Nearby in the slums some sad peasant, perhaps with unrealized magic heritage, raised her scarred mug as her cabinet began to shake. Decades of grime and smoke ground into the wood came flaking down from the ceiling, fluttering to the ground from the walls and the cabinets. She stood up and swayed at the numbing sensation pulsed through her feet into her very bones. She turned her head to the south, towards her paper window. There was something out there, pressing up against reality.

The runes marked over the wooden floor under Tim’s feet had begun to faintly pulse, a rhythmic sensation like some great beast breathing. The air began to crawl across his skin, whispering strange words that were too soft to understand, straight into his pores. He broke out into a sweat, and each second that passed made Tim feel like an invisible, almost solid weight was gradually pressing down on his shoulders as something… unnatural started to pay attention.

To notice him.

As a distraction from the uncomfortable tightness that seemed to grip his brain like being buried alive by sand, Tim glanced out from a gap in the curtains at the street below where Elena was animated in an argument, wildly gesticulating, surrounded by guards. Her armor shone just like he had remembered it, and Tim’s lips curled into a smirk as his eyes slipped over to the half of an arm she kept waving around. That would make it a bit easier. Still, a hero was still a hero, and he could only hope that the guards and his traps could last long enough for the main event to arrive.

A soft tap on his shoulder distracted Tim from his musings.

“Tim, Tim, the demons have sallied forth. I have sent word that Elena has arrived, arrived and to not worry.”

Tim nodded absentmindedly. “Very good. Make sure the guards on the street draw things out as long as possible. Don’t let any of them get too hasty. The longer this gets drawn out, the less risk we face.”

“Yes, yes. All entrances and exits have been closed. Yet, the hero hesitates.” Philbert gave a little ratty snicker from his place on Tim’s shoulder. “Out of caution, or fear?”

The silky-smooth whispers began to intensify, making Tim shake his head as they swirled around the air and intertwined themselves with Philbert’s familiar monotone voice.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“My money’s on the two together. Both times we’ve clashed have ended with Elena at a disadvantage, and the guards are an unknown factor to her. Moreover, the air itself feels wrong even to me. And if some normal guy like me can feel it, I wonder how the heroes see the situation?”

Truly it was a wondrous process. There was no magic involved. Tim only had mark out the runes in chalk according to Philbert’s guidance, while Mavier’s side did the same on the opposite side of town. But, despite the markings being nothing but chalk, they still served their purpose. A ‘guiding beacon’, as Philbert put it.

Tim’s entire body shuddered as the pressure inside his skull intensified.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

In his comfortable chair on a roof overlooking the government offices, Adrian sat bolt-upright with a feeling of utter wrongness. He felt like he was going to puke and that he wanted to gut someone at the same time. How odd.

A thudding sound echoed as something… round bouncing at his feet made Adrian momentarily forget his strange feelings in favor of whipping his head in the direction of the sound. The object steadily rolled towards his feet and his eyes were drawn from the chin, to the mouth, and finally the empty eye sockets.

Kevin’s head.

Adrian quickly tore his two favorite knifes free of his belt, acting just fast enough for the trench knife in his right hand to block the scimitar strike that followed. The hero grinned with joy.

“Finally! I don’t even have ta’ go looking for ya’ bastards!”

Adrian’s leaf-bladed knife snaked forwards towards Mavier, who swiftly blocked it with a grey fist cloaked in spitting, scorching flames. Adrian’s face fell, and then immediately lit up again as he launched forwards in a headbutt. Their skulls collided with a sickening ‘thud’.

It really was too bad he had to put that disgusting lizard six feet under tonight. Adrian could get used to having a fun dance partner, one that even Elena couldn’t fault him for breaking.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Mavier grunted as Adrian’s forehead slammed into his skull, but he powered on regardless. It wouldn’t do to lose concentration, to miss out on such a golden opportunity. Instead, Mavier elected to push forwards, using Adrian’s manic focus on the headbutt to clasp his fingers, still armored in a protective flaming shell, around the teenager’s leaf-bladed dagger. Mavier flexed his fingers with a grunt and twisted them until he could feel the blade piercing deeply into his own skin. Not even a second later and he was rewarded with a harsh ‘cracking’ sound as the blade of the dagger snapped in two.

Adrian howled with rage, and Mavier half-stepped out of the way as the hero cleaved forwards with his trench knife. Two more brutal swipes from the hero followed, with Mavier elegantly stepping out of the way with just his footwork, topping off the mockery by lifting up his hand and letting the snapped blade drop to the ground with a clatter.

These human heroes were just too easy to rile up.