Talon was walking down the hallway when, suddenly, he felt the ground shaking beneath his feet. The students around him scurried about like cockroaches, their faces painted with fear as the hulking figure of Iren Karros turned the corner. Iren was no man, but rather a force of nature. He topped six feet tall or more, and the muscular build to his body suggested that even a tree could snap under his mere touch. He was every bit as tall as he was formidable in his reputation—a self-proclaimed university's most dangerous fighter—and he wasn't far from the mark. Iren had already lost his brother, Serak, to Talon, and now it seemed that it was his turn.

Iren's eyes had fastened upon Talon, bright with a murderous intent—anger unmistakable. He ran down the hall as if he were a bull in rage, brushing aside anyone foolish enough to stand in his way.

"Talon fuckin' Revas, Iren growled, his voice like thunder in the corridor. "You think you are special cuz you could bring my brother down? You were lucky with him. Now you have to deal with me."

Talon didn't flinch, standing with his arms crossed, the ice in his eyes fixed on Iren's burning gaze. "Your brother was a moron. Too slow, too predictable. It seems foolishness is a family trait."

The corridor fell silent. Students standing far away were stone-statue-like, their eyes between those two, thinking that maybe they would see a bloodbath. Iren clenched his fists; every shot echoed with the crack of knuckles.

"Watch your tongue, Revas," Iren snarled, moving forward until she loomed over Talon. "You're not going to get a say in it when I ram your skull into the floor."

Talon looked up at him with no tinge of pain. "You sound like a record. Broken record, Karros. All brawn, no brains—like your brother. You think it's all brawn, don't you? That's why he lost, and that's why you're going to lose too."

Iren's face contorted in rage. A fist shot toward Talon's head, more like a freight train. Talon is agile and stepped back in time to barely avoid the flying fist that grazed his cheek about inches off from his face. The impact when he hit the wall behind him was thunderous.

A crack spread through the concrete, like a fine spider web.

"Missed," said Talon, with a smirk.

Growling, Iren swung again. Talon dodged under the movement with fluidity that was nothing short of precise. This was no ordinary brawl; it was a deadly dance, and Talon held the lead.

"Is that all you've got? Talon taunted, sidestepping another blow with ease. "With all that brawn, can't you land a lick?"

Iren's face was pink with rage as he hurled himself at Talon with a fierce bellow. But Talon was quicker, sidestepping daintily and striking up with a swift kick to the back of Iren's leg. The bigger man stumbled forward and regained his balance instantly, but his eyes flared with a fierce glow of intensity.

"Iren spat, 'You coward! Stand and fight me like a man!

Talon cocked his head to one side, grinning. "Why should I? You're a block of walking meat. Already I've won this fight—you just don't see it."

He charged again, and Talon met him head-on. Instead of a blow, Talon ducked low, using the flat of his palm to slam into Iren's abdomen, hitting at a pressure point. Iren grunted, his body locking up for a split second. That was all Talon needed.

He ducked behind Iren, striking with a series of accurate hits at his back and legs—that hit yet another pressure point, a nerve, and a muscular weakness. Iren's broad shoulders now only made him drag himself; his muscles slowed him and made him an easy target to Talon's speed and accuracy.

Iren swung wildly trying to get hold of Talon, but was like smoke slippin' away. Every time his hands reached for Talon, the latter was gone, laughing and dancing away with infuriating ease.

"Seven martial arts, is it?" Talon sneered. "Pretty impressive. Though I've mastered ten. You're not even in my league."

"Fuck you!" Iren bellowed, swinging wildly with another kick that went several miles wide.

Talon circled him, like an animal stalking its unsuspecting quarry. "You rely on brute force, Iren. That's your flaw. You think it is because you can bust down walls that you have a right to break people. But you are wrong. True power isn't in the muscle, but control. And now I am the master of this battle. Power over you. Iren wheezed now, sweat pouring over his face. He was slowing, rage and exhaustion obscuring his good sense. Talon could see it in his eyes—the frustration gathering and the growing realization he just couldn't hit this guy—that he was being outpossessed.

Then Talon moved closer, close enough to feel the ragged breathing against his skin. "You thought with your size, with your reputation, that you would intimidate me. But that means nothing when the opponent is more cunning than you are. You're no different than Serak—too stupid to realize you're being played."

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Iren roared in a deafening bellow and swung a punch with all his might, and Talon sidestepped with ease, but in one swift, precise motion, he struck Iren's wrist and felt the jolt of the pain shooting through his arm. Iren's hand dropped, and his punch dissipated because he lurched forward. Talon recoiled but watched in horror as Iren sank to one knee, holding his wrist tight. The great once-mighty warrior was now on knees before him, struggling for air, defeated not by sheer force but by skill and cunning. "Look at you," Talon said, his voice dripping with disdain. Down on your knees, like your brother was. Pathetic." Iren looked at him, his chest heaving with effort, but there was no energy left to fight. He won, but not with fists nor brawn, but with strategic planning, with smarts that made him better. "You have power, Iren," Talon continued, stepping closer. "But power without control is just chaos. You're never going to beat me, because you don't know how to really dominate a person. You can break bones, but I can break wills. And that is why you're going to lose-fuck-ingly always." Iren's eyes flared with hatred, but he didn't have the strength to stand. Talon turned away and left to think without another word, leaving the giant hanging in defeat. The crowd watched that fall, silent with shock, as they witnessed it. They were to see only the defeat of Iren Karros, the greatest warrior supposed of the campus. And it wasn't a fist that brought him down but a piece of Talon's mind. Everyone now realized that the battle against Talon Revas was a battle not of muscles but of brains, and Talon had never lost such a battle of wits.

--------

It was across one of the sitting rooms of the university that Talon sat in, a cup of coffee in his hand, when the door creaked open and Lira Esthalis stood there, electric air swirling around her. She moved across the room with authority, which made her hips swing and every step a fluid motion. Her eyes almost sparkled with predatory confidence that had caused more men to surrender than any institution here could possibly count.

Breathtaking; no getting around it. Raven-black hair tumbled down over her shoulders, framing a face that had to be described as flawless: rosy lips painted deep crimson. Clad in an outfit sleek enough that it suggested rather than revealed, she wielded beauty like a weapon with clear practice. Lira didn't enter rooms—she commanded them, claimed them as her own—and Talon figured he was going to be the next prize on her list.

"Talon," she purred, her voice infused with some seductive undertone, as if she already owned him. "I've been looking for you."

Talon raised his head from the coffee. He wasn't ruffled. "Have you, now?" he asked coolly, his tone unstirred.

She took that as his cue, walking over to sit beside him, much closer than professionally proper. The perfume she used was overpowering—build down your guard and soon blur one's senses. She openly displayed her cleavage as her hand caressed his arm lightly. "I think we need to talk," she said softly against his ear.

Talon didn't move at all, letting her know nothing was getting by him. His eyes focused on his coffee, allowing her little flicker of his attention. "Well, say your piece, then," he said in a deadpan voice, very clearly disinterested by the game she was about to start.

She was accustomed to reactions: wide eyes, a flustered expression, men stumbling over their words. But Talon's complete, utter disregard for her beauty utterly stunned her. Still, she didn't care. Smiling, she adjusted her seat, allowing her leg to brush against his. She leaned forward ever so slightly, her lips curling into a seductive smile that had once buckled even the sturdiest of men to his knees.

"You're an interesting person, Talon. So dark, so powerful," she said softly, her voice barely audible above a whisper. "It must be a burden to carry all this weight on your own shoulders alone. Let someone help you then. I can make things. easier for you."

She permitted her fingers to creep down his arm, touching softly, playfully, so it seemed she would just wait him out till he would beg for a quarter. The unreceptive attitude was chipping at Talon's composure, so she pushed on, intent on cracking that cold exterior.

"I've always admired you, you know," she purred, her voice taking on a sultry tone. Together, you and I could be unstoppable. You're strong, and I have a way of inspiring people."

She humped forward, her warm breath brushing on the curve of his neck, her lips inches from his ear. "Just think it," she whispered. "You and me. No one in the world could stop us."

Talon shifted, but not as Lira had expected. He did not turn to face her but lay back in his chair, stretching the distance between them. His eyes were now cold and calculating as they locked onto hers.

"You really think that's going to work?" he asked, his voice sharp and dismissive.

Lira blinked, taken aback. No one ever spoke to her like that—as if she were the one out of her depth. She steadied herself quickly, however, and gave him a sultry smile.

"I don't think I get what you're trying to say," she said, positioning herself again, her cleavage almost falling out of her top. "I'm just proposing. a partnership."

For a moment, his eyes drifted down to her chest, but it was not a look of desire. Instead, Talon saw a flickering spark of something quite other: contempt.

"You think you can break me to your whims like all the other suckers you've collected? Talon's voice had dropped to ice, his eyes piercing through her. "Do you seriously believe that I am one of those spineless marionettes you can manipulate with a smile and a revealing dress?

Until Lira, she'd never known the shattering of her confidence. She'd never met a man who stood impassive to her charm, who hadn't at least been swept in by her appearance and sparkling personality. There's always been Talon. He stood apart, a man who wasn't just resisting her; he could see through the facade, could stare straight into her core.

"I...I'm not trying to manipulate you, Talon," she stammered, her sultry voice faltering and giving way to uncertainty. "I just think we could benefit from —

"Cut the crap," Talon said, his voice slicing through her words with a precision that made her wince. "You use your face and your charm to manipulate every poor schmuck within a ten-block radius. You're good at it, I'll admit that. But this time you're playing the wrong fucking person."

Lira's eyes stretched a fraction wider, and the mask of seduction she'd worn so willingly for him was cracking. She was rattled now, obviously so, and Talon loved it.

"You thought you could just waltz in here, flash a little skin, bat your eyelashes, and just fall in line like the rest of your sycophant suck-ups," Talon continued, his voice low, menacing growl. "But let me make one thing perfectly clear. I don't fall for cheap tricks. I couldn't care less how many suckers you've manipulated with your charm and sweet talk." Lira took a deep breath to calm herself down. "Talon, I didn't

He got up so quickly, he was shrouding her in shadow, his vibe crushing. "You came to my place today for seduction purposes—to trap me in whatever scam you're planning. Let me make one thing clear to you, Lira. You're not in charge. I am."

She looked up at him with an assurance entirely shattered. She had never been in such a position; she met a person who didn't get led astray by her charm. Then, she had no idea what to do.

Talon leaned in, his face inches from hers, those icy, unyielding eyes hard and stern. "Get out of my face before I make you wish you'd never tried this with me."

Lira shot up, breathing hard in her throat as she tried to back away with stumbling steps, her cheeks inflamed with a mix of embarrassment and fear. She had been in a battle her whole life, but for the first time ever, she felt utterly outmatched—not by some much more formidable opponent, but by someone whose intellect far surpassed her cunning schemes. She shrank back, her eyes wide with amazement, and without another word went to turn and take flight from the room, the frantic beat of her heels clicking on the floor. Talon turned to watch her go, a small smile at the edge of his lips. Lira Esthalis might have been able to bend the will of everyone else at the university but never of him. And now she knew it. As she left, Talon sat back down, nursing his coffee. It wasn't going to be very long now before his other competitors would come hunting for him. And he couldn't wait.