a brief fraction of a second, Bronte's assault was slowed by the possibility of falling for a trap.

Which, in itself, was the trap.

"Exitus!" The Hound yelled with more gusto than ever before and threw her knives.

Morgan tried searching for whatever Purple Cloak had summoned, yet he saw nothing pop into existence. Because it was a trick, he realized, seeing through the deception instantly. A luxury he had taken away from Bronte. He followed the weapons first as one knife flew directly for her milky eye, only for the thug boss to deflect the predictable attack.

*Clang*

The first blade bounced off the hammer and tumbled towards the Human and Satyr, only to embed itself two meters from them. The other went right between the Bronte's thighs to slam into the deck, exactly where her shadow was. Instantly, she twisted around and brought the war hammer straight down, intending to bludgeon the foe like a stubborn nail.

Of course, all the instrument of destruction did was smash right through the deck and send a tremor throughout the barge. Understanding her mistake, Bronte tried pulling the hammer free, but the Hound wasn't finished yet.

Instead of retrieving her weapons, Purple Cloak found it much more expedient to simply vault over her dismayed opponent and punch the evil bitch right in the eye.

"RAAAHHHHHH!" Thundered the Sage, stumbling back, but covered her retreat by willing the Sky Lord's Wrath cloud to send wild webs of lighting in every direction in a meter bubble behind her. When Bronte felt the guardrail behind her, she ripped it off the boat and hid behind the makeshift shield while screaming, "Again with the eye!?! No more! I'd rather burn this whole barge down and risk the swamp than let a single one of you live! Did you really think I would-"

*Clap!* With more strength than Morgan believed her frame capable of, the Hound brought her hands together.

The Professor glanced at her, curious to know if this call for attention was a trick, a Skill, or the start of a mocking applause. As it would turn out, none of these were correct. It was a signal to the Hound's allies to strike, allies Morgan was ashamed to admit he had forgotten entirely about.

In the man's defense, it had been a long day. A little more than a month ago, he was a senior citizen going to sleep at 9pm and had to worry about a fall ending his life.

*Pop* The sound that came from the cabin behind him was almost too faint to hear over the lighting, burning everything in range.

But heard it, he did. So when Morgan saw a black and white Beast suddenly appear within that bubble, her toothy maw already closing around Bronte's left thigh, he wasn't surprised in the least. He was proud.

*Slap* Momo's jaw snapped closed over the limb, her teeth piercing the robes and leather like they were made of paper.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!?" Groned the Sage, but she should've waited for the Beast to give her something to really cry about.

*Snap! Pop* With a mighty twist of her head, Momo shattered the femur, only to disappear just as the Skill did.

The Cloud over Bronte faded as the pain kept her from concentrating on the Skill, or the fight had simply gone out of the Boss. However, this was a fight in the real world, a struggle where death was a real possibility. Only two people decided when this fight ended, and the Hound wasn't satisfied yet.

Before Bronte could even collapse onto the deck, Purple Cloak ran at her former jailer and kicked her square in the chest. The Hound grabbed hold of the section of guardrail still attached to the deck and caught one flailing arm of the Cyclops before she fell overboard. Bronte managed to keep her feet on the deck, but with most of her body suspended over the water, only the Caesar kept her from falling further. As evident by the scarlet red blossoming on the gray pants, a swim now would be as deadly as any lightning bolt or war hammer.

"It would appear that our negotiations have come to a close." The Hound said, her voice straining under the new burden. "So Sage, will you accept an interview, or will you die for the sake of the Filo conglomerate?"

When Bronte didn't answer immediately, Caesar's hand 'slipped', and her head got so close to the water's surface that her hair bun became submerged.

"I'll talk!" The Sage promised frantically. "I'll tell you everything!"

"Excellent." Grunted the Hound. "Now I'll need you to swear some Oaths before we get started. You should swear them quickly, because I'm not letting you up before you're done."