The man blocked every one of his attacks even still. Worse still the man was inching his way forward. He would consistently take a half step forward after every blow. Time to put my plan into action. Maxwell grabbed onto one end of the board lifting the other vertically. He then proceeded to launch it like a spear at the man.

In an instant the man changed his stance. He turned his body sideways. His non-dominant arm behind his body. His stance reminded him of olympic fencers. With blistering speed the man annihilated the wooden board as it came within distance.

There’s no way. With ferocious intensity the plank turned out splinters and sawdust. He was no longer human, right before his eyes the man transformed into something else. He was more akin to a machine, a jet plane, a formula one car. He had power he knew he couldn’t beat. It was such an overwhelming display of not just strength but skill. He never knew scimitars could even be used like that. At the end of it all with a pile of tree dust in front of him, he straightened, shaking off his blade. Why was that so beautiful? He's trying to kill me. Maxwell snapped out of his awe.This man must have been formally trained. Why is someone like him a thug?

He flexed his icy fingers. I still have fight left in me. I don’t know much about fighting but even I can tell that you’re incredible you’d have to be blind not to see that. Unfortunately for you, your immense skill will be the very thing that leads to your downfall.

Maxwell dashed madly forward.throwing icy projectiles. They formed mid-air, their ends sharpening into a jagged point. There were several possibilities for how the man could react. Dodge, block, parry or melt. Maxwell knew from fighting him, the swiftness of his defense, he was damn near untouchable when he wanted to be. Come on now, dodge already! Willed Maxwell. The man’s sword was raised in front of his body. At the last moment he shifted his feet. The projectiles whizzed past him harmlessly.

Yes! What had seemed like a basic attack was a carefully calculated move. He had stepped back from his former position. Maxwell reached down grabbing a handful of the shredded wood. He formed it in his hands. It froze the wood mixing in with the ice. The limitations of his ice were clear. The man’s flames were far too strong for his ice. He was already close to passing out, he could feel it. Even keeping it up for 10 more seconds felt like an eternity to him.

The man pranced forward, sword poised. Maxwell’s body was exposed with his arms to his side. It was clearly an opening. Before the sword could strike him. He raised the icy-wooden mass to cover him.

He’d once had a lecture long ago. It had been a stupid science assignment. It was about Pyrete- hailed as a so-called supermaterial. A material so resilient it could withstand gunfire. Yet unlike metals like steel or titanium it was so light it could even float on water. It had been researched for military use in order to cheaply build massive aircraft carriers that could withstand attacks. But that wasn’t the most shocking piece of information about Pyrete. It’s ingredients, only two materials, ice and sawdust. They say the whole can be considered the sum of its parts but Pyrete confidently defies those words. Using those common everyday materials it had the power to be truly miraculous.

The sound of the impact was like metal against stone. The ice was formed into a flat rectangular shape. The fire lapped against the surface but it did not penetrate. Maxwell grinned. It’s not melting! It worked so well it barely sunk into the surface at all. I guess the things we learn in school are practical in the real world. Thank you Mr Jenson. Maxwell swung his shield pushing the man back. He reached back to the ground grabbing more splinters. He formed them again, throwing them at the man. THey formed in the air into the same cone structures. The end now deadly points.

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The man’s sword danced brightly. He hit the pieces mid air. Sparks flashed with each strike. The projectiles didn’t break apart as they did before when they were purely made of ice. One ricocheted off the scimitar burying itself deep into the ground. It spun for a moment in place before whirring to a stop. He threw another projectile but that one was blocked as well. It bounced off the edge before continuing on its course safely around the man straight toward one of the frozen statues of the thieves.. In that same instant the man reached behind grabbing the projectile with his bare hand. He swatted it into the ground. Maxwell stopped dead, his mouth formed an “O”. Blood splattered to the ground.

“Why would you do that!” shouted Maxwell. The man’s hand was gone all that remained was a bloody mass. Loose skin and flesh hung freely. There was no saving that, his hand was gone.

“Thank goodness,” said the man. “Thank goodness none of them were hurt.”

What about his hand? Maxwell features twisted in rage. Why was the man so determined to save his subordinates? It was almost like… It stirred uncomfortable feelings inside of Maxwell. It was almost like he was the villain. But that didn’t make any sense, he was the one being attacked, he was simply defending himself from danger. He clutched his chest.

His breath caught in his throat. He was reaching his limit. I need to end this quick. He dashed forward covering himself in a layer of pykrete. They clashed against each other. None of them broke away from the attack. Their feet dug into the ground as they pushed against each other. It would be a battle of endurance. He grit his teeth in a final push.

“What is it, you didn’t think you could actually beat me just because I lost a measly hand!” shouted the man.

The cart exploded, stopping both of them in their tracks. It caught both of them off guard.

“Artorius!” shouted a voice. It was neither Maxwell or the man’s voice. It wasn’t even the frozen bodies of his subordinates. A man dressed in black and grey armour emerged from the ruined cart. A dark mantle fell down his back settling around his feet. He had a mop of black hair and furious eyes.

Maxwell was bashed backward, tumbling over himself. He had gotten distracted by the man. He had let his guard down.

“Artorius, where are y-” the newcomer paused mid roar. his arms still outstretched. He surveyed his surroundings. “Where the hell am I?”

He dusted off broken planks from his shoulder. “What am I doing with all these dead people? Did I lose that badly, the retrieval squad thought I was dead!“ he shouted, smashing a fist into the wreckage.

It was truly a strange day for two people to seemingly come back from the dead on the same day. The strange armoured man scratched his chin. He had a casual air to him but the demeanor of a grizzly bear. He looked at Maxwell and the man.

“I need to regroup with platoon 12’s surveillance and espionage coordinator,” he mumbled to himself. He squinted looking at the man Maxwell was battling. “Sveno the bounty hunter Class C felon. Last seen in the northern Slums.” He eyed the creature on him. “ Oh, is that also an unlicensed fire drake?” The man cracked his neck, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know what the hell’s going on, but I’m bringing you in dead or alive.”

He reached a black gauntlet to his hip. There was an ominous metal squeal as he unsheathed his sword. He raised it taking a double-handed stance.

“Any last words?”

Maxwell was ignored entirely in this exchange; it was as if he wasn’t even there. Sveno simply stood there sword poised, arm dripping.

“What a drag, I hate silent types like you,” complained the man rolling his eyes.”I guess you’re prepared to die then.”