For the first time, Mahon had trouble following his opponent through the Flow. It was true that the woman was Flowing too, but there was something else. As if she was empty inside. Without any rhythm.

Her attack pattern grew incredibly complex as she prevented Mahon and Zac from reuniting.

As long as they were separated, they couldn’t escape. At least Mahon couldn’t let Zac alone against the woman. She’d just kill him without a second thought, and the noble wasn’t strong enough to fight her on his own.

The situation resulted in this weird battle where the woman dueled both Mahon from the front and Zac from the back. At first, she had managed to unsettle Mahon, but after half a minute of fighting, he calmed himself and regained control. He ignored the almost naked, stoic woman and focused on himself and Zac.

It seemed Zac wasn’t as sensitive as him to the woman’s inhumanity, and when they glanced at each other, they finally started to fight together. They knew they had to group and then escape.

Mahon had dropped the books he had found earlier, but he noticed Zac had a wrinkled paper hanging from his pocket and knew the noble had caught something interesting. If they could escape now, they would even leave with evidence.

Once Mahon and Zac’s connection was restored, the pace of the fight drastically changed. They were fighting as a duo, and the pressure instantly increased on the bodyguard. It wasn’t an easy situation to fight two independent battles, especially now that her two opponents acted in synchronization to make it even harder.

Yet she held her ground, and her attacks grew incredibly more sophisticated. With two swords in hands, she had more possibilities to play with, and it was now evident she was an expert with dual swords.

Mahon wasn’t fighting with his favorite weapon in his best conditions, but he was still strong enough to force the woman to focus mainly on him. And the more she had to deal with him, the more Zac had leeways to pierce her guard.

She lunged at Mahon, sword first, but he pushed her weapon aside in an elegant gesture. The counterattack came in a flash, and the woman had to use her second sword to parry the attack. She tried to tie Mahon’s sword to her own, while her other sword came back at full speed to Mahon’s flank.

Mahon stepped aside and dodged while the woman blocked Zac’s attack in extremis. She pushed the noble back, but before she could follow up with another attack, Mahon went on the offensive again. She danced around his sword and launched her own attack to force Mahon to retreat.

In a swift motion, Mahon parried the bodyguard’s sword and snapped back at her left shoulder. The move had been too quick, and with her swords in poor positions, she was forced to press herself against the wall to dodge the swipe.

Doing so, she opened a space large enough for Zac to join Mahon. The noble saw the opportunity and immediately rushed in while stabbing at the woman to prevent her from blocking his way.

But she didn’t stay motionless and suddenly flipped her hand grip on her left sword. One sword upward, one sword downward, she moved her feet in a strange pattern. Time seemed to stop for an instant as the woman was still in the strange posture while Zac rushed past her.

Mahon witnessed the scene, frozen. He knew this stance.

How could he not? He had played a part in its creation.

The move was an ode to life. It embodied vitality and zest for life. It was a move born from a dance. A spin you made while laughing out loud, breathing gaiety and exulting amusement.

A move born from one of his most cherished memories of Nightmare. It combined pleasure and delight in a delicate, yet deadly, motion.

In Mahon’s mind, such a beautiful, emotional move conflicted strongly with the detached, cold woman. She had no rights to hold such a stance. To dare such a move.

She lacked everything that made it what it was. With her heartless demeanor, she insulted the person who had created this very move. The only person who should be able to do it.

It can’t be…

“Margot…?” Mahon whispered, his sword almost dropping from his hand.

The built-in muscle tension snapped, and the bodyguard was sent spinning at astounding speed. She moved her swords to control her trajectory and aimed to intercept Zac, the inverted grip helping her stabilize her course.

The corridor was too narrow for the spin to be dodged, and Zac also saw an opportunity in her attack. Her spin was deadly, but she didn’t seem to be able to stop it at will. Zac reflexively did what he always did in such a case. Exploit the weakness.

He placed his sword in the woman’s way, at an angle she’d have trouble deflecting it. Doing so, he exposed himself to the bite of the woman’s swords, and in any other situation, it would have been suicidal. But he wasn’t alone.

Zac glanced at his friend, knowing Mahon could move in a flash to protect him. It was a bold move, but he knew Mahon would help him, and they would bring the woman down.

And yet, as he observed his friend’s expression, he saw something he had never seen before. A look of horror. Of pain. Of grief.

Mahon glanced his way, but his eyes were moving so slowly, Zac finally realized something was wrong. He was too slow. Mahon’s sluggish body finally turned enough that they could exchange a real look. Zac saw Mahon analyze the situation, how each component of what he was seeing was absorbed and considered.

The scene was happening in a flash, but strangely, time seemed to slow down for Zac as he eyed his friend and realized what conclusion he had come to. His look was too telling not to understand.

Zac had walked a step too far.

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He had been warned many times by Slander. And even by Mahon. Relying on his duo was something essential, but as always, there was a delicate balance. Taking unnecessary risks while relying on his duo shouldn’t become a habit.

Because one day, in one place, it wouldn’t work. A stronger than usual opponent. A moment of inattention. A freeze. It didn’t matter. There would be something. And then nothing.

Zac saw it too clearly in his friend’s eyes. Alas, it was too late. He hadn’t noticed before how the woman had affected his friend’s mental state. He hadn’t realized Mahon had frozen as he had recognized his past friend.

And now, he knew Mahon wouldn’t make it in time. Zac had tried a bold move again. He had made the same mistake once too often.

There was no going back, and Zac did the only thing he could think of in such a situation.

He smiled.

He smiled like he had always smiled, with a smile full of life and understanding. A smile encompassing and sharing so much, one couldn’t prevent himself from smiling back. And it worked again, even now. He saw Mahon’s lips slightly raised in a weak attempt to reciprocate the gesture.

It was all that Zac needed. His smile grew even wider as the tempest of steel reached him. He didn’t feel anything as a sword cut his throat open. His eyes stayed as unwavering as his smile, focused on his friend until life left his body, and he collapsed.

----------------------------------------

The scene happened in an instant, and Mahon had been too shocked to react. His brain had worked in slow motion while he witnessed his last most cherished friend kill his now most cherished friend.

And he hadn’t been able to prevent anything. Something built up in his chest as the situation finally sank into his bones.

Zac is dead. Margot killed him.

No. Margot is dead. This… thing isn’t her. It can’t be.

The heartless woman pushed Zac’s body to the side and turned to face Mahon. Clearly, the fight wasn’t done for her. She charged at him, but Mahon didn’t move.

Should I kill Margot?

Even after what had happened, the thought sent his mind spiraling into indecision. He didn’t know. The bodyguard was just a step away from him, but he still hadn’t moved. His sword was loosely hanging from his right hand, ready to fall.

It’s not her! Margot was full of life and bright. This monster can’t be her.

Fury built up within his chest, and Mahon did something he hadn’t done for a long time.

Since Margot died, actually.

He let his feelings overwhelmed him and immersed himself even deeper in the Flow. His mind cleared instantly, but it was not rationality that guided him. It was his pain.

The bodyguard’s sword grazed his shoulder when Mahon stepped to the side. It was a single step, but he had been executed with so much elegance that Mahon disappeared. His brain processed what had happened without really trying to understand it. He simply observed.

The thirteenth Step.

He reappeared behind the bodyguard and beheaded her in one swift motion. She didn’t even see it coming.

Rage boiled inside him, and Mahon expanded his senses outwards. He saw Jorik, the counselor and the backer, running to them, attracted by the sound of battle. Without thinking, he stepped forward and appeared right in front of the backer.

His sword pierced the man’s heart, and he died with a shocked look on his face.

“Mahon!”

Mahon ignored Jorik’s call and turned to the counselor. He could see the surprise in his eyes, and something different hidden deeper inside. Was it fear? Or guilt?

She didn’t run, though, and faced him without shivering. Even her rhythm didn’t show much of her real thoughts. His wrath was kept in check for an instant at the fearless behavior, and Mahon hesitated.

It was all that was needed for Jorik to grab his hand and run away. Mahon let himself be carried by the noble, his brain just a spectator of what happened to him.

Jorik unsheathed his sword and broke through a window. They were only on the first floor, and the fall wasn’t high. The two warriors landed in a smooth roll before Jorik led Mahon further away. He ran directly to the door, but a patrol was already set on intercepting them.

Mahon flashed and reappeared within their group. He raised his sword to impale a guard when Jorik’s voice reached him.

“Don’t kill them!”

On full autopilot, Mahon didn’t question the order and switched his stab to a hilt in the guard’s face. The man hadn’t even noticed Mahon was at his side, and he collapsed on the ground without a sound.

With eerie motions, Mahon incapacitated the other three guards. He kicked one in the crotch, punched another in the chin, and elbowed the last one in the throat. The three fell in a coordinated manner, each with a different posture.

The first one’s face was all red, and his struggle was obvious from how he was pressing his two hands between his legs. The second collapsed on himself like a house of cards, the blow rendering unconscious even before he started to fall. The last one held his throat while he fought to inhale some air through his obstructed trachea.

Mahon noticed everything, but his face remained detached as he stepped to the side and teleported back to Jorik’s position. This time, the noble didn’t seem too surprised at Mahon’s apparition and grabbed him again by his hand.

“Just run.” He instructed. “Let’s get away from here.”

Mahon obeyed without a second thought, and he ran beside the noble. A bell started to ring somewhere in the residence, and Mahon noticed guards rushing to them from every direction.

Something in him itched to go and fight there, but Jorik’s grip held him back. The First Black was also Flowing, and they had no trouble zigzagging between the sparse guards coming their way. They shouldn’t delay, though, as more and more arrived from the residence and even the streets.

City guards must have been warned too, as Mahon saw a nearby patrol running to the property. The two students reached the gates without having to fight, but a group of guards were already blocking their way there, and they knew they wouldn’t have a choice.

“No killing.” Jorik ordered again before the two rushed into combat.

There were seven guards against the two men, but they didn’t even stand a chance. They managed to block them for an impressive three seconds before they were all grunting on the ground, out of combat.

The duo finally exited the residence and sprinted away. They lost their pursuers easily, even in the noble district. Two highly trained men with the Flow weren’t something a few patrols could stop.

Jorik dragged Mahon deeper into the noble district. The noble didn’t plan to lead them back to school. Instead, he drove them to a big residence, probably belonging to the Theodred family.

He didn’t even have to knock as the door opened as soon as they came close. A servant welcomed them inside, but Jorik ignored him. He went directly to his own room, Mahon in tow. When they arrived inside, he locked the door and dropped on the floor. He sighed deeply before glancing at Mahon, who was still standing in the middle of the room, his sword dropping blood on the floor.

“By the Fada.” He swore. “What happened there? How did you even…” Jorik paused as he realized Mahon was in no state to answer. “Just sit down and relax.” He finally said.

Mahon exited his groggy state just as Jorik spoke. The Flow stopped, and he connected back with reality and his usual senses. It didn’t last long, however, as his mind immediately shut down from exhaustion, and Mahon collapsed, unconscious.