The two were locked in a stalemate, Rodan pressing his sword against Dreks’s shield.

“So, how about it, Hero?”

Dreks's sneer turned into a lecherous and disturbing smile as his face became flushed with hot blood. “If she was beautiful, I didn’t just kill her.” He let out a disturbing, gurgling laugh. “I made sure to savor her every hole!”

Rodan shook as his eyes widened and his mind tried to bar the imagery from his consciousness.

“Even the ones I made myself! Gehehehe! Was she beautiful? For your sake, I hope she was pig-ugly!”

Rodan was consumed by rage—that rage awakened something in him and the sword he wielded. With a vengeful roar, the sword caught flame, and a surge of power came from his arms.

Dreks winced as he broke contact with the young man. He quickly leaped away a few feet, unwilling to risk being taken by surprise by the unexpected strength. He locked his eyes on his advisory, who pursued him anyway.

Rodan slashed at the air and sent a wave of fire Dreks’s way. The assassin put up his magic-devouring arm. He activated it, but as soon as he did, noticed his error—

“It’s not magic?!”

The flames were not pulled into the arm and instead hit Dreks’s body. The assassin yelped in pain as the flames burned not only his body but his spirit too.

“Burn in the nether, bastard!” yelled Rodan as he rushed toward the assassin.

This was it. Here in this moment, he had unlocked the power the world was waiting for him to discover within himself—the Hero’s Brilliant Flame. It was a flame powered by Rodan’s desire for justice to be meted out and his spirit.

Dreks lifted his arm, but he was too late. The brilliant sword tore a fiery path from Drecks’s left shoulder down to his right hip.

Rodan, with the eyes of a beast, smiled in triumph. Meanwhile, Dreks’s eyes rolled to the back of his head.

“Gehehehe.”

Dreks uttered it—the thing people of this world say when they deceive a mark.

“An offering to the trickster king,”

Dreks, having pulled a trick on Rodan, smiled from ear to ear as he locked eyes with the boy.

“Heed me, boy! Burn this name into your memory so that it may haunt you in death!”

Dreks’s fist glowed gold moments before he ran it into Rodan’s lightly armored gut.

“Hidden Spirit Technique: Reciprocation!”

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Rodan’s face contorted as if he was about to vomit, but before he could, blood and gold energy erupted from his back like it was a parasite leaving its host’s body.

Rodan was sent flying into the wall at the end of the alley, propelled by the gusts Dreks’s move provoked. He hit the wall with devastating force—it was a miracle he didn’t bring the entire wall down. The boy gasped for air, but he was stunned, bleeding, and instantaneously exhausted. He still held his jeweled sword, but the brilliant flames had long been extinguished.

Dreks laughed. The fire that had been burning him had disappeared, and all the damage he had taken had been transferred back to Rodan, twofold.

“Let me tell you something, boy. One doesn’t get to thrive in this world by only being able to counter one type of energy. He held up his right fist—one covered in gold energy. I can use Spirit Techniques too. Ones that can counter yours.” He sneered at the fallen hero. “This is the difference between you and me...” A sinister smile turned maniacal as the assassin stopped restraining himself. “I strived to be the best that I could be! I did so because I wanted to be able to do whatever I wanted to strong men and beautiful women and vice versa! And now I’m here, beating the Hero of legends down! Not even the blessings of the gods can save you!” Dreks held out his arms. “Do you get it? The Hero who gains power when he gets mad—I trained and improved myself so that I could always be ahead of that brat that has power handed to him!” He locked his bulging eyes with Rodan. “We were fated to clash from the start because I am your antithesis!”

Dreks threw his head back and roared into the sky, happy to take his moment to gloat and let it all be known.

“I’m better than you! I’m better than the upstart Hero of legends! Hear that, Gods up on high?! I am better!” He laughed for a few moments before dropping his arms and calmly laying his eyes back on Rodan. He smiled and held up his hand. “I’m going to celebrate... I can’t wait to savor every one of that princess’s holes.” Dreks licked his lips. “That friend of yours—the gladiator—he looked tasty too.”

Rodan tried to roar, but he only coughed up blood.

“Gehehehe! Imbecile! Here’s a fitting end for a fool like you, who rested on the power he was given.” Fire began swirling in front of Dreks’s palm. “Have a taste of your Firebolt and go to damnation, cursing and screaming.”

The fire illuminated Rodan’s face, laying his desperate hope bare for all to see. It was in that moment—right before Dreks fired—that Rodan saw something strange.

A disembodied hand flew in from the side, and right before the assassin shot his Firebolt, the hand pushed the arm skyward. The Firebolt was released and flew into the sky, flying many feet over Rodan’s head.

“What the—“ Dreks yelped. He looked to his left and quickly moved his head, narrowly avoiding the dagger that flew by—one held by another floating hand. A shuffle came from his right, and he quickly whipped his head and blocked the oncoming kick from a surprise intruder with his bare arm. “Who dares?!”

The mystery attacker was silent as she landed. Dreks tried to strike her with his other hand, but one of the disembodied hands yanked him by the hair and made him lose his footing. One swift roundhouse kick from the mystery attacker sent Dreks back a few feet as the hand kept yanking on his hair.

Dreks took his dagger from his belt and cut his hair off. “Get off!”

The hand flew around as he turned and uppercut him before flying toward Rodan and the mystery attacker who had gotten between them.

“Help him, Dorthaunzee,” said the attacker.

Dreks held up his and cast his gaze toward the newcomers in time to see a woman dressed like a nun applying a faint blue magic to Rodan. Then, in front of the nun and the Hero, stood a gray-skinned woman in light gear. She had a dagger in one hand while her other hand floated next to her head.

“Who are you people?! Assassins? Which guild do you belong to?!”

“None.” Elma’s eyes were fixed on Dreks, but her next statement was for Rodan. “We’re here to support you, Hero... Call us... your Auxiliary Forces.”

The Hero Hub’s Elma and Dorthaunzee had arrived, having sprinted to the secluded alleyway from their drop zone.

A wish had been made, and they had made it just in time to make a difference.