Quickly the facade of class crumbled away as tears poured from the nobleman’s eyes, snot sliding down his lips, drooling like a rabid dog as he flailed his arms, screaming, “Kill them! Kill them now–! Tear them limb-from-limb! I want to hear them scream! Disembowel them! Bring me their heads! Now! Now! Now! Now!”

Stepping before the two men was the enigma himself; the swift, curly-haired man tapped the bottom of his spotless, white boots against the ground, causing them to turn to a golden shade, developing wings on each side of his shoes.

“On it, Boss,” Altair quietly said, staring directly at Bastian.

‘Winged shoes? Is he–’ Bastian thought.

Before he could even fully formulate a thought, the stranger was already directly in front of him. Naturally, his instincts guided him to duck down to avoid the incoming fist of the agile fighter, though–”

“Ghh–!” Bastian gasped out, finding a sharp impact slamming against his chest.

Like a flickering phantom, the man before him had instantaneously changed his stance, instead sinking a devastating kick directly against his sternum with his entire body behind it. He was flung back, rolling across the ground multiple times before coming to a stop.

“--Hff! Haah!”

It was a struggle to force his lungs to remember how to inhale once again, grabbing his own chest as it throbbed from the impact.

‘Impossibly swift. Winged shoes. There’s no mistaking it,’ he thought.

As he rolled over onto his stomach, picking himself up, an unseen kick interrupted him from standing back to his feet.

“Bast!” Gaston yelled from afar, still bound by his cuffs.

The kick didn’t feel as though it came from much effort, yet it still felt as though a bull had rammed its horns against its ribs. He winced, picking himself up as he looked up at the silver-eyed man, who casually kept his hands in his pockets.

“Hermes…You’re blessed by Hermes, aren’t you?” Bastian asked.

Altair tilted his head, blinking a few times before responding, “You’re pretty observant. Correct. And what about you? I doubt that the chain you created was from a spell. Hmm…never heard of a “God of Chains” though. Mind enlightening me?”

“Sorry, it’s a secret,” Bastian responded, flexing his arms as the interlinked steel manifested itself around his forearms.

The sight of the ethereal chains was a new one for even his close friend, who found himself in awe despite the overbearing situation.

“Bast, ya got a Blessing…? I’m happy for ya!” Gaston called out.

Though it wasn’t exactly the time for words of encouragement, as Bastian found himself once again at a loss once his opponent began moving. Standing in place, he looked around, only catching distortions out of the corner of his eyes, feeling the wind against his skin, but unable to lock onto the fleeting figure.

‘Shit–how am I supposed to keep up?!’ He thought.

As the weight of a step landed to his right, the desperate adventurer swept his arm in the same direction, whipping the chain towards–nothing was there.

“Huh–?”

“You’re way too slow, man!” The excited voice of Altair came from behind.

Bastian attempted to spin around, though the moment he began to swing himself around, a force had already slammed against the side of his body. There wasn’t any opportunity to brace for it; a pure, unbridled hit of heightened power.

It felt as though the life was forced from his body in a breathless exhale; the empowered leg of the one blessed by the god of swiftness sending him across the gilded room once more.

“Levin!” He forced the word from his bowels, empowering his body briefly, yet just enough to flip himself around.

As he found himself on his feet, it wasn’t enough as once again, that silver-eyed menace was right in front of him, part-way through a low-leaned dash of his own with his fist cocked back. It was as if he was being pursued by a relentless beast; an apex predator that outmatched him in every physical capacity.

‘What the hell am I supposed to do here? I’m outmatched–simple as that,’ he thought.

The knuckles flashed across the wind, slamming against the bridge of the young adventurer’s nose. A combination of his own forced use of magecraft along with the actual force of the blow caused the young man to recoil as his head shot back, spewing a heaping serving of crimson fluid from his nostrils.

“You’re weak, man. How’d you survive this long? Luck? Guess it’s run out,” Altair said with a sigh deprived of any excitement, shaking the blood from his knuckles.

Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

Like a drunken fool stumbling in the night, the cornered adventurer nearly fell backward, catching himself as he swayed side-to-side, back-and-forth, before stabilizing as blood leaked onto the lavish flooring.

Bastian used his arm to wipe the oozing crimson from his broken nose, locking his emerald eyes onto the confident figure before him, “Luck? Don’t start making excuses before you’ve lost.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Altair folded his arms over his chest with a raised eyebrow, unamused by the snarky words.

Catching his breath, the bandaged man leaned over, placing his hands on his legs before responding through his uneven exhales, “Luck is bullshit. It’s what losers use to justify coming short of the winners. What you think “luck” is, it’s really about being smart enough to place yourself in the right situations. Leading your life towards that one moment, where it all comes together.”

“I must’ve hit you pretty hard. You’re going on and on, not making much sense aren't you?” Altair ruffled his own hair with a concerned look.

Grabbing the bridge of his own nose, Bastian harshly exhaled, causing a lob of thick blood to spray out, holding a newly-found confidence in his smile, “If you’re going to belittle what I’ve gone through by assigning it all to “luck”, I’ll show you what I’m talking about right now. This is the culmination of my “luck”--that last hit helped me remember his name.”

“The hell are you–” Altair began to ask, though found the answer arriving all too soon.

Bastian held his hand against his chest, shouting out the name buried in the depths of his mind, etched into his soul, “Prometheus!”

[“You remembered.”]

A swarm of chains erupted from the ground, tearing through the tiles and encircling the adventurer. Across his skin, black ink printed itself in the shape of chains, glowing to an orange hue as did his irises. In his core, an ember sparked itself into a boundless flame, supplying a heat throughout his body.

The sublime warmth transmitted through his fingertips and to the soles of his feet, soothing the pain in his body as his heart raced, ignited by the grandiose flames.

‘I remember this feeling. This strength…It’s amazing,’ he thought, looking at his hands.

The nobleman who sat on his knees in duress gripped his own face in horror, “It’s not possible! You shouldn’t have that power!”

“Hah…Ha-ha! You’re amazing, Bastian! My best pal is an Invictus!” Gaston celebrated as if there wasn’t a worry in the world.

The sight of the divine transformation was one of beauty and perplexity, one that invoked bitterness in the nobleman, and excitement from the friend of the Invictus.

“So, you are an Invictus, too? Good grief,” Altair said with a tired sigh, readying himself before uttering a divine name of his own, “Hermes.”

Feathers scattered around the unimpressed man, gliding around him as his empowerment arrived seamlessly; his hair blended into a radiance of gold-and-silver, with majestic wings manifesting on both sides of his head, along his boots that arrived into a golden shine. A stream of interconnected feathers arrived as gilded tattoos along his skin.

“That’s better,” Altair remarked as he cracked his neck side-to-side before popping his knuckles.

‘He’s an Invictus as well? I should’ve figured,’ Bastian thought.

As he readied himself, the air felt heavy between himself and the other blessed by divine authority. Bastian didn’t waste a moment, stomping his foot against the ground as the sturdy material beneath cracked, swinging his hand forward as a swarm of chains were commanded forth.

The man with winged boots leaned down before bursting forth, slipping through the wrath of the steel. The shackles whipped around, attempting to grab at the swift figure, though the one blessed by Hermes effortlessly dashed through.

A squeeze of Bastian’s fist ordered the storm of chains to swiftly close in, yet the silver-eyed man vanished with only a trace of golden light in his trail.

‘He’s slippery,’ Bastian thought.

“You’re a newbie, aren’t you?”

The words forced Bastian to spin around, creating a whip to swing violently as he turned to face the man, only to find him already gone. It was as if the feather-tattooed man was simply disappearing and reappearing wherever he so pleased; the constant thrashing of chains only continued to miss its mark.

“Ha-ha! I’m right, aren’t I? I’d say this is maybe your second or third time using your power as an Invictus?” Altair taunted, keeping his arms crossed while continuing to evade the adventurer’s attacks without much effort.

The chains missed their mark as the Invictus of Hermes dashed in like a bolt of lightning, dancing across the wind. All he could truly witness was a flash of radiant light before his eyes, blinded momentarily as the figure of unrivaled speed arrived.

“—Ngh!”

The foot of the agile Invictus struck like a spear tossed from the heavens, thundering against his abdomen.

“Didn’t see that coming, didja?!” Altair’s voice boomed with confidence, driving his light-infused kick deeper.

‘It hurts! But, I can take it!’ He believed.

Sliding back from the divine blow, he flexed his entire body, imbuing a burst of strength into his muscles as he forced a stop. As he squeezed his fists, chains manifested, wrapping them around the shining legs of the one blessed by Hermes.

“Huh—?!” Altair realized.

“Gotcha!” Bastian muttered through clenched teeth.

He swung his body around, extending the nebulous chains as they flung the enemy Invictus by his bound legs. The interlinked steel was twirled around by the movement of Bastian’s arms, slamming the caught speedster through the priceless possessions of the estate.

“Grrrr—! Aegh!” Altair winced, shielding himself with his arms as the chains flung him through rows of brittle antiques.

“No—! My treasures! My beautiful treasures!” Frederick cried out, reaching his hands outward, yet unable to stop the havoc.

An enraged scream emitted like the howl of a beast, echoing from the Invictus of Hermes as golden light flashed from his body.

“Enough—!” Altair yelled with tremendous force.

The grip of the chains was repelled, releasing their hold as the golden figure stood on the air itself. The wings flourished in size, bathed in the seraphic light as it sprinkled down like drops of lavish snow.

“I’ll show you how an Invictus truly fights! This is divine power, in its unrivaled glory!” Altair shouted, his voice carried like a fearsome gale.

The Invictus of Hermes shined like the very embodiment of radiance itself, casting his seraphic presence through the chamber before sprinting across the air itself.