He looked around, on guard. The smoke filled his sight, hiding the robed man, giving this stuffy air which was hard to breathe. As a result, he occasionally let out a cough as he stood in place, waiting. it was because moving with this degree of blindness on a rooftop did not sound like a good idea. One simple mistake was all he needed to become a laughingstock as a man slipped to his death in the middle of combat.

It was the least to his concern now, but, still, was not something he hoped for. He readied his weapon, ready to receive anything thrown at him. There was a chance that the man had escaped using the smoke and he was there on guard for nothing. But, Selv denied the possibility. After all, it was the perfect chance to finish him.

He couldn’t be more right as a shadow appeared on the smoke, soon showed itself as a fireball.

Selv twisted his body to dodge. But, form a different direction, came another one.

“Tch.” He clicked his tongue. There was no good way of dodging this one and he couldn’t afford to get hit. So, he was forced to jump from an awkward position, leaving his body defenseless midair.

As he feared, the robed man showed itself in the perfect position, ready to strike him down. There weren’t many choices in the first place. It was either this or suffer a great burn which would result in his defeat in the long run.

He couldn’t dodge the attack, not when there was no footing. Reluctant, he chose the best action he could take which was to block it with his sword. His sword was thin. it was not made to receive a blow. Nevertheless, he reversed grip and place it on his back, praying it won’t betray him.

The attack came, hitting him in the back, followed was a sharp pain and a cracking sound. He grimaced from the pain. But, he was spared from being slash to half. It withstood the attack in exchange for a crack on its body. His prayer was heard.

Selv, however, was still blown away from the force. He rolled a few times to break his fall, and, fortunately, managed to keep himself from falling down, just barely. It wouldn’t end if he fell.

Chasing with his eyes, the man had hidden again. The sharp gaze was following him from somewhere within the smoke, but the next attack didn’t come. He was on his knee, out of breath. It was the perfect chance to finish him. Yet, the man chose to hide again. Whether it was because the man was cautious, overestimated his strength, or had something else in mind, Selv was spared, for now.

Reasons were not that important. He was given time to take a breath and that was all he needed to know. He made use of the little time he had to check on his condition. His back was hot and the wet shirt was sticking close to his skin. There was no fracture. His arms and legs were also good. He was spent, but his will was still strong. He could still fight.

The main problem was his sword. Although it survived, with cracks all over its body, who know many times slash it could handle. At best two or three times and one time at worst.

He rose up, readied himself again. It was a little unexpected, but it seemed there was something akin to sportsmanship on the man since he waited until Selv got up to his feet.

“Thanks for the wait. Now, let’s do the final round,” he said, determination on his eyes. With that as the sign, they resumed the fight.

Selv moved first. His heartache grew furious. It was burning him from within, but he endured. He pushed back everything and ran in one direction.

The break gave him a single plan. A simple but risque plan. But, to execute it, he needed a little time. His opponent was not kind enough to give him an extension. So, he bought it himself by running. His limit was greatly approaching, so did the fireballs, burning his left and right.

He ignored the fireball that had almost hit him in the face and focused. Down, deep within him, there was an old engine. No. It was nothing that advance. Furnace? Yes. It was a furnace. An old, rusted, worn out one to boot.

It an old model that nowadays blacksmiths would gather together only to snort at the relic. There wasn’t any need for appreciation because the only impressive thing about it was the age. It was an inefficient, hard to use, and, not to mention, dusty piece of useless trash. They would doubt it could even be used.

Stolen novel; please report.

Nevertheless, Selv lit it up. The poor materials didn’t burn well and only let out thick black smoke, spreading cough to anyone nearby. Not only the furnace itself, but even the woods and coals were also bad. It was laughable! Yet, Selv was not laughing. To him, it was nothing new.

He let the furnace get warmed up and got back to dodged yet another attack. The man appeared to strike him down. Selv had seen through it. He ducked just in time, countered with a swiping kick. It was dodged and he disappeared again.

He was unable to give a chase since a fireball soon came straight at him. It was quite cheap if he had to say. They say playing dirty was how adults do things. But, using the same move all over again since he couldn’t unless so, wasn’t that childish?

Selv who couldn’t use this kind of magic despite being the only proficient human alive. If he could, there should be many ways to handle this situation. It was a shame he was not blessed in that category. Even so, he had his own way of fighting.

The furnace was all warmed up. A dim light could be seen from the gap at the front. Not anything impressive like the fire happening now on the Business district, or a campfire. It was a weak glow that could lose its color if left alone for a few minutes. Still, it didn’t change the fact that the furnace was working. And, it was enough.

Selv braked, changing the direction, and sprinted. His time limit had reached not too long ago. His chest hurt so much he wanted to gouge it out with his nails. He was unable to breathe and his conscious was slipping away. But, he bit his lips, forcing it to stay for one last attack.

He dodged a fireball coming straight at him and was convinced he was heading the right direction. Up until this moment, the fireballs only came in a linear motion. Even with the cover of the smoke, he was unable to hide how he appeared from the same direction of the fireball. Meaning, he wasn’t a first-rate mage who could attack using magic from any directions. There was where his chance of victory lies.

Selv finally managed to capture his figure. Dodging another fireball came out from the man’s side, he shortened the distance in one go, enough to fan anyone’s anxiety. It showed also at the man as he took a step back, launching what seemed to be an attack out of panic. It was a sloppy attack unthinkable from the previous attacks. It was an attack so poor it barely shaped into a ball.

As Selv easily evaded such attack, he saw the man smirked. A second fireball was right before his face. It was a trap.

The man had splendidly lured him by showing acting of being panicked. The sloppy fireball was just a decoy to hide his real attack.

Selv couldn’t stop in time. His face would eat the fireball faster than him stopping. For him to scheme when he was already in the lead with magic, that was cunning of him!

It wasn’t like he didn’t scheme something himself. He was waiting for a moment like this. The moment where he was close enough to him and he was full of his victory.

Selv opened his furnace and blew a strong air, spreading all the pilled dust and dirt inside, giving it a strong glow for but a short moment. He unleashed the glow when it was at the peak, sending a wave of energy to flow through his body and the sword which was close to his extension.

An instant. His body was pushed past human’s limit. Another instant. The fireball was sliced half. The separated parts gazed his cheeks, burning some of his hairs before passed through him.

This act surprised both parties. One for the feat of cutting magic and the other for succeed it doing so.

The act of cutting magic was by no mean a simple feat. Magic was the other law of this world. Which means normal method wouldn’t be able to touch it, even if it shaped like a fire. Splashing it with water, not to mention erasing it with wind pressure, was impossible. Because it worked with a different law, such actions were no different than trying to cut a ghost with a sword.

The only way to fight against it was by moving under the same law. Meaning, by using magic. And, that was what Selv did.

He hadn’t really used it in a while, so he was worried. But, it seemed humans wouldn’t forget the thing they learned that easily.

The man staggered, stuck on the spot. Selv thrust his sword, going for the stab. What followed was the sound of a flesh being pierced. Selv and the man stared at each other. Silence enveloped the air. The silence was broke soon after by the sound of water dripping to the ground.

Selv put his hand to his waist. There was something hard sticking out. He shifted his gaze from the sword that had stopped a short away from the man to his waist. To his surprise, what he saw was a knife digging on his body and his bloodied hand.

It was a knife he had seen before. Which was strange. The last time he had seen it, the thing was embedded on a roof somewhere. How did it found itself on him?

The wind stopped blowing, showing a clear state of things. The fire hadn’t been put out. People were still noisy in the distance. Stars in the sky blinked repeatedly, as if in disbelieve of what they were seeing.

Selv fell to his knee, hand bloodied with his own blood, a knife digging deep into his side. While, on the other hand, the man was looking down at him with no apparent damage anywhere on his body.

His attack didn’t reach the man in time. Selv had lost.