Andker frowned down at the carnage in front of him.

This was another path in stress. He’d told his superiors that they couldn’t send him after Olympians with people who hadn’t experienced what happened when they rune shields weren’t working.

These men had spent most of their time hunting down mages in groups. Their shields were their protectors, their world. One blast from a mage that could kill a man was distorted the moment they brought their shield to bear.

It had given them confidence, then arrogance. Now they were drowning in the side-effect of that arrogance.

Faced with a mage with less magic and more madness, they were useless.

The mage with the red hair was running through his men like a blunt knife through semi-frozen butter. Or a blunt axe through fire wood.

There was little grace about him but so much precision.

In the earlier fight when the Knight had taken the stage, they had been worried but not terrified. Despite being a Knight, all he had was his magic.

And his magic was nothing but magic.

His runes and spells, at best, knocked them back. But none had been in the fear of death. Then the redhaired mage had begun making a mess with that axe of his, shaking the ground and burying his men in rubbles.

He’d been slightly worried about what the effect would be on them at first. They’d pulled each other out of the rubble and realized some of them hadn’t been protected by their shields.

But those were acceptable deaths. Deaths that shook the mind but didn’t burden the heart. So they’d moved on, flanked the mages, used their training.

Then the same damned redhaired mage decided to show the world that there were mages, and there were monsters.

How many shots had he taken to the body already?

Another explosion rang out behind him. Purple and large.

He knew the spell, knew its kind. It was deceptive, loud so that you feared its power. But it was nothing but a manipulation of gravity.

A gravity mage was digging a spell in the ground and letting the explosive force throw his men about. It was nothing they couldn’t handle

But the mad man with the axe was the problem. Bullets refused to stop him, and he cleaved through his soldiers like he had a personal vendetta against them. Give him a shield and he would be reminiscent of the Vikings who had once plagued the English shores in the old times.

Maybe a Viking with an odd helmet. How many bullets has he even taken?

Some of his men were already quaking in their boots the closer the mage came up the crater with his swinging axe. It was large and powerful, splitting a man’s head in one swing.

But it was to be expected. That was the power of an attribute mage.

What impressed Andker was the mage’s resilience. If he didn’t have an attribute that numbed pain, then he had a right monster approaching him. And that regenerative attribute was impossible.

Can you survive against that many shots? He asked himself.

The answer was as clear as the fear on the faces of his men.

Another explosion of a gravity spell boomed behind him. Tiny debris of earth and rocks fell all over them, and he turned his attention in its general direction.

“Can someone please stop that mage?”

It was a simple request, a tired one. But none of his men would mistake it as one. They would hear the command and work. Zero was the only fool who had a problem following command.

He turned in a different direction as some men pooled towards the explosion.

“Can someone please tell me how long it’ll take to get my weapon loaded?”

“Not long, sir,” a soldier answered. He was a small man.

In his arms the gun looked larger than it really was. Loading the weapon was taking too long, and he was in no mood to fight the mad mage.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t take him. He simply didn’t feel the need. He power was better tested against the Knight rank.

He looked at Zero standing beside him with a thoughtful finger in his mouth.

The man didn’t seem so addled by the amplifier anymore.

Maybe he can survive one more.

Andker slipped his hand into his shield and brought out the device he’d been given by the higher ups. It was a prototype still in the making. There were still a few amplifications left in it before it became useless.

The final product was intended to have no such flaw. And Andker could only hope it would also discard that small flaw of making those who use it addicts.

Everytime Zero used it, it addled his mind and left him much of a bumbling fool. It was like watching a drug addict.

Zero’s eyes zeroed in on the device and he grinned. “Are you giving that to me, boss?”

His voice was taunting, as it always was.

Andker really wanted to say no, watch the arrogance of thinking he’d been forced into a corner deflate from the man’s face.

But he wasn’t that petty. In the scheme of his initial plan, he had been forced into a corner. He felt his jaw tick and controlled himself.

A man with no control is no more than an animal.

“Have it,” he said, holding the device out to Zero. “Use it.”

Zero snatched it up as if worried he would change his mind.

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He was already attaching it to his chest. “Who am I trying to kill this time, boss?”

The device didn’t kill people. And Zero’s ability didn’t kill people. He was one of a few kinds of mages. A limited number that had an uncanny ability to let out a burst of mana that someone distorted mana of any kind.

It was an odd skill, also a powerful one. But it had its draw backs. The amount of mana he had in his core wasn’t enough to fuel the ability.

He always had only two shots in his core. But the amplifier gave him more.

Andker pointed down at the red haired mage. “Take him down a peg and more.”

Zero’s grin was manic as he activated the amplifier.

“Gladly.”

The device shone on his chest as he activated it, then he held his hands out in front of him.

“The men?”

Andker shook his head. “They are riddle with fear, speaking to them will accomplish nothing. We will gather what is left of them when we are through.”

Zero shrugged.

Then he used his ability.

The deviced whirred, then screeched for only a beat. Then a large blast of shockwave left it. It reached out with enough force to make the ground tremble and the earth shake. It grew larger with each distance it crossed, until it swallowed its target and went through him.

That was one of the beauties of the skill. it didn’t stop until it had covered its distance.

Its second beauty was when it hit a mage.

It struck the mage with red hair, blasting through him in beats. His mana exploded from his skin and flesh, a white haze of mana with mixes of purple and red hues.

It dispersed around him, casting him in the glow of some oddly fashioned video edit. It remained always beautiful to behold.

It was also a painful experience.

Your mana would be forced out of your body, ripped out. Pain would flood the mind, and you would be left weak as your mana channels grew sore, your core labored, and your mana was given to the rest of the world, dissipating like smoke in the presence of a powerful fan.

It was…

Andker’s jaw tightened at the sight before him.

The mage’s mana left him for a second, then dragged itself back into him as if from nothing but it’s own will.

What the hell is happening?

The mage didn’t even seem bothered by it. He just turned and killed one of his now addled men. Then he bashed one in the head with the back of the axe in a casual blow. It was as if he hadn’t even put any force in it.

That was ludicrous.

He turned to Zero, hoping there was still calm in his voice. “Hit him again.”

Zero looked at him confused, then shrugged.

The device whirred again, gave a screech, and blasted forward.

It struck the mage with all its force and staggered him back. The mana was pushed out of him again, only to draw itself back into him.

The mage looked up at them, hair clothes matted to his body, tattered and ripped, body covered in blood that was as much his own as it was Andker’s soldiers. Then he did the same stupid posturing he had done in the beginning.

He raised his axe and pointed it at him.

“I’m coming for you, pretty boy.”

It was an odd thing to say in such a situation. Andker wouldn't even call himself pretty. Between the both of them, the madman was the pretty one.

“Should I hit him again?” Zero asked.

Andker really wanted to say yes. But something told him it would be a waste of time. Two blasts were enough to tell him they’d need a stronger amplifier if they were expecting a greater outcome.

“No.”

His answer was simple, and it hurt him to use it because it admitted something he’d hoped not to admit.

The gravity explosions behind him had reduced but not guttered out. His men were overwhelming the Gravity mage.

But with the madman still climbing up the crater, they were at a disadvantage.

He knew what would bring the madman to his knees but didn’t think they would have the opportunity right now.

“Don’t run!”

He turned at the taunt and saw the bloodied mage charging faster. With Zero’s blast his men were all but useless, unable to stop the mage.

“What’s your name?” he called down to the charging mage.

He wished to remember it. To know the name of the man he would have to kill himself.

“No.”

What?

What did the man mean by no?

“This isn’t some action movie where you try to kill me then acknowledge me because I won’t die.” The mage stepped on a man’s head in his advance and stumbled. He was back on his feet almost immediately. “This is the movie where I kill you without hearing your evil plot to rule the world.”

Andker was puzzled. For one thing, he didn’t have any evil plot to rule the world. His bosses might, but he was just a man being paid and bearing a bit of devotion to a cause.

“Don’t run!”

There was something annoying about the taunt, as if the mage assumed he would run. There was no reason for him to run. No point to the assumption.

He still had a few men, and was quite capable on his own. In fact, now he wanted to go down there and wring the mage’s neck just to prove a point.

Control, he reminded himself, relaxing his fist.

Finally, he turned and held his hand out to Zero. “The device.”

Zero hesitated. “You sure, boss?”

“Don’t let me rip it out of you again.”

Zero covered his chest with his arms like damsels do in movies. It felt weird because the man wasn’t playing, it was really his reaction to Andker’s threat.

“You don’t have to be so mean.” He tapped the device a few times and removed it.

Then he handed it over.

Andker took it from him and slipped it back into the protection of his shield. He spared a look at the man loading his gun and so it was no where near loaded.

It was a complicated weapon to load, and the man loading it was trembling with enough force to vibrate through a wall, sparing glances at the bloodied mage every now and again.

Andker sighed. “This won’t work.”

Then he did the one thing he didn’t think he would do today.

He raised his hand and gave the signal.

“Everyone! Retreat!”

……………….

Zed heard the command as if it was delivered right next to his ear.

“Everyone! Retreat!”

He couldn’t believe his ears. More importantly, he couldn’t believe it had worked. The man hadn’t even looked taunt-able.

He’d just thought that if he’d goaded the Andker by insinuating that he should fight his fear of running, he would stand and fight out of some twisted bravado, with a false fear of running nestled somewhere in the back of his head.

It wasn’t much, but it would leave the man making decisions very much aware of the fear. He didn’t think the man would consider the idea of running and take it.

One of the men beside him rose groggily, and tried to move.

“Really?” Zed looked down at him. “Then what? I just let you gather yourself up and run.”

The man froze, looking at him with trembling eyes.

“I mean, think about it.” Zed tapped the back of the helmet.

It opened up and he took it off, discarding it to the side.

Then he ran a hand across his face, wiping blood from his eyes. “You just tried to kill me, dude. Me and my fucking wife. I know she cheats a lot but we have a dynamic.”

The fear on the man’s face shifted to confusion and he turned back as if looking for Zed’s wife.

“What the hell do you think you’re doin?” Zed took a step closer.

The man staggered and fell back.

“Are you eyeing my wife? Is that it?” he buried [Titan’s Axe] in the ground and approached the man.

Someone grunted but he ignored it.

He reached out to the man in a choking gesture. “I should wring your scrawny little… Oh wow, that’s quite the fat neck you’ve got on you. How the hell did you do that? Do you lift with your mouth?”

Confusion was winning the war against fear on the man’s face.

“Please don’t kill me,” he begged.

He looked between Zed and where [Titan’s Axe] was buried. Zed had an inkling of an idea why it was terrifying. He’d swung the axe into the ground so casually, but the sound he’d heard hadn’t been an axe blade hitting the dirt.

“That depends,” he answered. “Do you still plan on hitting on my wife?”

The man shook his head violently.

“Promise?”

The man nodded violently.

Zed returned the nod with a slow one. “That’s good. Because honestly, I think she’s getting tired of me, and I can’t lose her to another big neck. The last guy was just an arse. Carrying his neck around, thinking the world revolved around it. Big fingers too.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Do you have big fingers, Nenneke?”

The man shook his head.

Around them, the place had grown quiet. Zed had seen when one man had sneakily gotten up and rushed away very sluggishly. But he’d given that man his luck, and let him be.

It wasn’t like he really had much strength to chase anyone down. Between swinging [Titan’s Axe], powering the Olympian helmet, and taking so many bullet wounds he was shocked he still had the strength to fool around.

“Alright, Nenneke, this is what we’re going to do.” He pushed the man so that he fell on his ass, then he sat beside him and tossed a bloody arm around his shoulders. “We’re going to sit right here until my wife comes for me. And if she eyes you funny, then I can’t vouch for what I’ll do. If she ignores you, then you’re fine.”

He stared at the man’s face, narrowed his eyes at him. “Say… you look kinda familiar. Have I seen you somewhere before?”

Zed had never seen a man so confusingly terrified in his life.