Previously, John was given a mission to attend at a college as a student called Nathan Carat. Having overcome his first day, he now had to choose his sports class on this tuesday. However, after deciding, he was met with a sudden attack from the side as he entered the sports hall.

Barely stepping foot into the hall, a shimmer sparked in the corner of his left eye. John’s muscles tensed up as he barely ducked a thin metal rod. With the sudden assault, he took hold of the attacker, swiftly turning left and grabbing the man. By neck and wrist, he held the black haired man tightly, dropping the weapon out of his hand.

Noticing John’s squinted eyes, almost like a wolf who caught his prey. “Stop! Time out!” the attacker coughed with his hoarse voice.

Feeling a cramp in his hands, John realized that he had overdone it, his eyes widening again, relaxing his muscles. He let go of the man, revealing the bright red and swollen marks he left behind on the throat and wrist.

“Sorry, I snapped for a second. But what kind of greeting was that supposed to be?”

Coughing and gasping for air, “I-I just wanted to test your reflexes. I do that with every new member.”

Tilting his head down at the dropped weapon, John saw that it was a fencing foil. Its black leather hilt lead into a brass hand guard. The blade was drawn from the centre of the hilt, elongated into a rounded tip, blunt as can be.

“I nearly forgot how stupid these toys look,” John says, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. “I never understood why people use them.”

“It is quite simple, really,” the man finished coughing. “A normal sword would hurt or injure someone. This allows people to fight to their desires, over and over, without having to hold back on finishing blows.” He thrusted his hand towards John, as if holding the sword.

Lightly stepping towards the foil, bending down and picking it up, John stared at it. Looking at his narrowed mirror image in the rod’s glossy metal. A loud hiss sounded as he cut vertically through the air.

“No need to use that much force,” the man said with his right fist on his waist. “If you do that, you will merely bend it.”

John threw the foil upwards, catching it by the blade with the hilt toward the roof. He held it towards the man, tilting his wrist to let him take it.

“That’s exactly why I don’t like them. They are too light for my taste.”

Scattered throughout the hall, other students fought, clad in white padded suits. Their faces, covered in a wire mesh, can barely even be seen. When they noticed that John and the man had been talking they stared at them, putting down their foils. Walking at them and surrounding them, the crowd of students began to mumble.

“Who is that guy?”

“Why is Ewin being so kind to him?”

Their loud mumbling could not have been missed by the two young men. Ears twitching, Ewin, the man with black hair, had an idea. Fiddling around with his hands, touching them gently, he began to touch his right hand with the left, gesturing a pull at his hand. Having passed the tips of his fingers, he swirled his left hand and gestured a throw at the ground, leaving his hand open. John’s eyebrows lifted, unsure what happened.

“He threw him the glove!” the crowd murmured.

“Now I see,” John laughed. “How about telling me, rather than throwing me for a loop?”

“Why, of course I could! Though it would’ve been interesting if you had figured it out on your own,” he glared at the students.

Scratching the back of his head, John debated whether he wanted to fight or not. Although his eyebrows twitched at the thought of wielding such a “toy,” there was unrest in him, biting his lower lip. Eventually he sighed loudly. “Fine but you’ll need to tell me rules since it has been a while since I last did this.”

Stepping aside, the crowd made a path for Ewin to walk through. Near the entrance stood a slightly rusted iron box with a brass lever. The young man pulled at it, causing a squeaking sound. Suddenly the top of the box opened, revealing two more foils. He took one out and put the lever back to its prior position, closing the box again. Walking away, his black shirt stretched because it was caught in the box’s roofing. With a subtle pluck, the shirt sprang back to him, now crinkled. Handing over the foil to his opponent, he smiled.

“Why so happy?” John asked.

“Oh, I just had a pretty good idea for our fight, is all.”

While John was taking off his blue jacket and the red glossy tie, Ewin was whispering to the crowd. With a synchronized “Roger,” they stood in a corner next to the entrance. Waving his hand at him, Ewin lead John to the middle of the wooden hall..

“Fencing would usually require us to fight in a straight line, with a point system. We would try to hit the opponent’s neck, groin, back or torso with the tip of the foil to score a point.”

John laughed. “That can’t be real, in reality sharp blades would merely cut off one’s hand. What kind of childish game is this?”

“You are correct. This isn’t how real fights would be but you shouldn’t take it lightly either. To make things simple for you however, I thought we could just use this entire hall and make it a ‘first hit win’ fight,” the black haired man said, slashing crosses in the air.

“What about those silly costumes? Shouldn’t we be wearing them too?” he pointed with his index finger.

“Are you scared? Are you afraid that you will get hurt?” Ewin grinned.

Lifting the foil with both hands, with his eyes focused on his opponent, John readied himself.

“Let’s do this!” he shouted.

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One of the crowd members, a brown haired young man, decided to take up the count down. Lifting his arms, “One.” Ewin hid his left hand behind his back. “Two.” He stood sideways, toward John, aiming the tip of his foil at him. “Three!”

Both their eyes slimmed down, following each other. They ran to the right with their eyes set on the other’s feet and chest. With every step on the glossy wax floor, they left behind a squeak. Noticing that John had slowed down, Ewin immediately dashed at him with a thrusting sword, leaving behind a trail of sparkling sweat. Just barely stepping aside, his bangs being blown aside by the strike, John made a vertical cut at Ewin’s legs. Jumping back, evading the powerful and noisy slash, Ewin began to make a leap for another thrust. Missing the first one, he continued on, creating a flurry of thrusts. Forcing John to run backwards, he drove the detective into a faraway corner. All of the thrusts were aimed at the blonde haired head of his opponent, making John’s neck cramp from dodging. Every once in a while, a stray thrust was aimed at the chest or the arms but was parried without hassle. Peeking behind him, John already saw that he had only a few more steps until he set in the corner.

The students in the other corner were cheering, hands raised, for their fellow student.

“This is it!”

“There’s no escape now!” they yelled.

Nearly being in the corner, John stepped onto the left wall, and jumped up onto the right one. The opponent's sword was still mid motion, piercing into the wooden wall. Diving down from the wall, John aimed a cut at Ewin’s wrist. With a slight pull, the black haired man knew the sword was stuck. He let go of it, stepping back to avoid the hit.

Crowd in awe, their cheering was silenced. With heavy breath, John now intended to make use of the unarmed opponent, running at him and aiming cuts at the shoulders and legs. Each attempt, whistling through the air, merely cutting through the drops of sweat from the evading target. Suddenly, Ewin stepped aside, split his legs and passed behind John within a blink of the eye. Merely hearing the metal being forcefully pulled out of the wood, he stood still, still trying to comprehend what had just happened. After a loud “Ha!” John held his sword at his back, performing a short rotation. Ewin’s backstab was hence parried and John managed to turn around but once again was caught by surprise. Two long steps, which left behind nearly no sound, allowed Ewin to get behind John once again. Using the motion from the step, he prepared a thrust, releasing it as he abruptly stopped behind his prey. A sharp stab at John’s back, made the hairs on his neck stand up, his pupils shrink and caused him to drop his sword.

“The winner is,” the judge held up the hand. “Ewin!”

No applause sounded however. The hall was silent. Still shocked by the unpredictable end, the other students merely stared at the fighters.

“Well fought,” Ewin said, patting John on the shoulder. “You nearly had me there!”

With his muscles still shaking from the final strike, John turned around revealing his flat face, drenched in sweat with his empty eyes.

“That is a lie.”

Walking past him, Ewin whispered into his ear, “Well, I guess I should have expected as much from you, Sterling.”

These words stung like a hornet, straight into his lungs. “How does he know?” John thought.

With a strong grip, he took Erwin's arm, turning him around. “We need to talk. Now.”

After the fight was over, the students took up their swords again and returned to their training. Meanwhile the two swordsmen sat aside, watching them, as they planned to have a discussion.

“Before we get to the topic of that name, can you confirm if my thoughts on that fight are correct?” John asked, with a bitter tone.

“Of course,” he crossed his legs.

“When the fight started, we both had the same idea but you knew the outcome already. You knew I had a bad stamina and you knew you could abuse it. On top of that, you pushed me into a corner and meant to exhaust me by making me dodge. Lastly that footwork is your ace, correct?” John sat back, resting his head against the wall.

“Indeed, I did exactly as you said. Though, I underestimated your parkour skills. Thankfully, you did not know about my signature footwork yet. You see, I am their trainer as well as the best fighter in class.”

John sighed, “Should’ve expected as much. As for the name, if I really was this “Sterling,” then I would ask you to keep it to yourself.”

His head jerking up with his eyes rapidly widening, Ewin was surprised. “Why the secrecy, Nathan?”

“Oh so you do know my name? Well, let me just say that I have a job to do,” he turned his face toward the black haired man.

“I heard about a student coming late to class on his first day and that his name was Nathan Carat. Don’t get me wrong but that name is a dead giveaway,” he laughed, covering his mouth with his hands.

“Oh come on, it isn’t that bad! Anyway, I would like you to stay silent about this.”

“You can count on me.”

With the sun going down, everyone went to their dorms, calling it a day. Only one boy, leaped from shadow to shadow, hiding in the darkness of the campus, listening into everyone’s discussions. The moonlight would reflect upon his silver hair, creating a shimmer as he leapt with long steps. Matt wanted to get some rest, hiding in John’s room. The cold air rushing along his black cloaked body, left a trail of misty breath as he ran to the dorms.

Crossing the nature club’s garden, a loud high-pitched noise rang in his ears. He halted and looked in the sources direction. His body was frozen. Slowly being dragged backwards, causing his legs to tremble and his lungs to burst out a scream, as a bullet drilled straight through his right arm. Falling onto the lawn, a shiver went down his spine. He curled up and held his arm with moans of pain. Unaware if it was the air or the amount of lost blood, he rapidly felt cold. Collecting all of his strength, Matt stood up, trembling from the shock, shivering in the frigid gusts.

In the distance, he saw a person standing and watching him in an awkwardly bent pose. He noticed too late, that it was the pose of a marksman at his scope as another high-pitched whistle ran through the garden, the bullet passing by him. His muscles finally loosening, he realized that he had to act. With large steps and jumps, he ran at the shooter, tracing a zigzag pattern. Closing his fists, steam passed through the pipes and protracted the three bladed claws from his gloves. Like a cheetah hunting his prey, he sped up, not once losing the person from his sight.

Another shot passed by him. The cloud of mist rising from the person was most likely to be released steam, used to propel the bullet. Matt focused on the veil of mist, now hiding the person. He tried to find him but it was too late. Slightly to the right of the shot before, the bullet tore a hole through the mist and was supposed to hit the boy. Within a step he noticed the noise of the shot, he guarded with his left hand’s claws, protecting his injured right arm. Flying through the air and dropping behind him, piercing the soil, was the middle blade of the claw. The impact with the bullet broke it, while the bullet bounced away into the lawn. With a new veil of mist, created by the last shot, Matt was unsure of what to do. Sweat running down his head, freezing as he stood still, his eyes moved in every direction.

Strafing off in a curve, he ran behind the hot steam. As he passed, he didn’t see anyone, only the mist and the icy lawn, sparkling in the moonlight. Then suddenly, from behind him, he heard the shot. The person ran around the mist, using it as visual cover, and shot as Matt was on the other side. Still caught in forward motion and unable to step aside fast enough, the bullet pierced through the cloak and the flesh of his right leg. Tumbling onto his face, spitting out a few blades of grass, he screamed. A scream that took all his breath, echoed through the campus. Holding his right leg, Matt gasped for every bit of air he could draw. The pain raced through his nerves, stifling his lungs. With many short breaths, his vision became blurry. Eventually he couldn’t tell if he was looking at the star clad sky or the sparkling lawn.

Footsteps came closer, although he did not know where from. Warm blood running from his arm and leg was soaked by the cloak of cloth. Standing next to him was a tall man. Besides the general figure, Matt saw a very unclear image. Kneeing down, the figure reached it’s hand to his mouth. Tasting a bitter matte substance on his tongue, his eyes began to fall shut, his breathing calming down, until he was asleep.

Who is the shooter and why did he go after Matt? How will John and Aaron react? Find out next time on Steam’s Shadow!