“Someone help me, I'm being robbed!” shouted the cart-owner but the rumble of traffic overwhelmed it.

Null clutched his throat, coughing. Maxwell knew he had landed a solid hit. He had felt his elbow connect with the man’s Adam's apple. The crook of his arm even throbbed slightly. The fact that Maxwell’s pain was only a fraction of the amount he delivered brought a smile to his face.

“Leave me alone,” Maxwell spat at the downed man. Null stared up with panicked eyes, not only from his choking but at the violent face that met his gaze.

“Null are you alright!” said Kur, sprinting over. He leaped into the air, throwing a punch at Maxwell. He turned to face him. Where there one there more. Shall I finish off this guy too? Confusion crossed Kur’s face. Why isn’t this guy moving? I’m throwing a punch directly at his face. Kur had fought many street rats ever since he himself used to be one. They were scrawny and weak. You could always tell who would win by looking at who was in worse condition. There was after all no such thing as a fair fight, if one went in with a broken arm it didn’t matter. Maxwell was way more beat up than Kur. Not just that, his fist was hurtling toward this brown-eyed, urchin’s face; even the toughest of opponents would have flinched or done something. They didn’t simply stand there, relaxed.

Maxwell smirked.

The guy sent the haymaker against his face. Ice crystals flew from the impact, swirling violently in a churning vortex. Kur jumped back clutching his hand. It was swollen in his hand and his knuckles burned. The skin had been peeled clean off his knuckles, as if he had struck a cheesegrater. Kur grimaced at the revealed bone and cartilage underneath.

“Ooh,” said Maxwell grinning at the sight, his breath frosting as he said it. A layer of ice was wrapped all the way up Maxwell’s spine and cheekbones. He played it cool but on the inside Maxwell was jumping for joy. It worked! A complete success! I was able to stop the blow using my ice! I was right to use it on my neck and lower body as well, the whiplash would otherwise have knocked me out!

“That must look like it hurts,” said Maxwell mockingly.

He grabbed a fistful of Kur’s collar. “Now get over here,” he said, pulling him toward the cart. Unfortunately in a battle of strength Kur still had the advantage. Maxwell’s new body was barely a teenager after all. Ignard was only 14. Kur reared back his head, resisting. Even though he was contracting his muscles as hard as he could, Maxwell was slowly being pulled back. Crap, was I always this weak? He twisted his body while his hand remained fixed before grabbing the collar with his other hand as well. Change of plans, I’ll have to use more than raw power. Maxwell lifted his legs off the ground using his entire bodyweight to lurch Kur off balance. Now off balance he was shoved from behind and crashed head first into the cart. The Hadneri creatures tied to the side, shuffled out of the way, snarling.

Maxwell gasped for breath. I was trying to throw him to the ground but I guess that works too. He slammed his foot into the ground. Ice emanated outward, crawling forward and even up the side of the cart. They didn’t have time to move and all parts of their body in contact with the ground and cart were painfully stuck.

“My wagon!” exclaimed the cart-owner.

Maxwell sprinted forward at the immobilised figures. He swung a leg forward, ice already forming.

“This will take you out for good!” Maxwell shouted. His bones already ached from this fight. His muscles were screaming, and the lactic acid was making him lose strength in his limbs.

“What are you doing!” wailed the cart-owner.

Maxwell slammed into the cart where the thugs had been. The wood of the cart splintered loudly. The side was practically caved in, exposing the wares inside. Normally the strike wouldn’t have allowed for it but even the water inside the wood the wall was made out of had expanded, decreasing its structural integrity.

The cart-owner nearly fainted on the spot when he saw the damage. Dammit, they got away, cursed Maxwell. When the dust cleared, the two goons were standing to the side. Pieces of their clothes still lay clipped to the ice. They had somehow managed to break free in the nick of time.

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“Tsk, they’re like cockroaches,” muttered Maxwell. His eyes searched for something to use. They landed on the cart’s large wheels.

“Wait, what are you doing…” said the cart-owner as he followed Maxwell’s gaze. He proceeded to grab its thick spokes and rip the wheel clean off. He hurled it at the pair. They dropped to the ground, narrowly avoiding it.

Null straightened himself to his full height. “It seems you’ve gotten a bit stronger since last time.”

“Psst, isn’t he like way stronger than last time, are we sure we wanna fight him,” hissed Kur to Null. “Maybe we should get back up.”

“Nonsense,” barked Null, his face full of confidence. A dagger appeared in Null’s hands, retrieved from within his vest. Red markings danced along its metallic edge. Hel held it up proudly.

“It’s a shame to use this on you really.” He began. “This here’s a real beauty, it’s from West District. I've been told it’s been passed down for generations as a weapon of death.”

Kur rolled his eyes. “There’s that stupid blade again.”

Maxwell stepped back, eyeing it. Alarm bells were going off in his head. The blade was unknown, It was dangerous. He’d learned the hard way not to underestimate opponents. He’d underestimated Null and Kur the first time he’d fought them, he’d underestimated Sveno as well. Hell, he’d let his guard down by trying to fight him. If he could do that fight again he would have ran. His foolish idea was thinking he could fight Sveno. His foot itched, should he have ran away during this fight? There was still so little he knew about this world.

Null cackled at the hesitation, waving the blade. “That’s right, you’d do well to be wary of this blade, boy.”

He dashed forward. “Unfortunately for you this blade yearns for blood. Be grateful that your worthless little life will be the first that Fonos will taste.”

“Oh god, you’ve named it as well,” said Kur, slapping a beefy hand against his forehead.

Maxwell stared wide-eyed like a deer in the headlights at the incoming attack. Dodge or attack, dodge or attack, dodge or attack.

“That’s right, submit to your fate!” cawed Null.

Even the cart-owner had stopped calling for help as he stared entranced by what the blade could accomplish. Ice enveloped Maxwell’s foot and with great effort he managed to lift it. He inhaled sharply before stomping downwards. His icy foot collided with the blade, it shattered instantly into 472 pieces.

Null’s mouth formed a large “O”. His face was as if everything he’d ever believed in broke along with the blade.

“Whaa, how weak!” exclaimed Kur before covering his mouth. He hadn’t even meant to say it but he was so caught off guard. Kur looked at Null to see if he had heard him but tears were streaming down his face. He held the remains of the blade like a lost child.

“My almighty blade!” he wailed.

Nice reaction, Maxwell sighed in relief. Moments before he was stabbed Maxwell had formed an icy layer around his foot. The ice was thick but that alone might not have been enough to prevent the blade from hurting him. It had taken him a tremendous effort to lift his foot, the reason being because he had attached his icy foot to a cobblestone brick and heaved it out of the ground. The weight of the block that had slowed its ascent had added to the force of the blow downwards onto the blade.

“This dagger was supposed to slay dragons,” mourned Null.

It was Maxwell’s turn to laugh this time. “Must be a knock off, the guy you bought it from must have robbed you.”

“Maybe it’s not true, maybe the guy did lie to me” began Null. “Unless….” He snapped his face toward Maxwell in awe.

Maxwell snorted, Is this guy for real? “If you think I can beat a dragon, then do you really think you guys would still be alive? You would already be dead ten times over.”

Tears welled up in Null eyes. “I was robbed, I robbed it from the guy first but I was still robbed!” he said grinding his yellow teeth together.

“And it’s all your fault!” He launched a haphazard punch. It was fueled by nothing but heart-break and was sloppy at best. Maxwell ducked lazily and the blow bounced off the side of the cart. Null clutched his hand, yelping.

And that’s two hands down for the count.

“Damn you and your magic!” he cursed. “How is a twerp like you even able to use it so well? That abnormal ice as well. I know what we’ll do, I'll lock you up in a furnace until you vaporise!” he said.

Maxwell rolled his eyes. “I didn’t even use any magic for that. Your punch was way too predictable”

“There is one thing that’s confusing me,” asked Maxwell. “Why don’t you guys use any magic?”

“Magic! Are you mocking me!” Null scampered back away from the cart like a crab. “As if we have enough mana to do that!”

The thug pulled up the shoulder of his vest, showing it clearly to Maxwell. Tattooed crudely in the skin with scarlet ink was a sheep skull with large twisting horns growing from its head. “Listen here kid, don't think you can underestimate us. We the Blood Rams never give up, our tenacity limitless and your head will be ours!”