Henry Golden Heart was in the middle of lunch when a city guard barged into the restaurant. All the other patrons looked on, concerned at the situation. The guard, a young man with a blond mustache, marched up to Henry and knelt on one knee.

Henry looked at the sandwich he had been about to consume and sighed, “Speak.”

The young man answered in a low tone, one that Henry could hear clearly, but the other patrons would struggle to, “Lord Shadow Fist has requested your aid in capturing a silver demon. We have him cornered on a rooftop.”

“Why can’t you just overwhelm him with numbers? There’s what, fifty of you guards?” Henry asked. Was Shadow Fist really so desperate?

“He is tier two, with the draft of all tier two’s being in effect, the body count to apprehend him would be very high,” The guard said.

Henry’s eyes widened. The boy had made it to tier two, that was impressive. It also explained why the guards were so wary. Henry could understand why they were wary of anyone with a metal kern. The advantages it gave to combat would often allow them to fight a tier above their actual level. It was the reason why the alchemist was able to destroy civil protectors like they were a joke. Metal was the least useful in crafting but balanced out with raw killing power.

Dropping a silver parce, which was around ten times what the meal was worth. Henry picked up his BLT and motioned for the guard to lead the way. He sent his squire off to go collect his armor and weapons, then followed the guard to the standoff. The squire was another of Elder Forest's nephews, though from his brother. The twelve-year-old had yet to determine his kern but was dead set on learning to be a warrior. He did everything with exuberance, which Henry supposed was normal for a boy.

Shadow Fist saw them approaching. Henry was surprised, he hated the man, but for a tier two, he was a monster. Bandages covered most of his left arm and his right had a wrist splint. A massive bruise covered half his face. It took Henry a moment to realize what had happened.

He started laughing, “Your son beat the crap out of you, didn’t he?”

Shadow Fist glared at him, his eyes flicked down to the sandwich, “At least I’m not frivolously wasting the Caldera’s resources.”

Henry held up the sandwich at eye level and pulled out a strip of bacon. He started eating it slowly. Unfortunately, Shadow Fist could barely be called human. No sign of desire could be seen, the dozen or so guards within line of sight looked jealously at the meat. The Golden Hearts built their business on greed, specifically short sighted greed. It was the reason why Henry hated Shadow Fist, the man never betted against the house because he wanted to own the house. The problem was, that it was Henry’s house.

The squire returned with a backpack full of the gold half plate that Henry wore. It was simple steel, artifacts would have been better, but getting a full set of artifact armor was a pain. The only artifact pieces he had were gauntlets that boosted his stealth. He hated that despite the higher tier he could only be an inferior reflection of Shadow Fist.

Shadow Fist started describing the situation while Henry put on his plate. The armor weighed almost three hundred pounds and would protect him from nearly anything. Most tier fours needed armor, or a kern that innately increased their mass at some point. They just had too much strength and too little friction with the ground. That went double for Henry, as light kerns were naturally fast.

“Did you say he has acidic blood?” Henry asked. It was not an ability that a metal kern should possess.

If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Shadow Fist nodded and unwrapped his bandages, revealing flesh that had suffered from necrosis. It was healing, but it was clearly painful. Shadow Fist expounded, “I suspect that he has a metal and dark kern, which is why I called you. Your natural resistance to darkness should make you immune to it, at least from a source two tiers lower.”

Henry begrudgingly nodded. That was true, the body count would have been truly ridiculous if Shadow Fist had tried to pry him out with low tier guards. His mind went back to Sir Ren. The blacksmiths had not made him a new sword, so he was stuck using the tier two machete. That man had a dark and earth kern. The idea that a tanky assassin who specialized in heavy weapons terrified Henry. Sneaky and berserker should never go together.

“Remember don’t hurt him. We don’t just need him alive, we need his cooperation,” Shadow Fist said as Henry snapped the latches that tightened his gauntlets.

“I won’t hurt your son, sheesh,” Henry said, “Though I do intend to put the fear of me into him.” He locked eyes with the boy and smirked, “You call him Sage now, right?”

Shadow Fist sighed, getting a smile out of Henry, “That is what the records say.”

The building was owned by a cobbler who had come upon hard times. With a shortage of leather for shoes, he had to resort to an older wooden design. Henry only knew of him because his wife made a sauce that was sold to the local restaurants. In fact, the BLT he had just consumed had some on it. People had accused her of using an addictive agent in it, which had turned out to be true. Henry could not understand the complaints when the same man would go to the bar one day and complain the next about being fed something addictive.

Henry unsheathed his machete, it was a short sword meant for hacking. It was not his preferred combat style, as he was a fencer, but it was better than nothing. He took the steps up the outside of the building, watching for anything that could be dropped. It was unlikely that anything here could really harm him, but it was always better safe than sorry. Not a very profitable motto for his business.

He made it to the top uneventfully and inspected the rooftop. It was full of shelves, which were full of flower pots. The pots had pink poppy flowers growing from them. She still hadn’t given up on her business then. Some spices and herbs were also growing, but they were in the minority. Wires wrapped around everything. If Henry charged in he would trip and most likely tangle himself up.

In the center of it all sat the silver devil. He had one hand shoved into a potted pant’s soil. The poppy was dead. In his other hand, he loosely gripped a knife. It was large, almost as long as his machete. The edge was translucent, and from simple geometry, Henry knew it was razor sharp.

“So, we can do this the easy way or the hard way,” Henry said, “Think about how you’ll be serving the Caldera.”

In the back of his mind, he said, think about the new sword I can get with that service. He was selfish, he could admit that to himself.

Tristan sighed, “You civil protectors are really hit or miss aren’t you? Are you sure you’re even tier four? Because Regis, he was a beast. Cole was a giant. You’re a child by comparison.”

“Kid gloves off then,” Henry muttered. He would not let a child disrespect him.

He cut through the wires in his way, his artifact more than enough to take care of them. The artifact itself only had the effect of permanently killing trees it cut down. Great for clearing farmland, terrible for combat. He cut through another cord when the boy smirked.

Henry sidestepped the shelf that was tipped over when he cut the wire. Poppies and dirt scattered everywhere. And so did Henry. He tripped over an ankle height wire, causing a second shelf to fall on him. It did nothing more than infuriate him. He tore the wires apart. He could lift almost a ton, and while the wires were strong, he was stronger.

Henry cut the wooden shelf in half, which the artifact did assist in. He found the silver devil and glared at him. Then the boy threw his flower pot at him. Henry was not sure what the point of that was, but he still cut it out of the air with his sword. Mud splattered his face and upper torso.

“You’re disgusting,” He yelled. Then the burning started.

Something ate into his cheeks and eyes. He screamed and flared his light essence. It did nothing, how could it? This was not darkness, but a metal alloy. In a panic, he tore the edge of his tabard off and wiped the mud away. Next, he flared his essence to heal his eyes. His vision came back, but it was blurry.

Henry was furious. Healing from this attack had taken an enormous amount of essence. He blinked his blurry vision and swung at the indistinct figure approaching him. He needed his eyesight back, he needed to see the wires. If he couldn’t then he would die.