Together as one, Nathan and the flaming lynx closed the distance between themselves and Saleh. His fiery blade slashed for the man’s throat.

Saleh’s eyes went wide, bugging out from his head as he took in Nathan’s speed. His lips worked as he said one word. Nathan heard it before he felt it.

“Wait!”

Nathan’s body froze up, like rusted gears grinding to a stop, his blade close enough to burn the hairs on the bottom of Saleh’s chin. The lynx did much the same, its claws extended, as if it were instantly taxidermied. Two lethal killers stopped mere inches from finding their target.

Saleh wasted no time. The pale man grinned as he flashed his own blade out and swiped toward Nathan. But he was too slow. Though it took a precious second, Nathan severed the command thread within him and dodged the weapon, feeling its tip graze the singed clothing on his chest.

The taste of his own vomit filled his mouth as the infuriating nausea consumed his brain. But his body acted on instinct.

Nathan’s arms became whirlwinds of flashing steel and spinning death. The only reason Saleh was able to keep his terrified face attached to the rest of him was the near constant avalanche of commands. A deluge of wait’s, stop’s, and miss’s peppered with ahhh’s and cries of pain.

But each time his muscles ground to a halt, Nathan was once again within his own mind, severing the thread nearly before his vision even went dark. He was getting better at it. Faster.

The bewildered and fearful eyes of Saleh had welled to big wet, quivering orbs as the man could do nothing but stall – and even his ability to do that was quickly dwindling. It was exhilarating.

Nathan let out a wild whoop of glee as he spun and his flaming blade opened a gaping wound across the poor sod’s thigh, causing him to fall to one knee. Blood wetted the floor as Saleh screamed, his cry of pain cutting off a budding command.

Nathan reversed his blade in his hand, and struck the man across the temple with the pommel, sending him sprawling to the ground, a gasping heap of twitching eyes and slack jaw.

The poor man was still trying to suck back in the air that was expelled from his lungs, when Nathan planted a heavy foot into his gut. Keep the man from being able to breathe and he can’t say any more bloody commands. But one of the main downsides of being reborn in a new world was not knowing what magic items look like or do. And before Nathan could even react, a diadem that was hanging from a chord around Saleh’s neck glowed stark white.

A blinding light exploded from the diadem filling the room and making Nathan’s ears ring. A force hit him square in the chest like a charging bull and he was flung through the air before slamming back against the wall, cracking stone. It was like a flashbang on steroids.

Feeling like the sun just exploded in your face had a certain way of disorienting a person. It didn’t hurt much, but being able to see was usually one of the main things that Nathan relied on to fight, and currently, he couldn’t.

“Shoot him!” Saleh’s voice sounded from about fifteen feet away before devolving into a nasty fit of coughs. The torrent of commands had ravaged Saleh’s voice, making him sound as if he’d smoked a pack of cigs a day for the last two hundred years.

Twelve degrees to the left. A little over five feet off the ground. He’s standing, not moving. His voice is strained. He’s hurt.

He heard the soft twang of a taught chord releasing its energy.

A length of wood pierced Nathan’s side, right between his ribs. A bolt. That bastard Cleo had shot him. Again.

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“I’m sorry!” Cleo called from the other side of the doorway. It was the first time Nathan had ever heard her mean it.

Wincing against the pain, he pushed himself up from where he’d been flung, feeling the tip of the bolt scrape uncomfortably against his insides. From what he could currently tell, no vital organs had been sliced or punctured…yet. Though, moving around with it still in him was sure to cause some sort of internal damage.

“Just don’t do it again!” he roared back.

A searing pain lit up the side of his body, but he couldn’t focus on that now. It was better if he didn’t. He shoved it back into the recesses of his mind as he had been trained and focused on the task at hand. Killing that fucker, Saleh.

His vision was starting to clear. The black dots in the corners of his eyes slowly fading away, revealing the still too-bright interior of the room. Saleh was walking toward him, one hand grasped uncomfortably around his throat, as if he were trying to scratch an impossible itch.

“Shoot him if he moves,” Saleh commanded. A blood filled cough erupted from the man’s throat. It sounded like something was trying to claw its way from him, but the command looked to have worked – Cleo stiffened up, her arms moving like a mannequin as they lifted her crossbow.

But the words must have been getting to him. Nathan had overused and lost his magic earlier. It reasoned to assume the same could happen to others, and shouting such powerful commands as die was certain to expedite that process.

Looking around, Nathan spotted his companion. The Echo was still trapped from Saleh’s earlier command. It was sitting down on all fours, waiting like an obedient pup. It was just him and Saleh after all. No matter, Nathan could kill on his own just fine.

“You don’t know when to quit, do you?” Saleh asked, his voice hoarse. He frowned down at Nathan with the expression of a man watching a rat chew through his pantry. “If you’d have just stayed down, I’d have let you walk away and keep the spoils of the dungeon. And all it would have cost you was a traveling companion you don’t even care for.”

“Not knowing when to quit…” Nathan blinked his eyes several times, banishing the last spots of blackness from his vision. Then, he smiled toward Saleh. A genuine smile; he was looking forward to what was about to happen. “That’s one of my favorite things about myself.”

Nathan dove forward, the bolt tearing something within his gut. Another bolt sang through the air toward him, but he knew it would be coming. Why did Cleo have to be such a good shot? He twisted, taking it in the arm rather than the chest. It hit like a sledgehammer, piercing fully through the length of his bicep, but did as much to stop him as a butterfly trying to stop a speeding car.

Saleh tried to say another command but all that came out was a jumble of sound and flecks of blood. So instead, he swiped down with his blade – but he couldn’t match Nathan.

The assassin easily rounded the blade, striking a palm into Saleh’s wrist with a sharp pop, then brought his own weapon around. The length of green flamed steel sizzled through the air before slicing into the soft flesh beneath Saleh’s ribs. It buried deep, catching on something before breaking through and going yet deeper.

Saleh screamed. With his hoarse voice it sounded as if he were gargling nails. There was a surprising lack of blood as the flesh cauterized itself upon the scorching sword. Even after Nathan pulled it out of the still screaming Saleh, barely a drop was to be seen.

The screams were abruptly cut off as Nathan’s hand gripped Saleh’s throat. He looked into the man's eyes as tears welled at their corners. Big wet drops that soon trickled down his cheeks.

“I don’t know what you wanted in here,” Nathan said to Saleh. He looked down at the man, then up at the statue at the head of the room. The pulse of power had never ceased emanating from it. “I don’t know why you felt the need to betray us when we were so near the end. But at this point, I don’t care.”

Saleh’s face began to turn purple as he failed to force words from his mouth. Veins tried to bulge in his neck, but were kept in check by the iron grasp of Nathan’s hand. At the current rate, it wouldn’t be long until he died.

Better to end things quick.

“Look into my fire.” Nathan raised the flaming blade above Saleh’s left eye, poised to strike down. Saleh’s eyes widened yet further in terror as he wordlessly tried to shake his head. No, please, stop, don’t kill me, he said with his eyes.

There would be no mercy. Not for those that wronged him.

“And know that it will be your end.”

The blade plunged into Saleh’s eye. Bones cracked and blood sizzled and burned. Nathan twisted the knife free of the skull and Saleh’s body plopped to the side, writhing in its last struggle with death, weak moans escaping cracked lips.

When souls were severed from their earthly bonds, would they still be ferried across the river? Or was that something else that Nathan had murdered?

It wouldn’t matter for Saleh either way.

He was staying right here.

Nathan lifted a flame wreathed hand up over Saleh’s still body. “I name you, The Liar.”