The dude was pretty old. In his forties, probably? He had a short beard and a sick scar on the side of his neck, wore a shirt and trousers, and was jacked. Overall, it was an imposing figure, kind of like a dad who beat up his son, not because he was an alcoholic but because he was really into discipline. Dennis didn’t know where that association came from, though it didn’t matter. What mattered was the fact that the moment that Dennis reached for his sword to deliver some well-deserved smacking, the guy reached for the gun that he had holstered.

  Huh.

  And he was quick too. In raw speed he was slower than Dennis, but still conventionally fast. The moment Dennis’ hand grabbed the hilt the dude’s hand was already grabbing the pistol. It was painful to admit but getting the sword out of the sheath behind his back would take way more time than drawing a pistol from a convenient position. Dennis was faster, but he also had to do more. When the sword would be unsheathed the gun would be already on a way to be pointed at him. Despite the fact that only a fraction of a second passed since the start of the fight, his mind and talent were working in full gear to analyze the opponent and give him every advantage. Because this wasn’t a smacking anymore, this was a fight.

  This is the first guy who actually tried to fight me back. And he has a good chance to win.

  Magically, the dude didn’t feel like much. Probably a second level, but Dennis had a hunch that he didn’t unlock a skill yet. The guy was impressively fast, and his movements were precise. Busted initial stats and a focus in Mind and Dexterity, most likely.

  The sword was out of the sheath and the gun was out of the holster almost at the same time. Dennis started crouching and making his body a smaller target as he positioned his sword in a way to deflect the bullet. His defence had two layers. First, his muscles were already tensed in preparation for a sudden burst of speed, ready for the moment to dodge when the guy would pull the trigger. Second, his sword covered the most likely area where the bullet would fly, giving him a fair chance of outright parrying the thing. It felt ridiculous, but his instincts insisted that he could pull it off with a bit of luck. He saw the barrel of the gun, so he knew where it was aiming, so it was as much about prediction as it was about reflexes and speed.

  The guy had the complete advantage in distance, he would be able to shoot before Dennis would be able to reach him, so the only viable move was to deal with the first shot. If he does that, he wins, since there would be a small window of time before the gun could be shot again. It would be just a fraction of a second, but it would be enough for the killing blow. Dennis would need just a few steps and the dude’s arm would be in reach of the katana. Cutting it off would be just a matter of a simple swipe. Then he will adjust the grip, take another step, and swipe across the throat. Dennis was reasonably sure he would win the fight. Probably. He just needed to deal with the first shot and the guy would be dead.

  Half a second from the start of the fight neither of them moved, frozen still in some sort of stalemate. Dennis was keeping the position and waiting for the first shot, and the guy was waiting for fuck knows what. It was kind of awkward. Why didn’t he shoot yet? That was his best move. Not that it was the winning move, the odds were still in Dennis’ favor, but it was the one that would give the dude the greatest odds of winning. Anything else and he’s dead. This, and he’s probably dead. The guy just needed to shoot so they would get this over with.

  A few more seconds passed in silence, and no-one moved. Was this a fucking western or what? He could see a bead of sweat rolling down the guy’s temple. His focus was razor, but it was starting to get hard to ignore the urge to whistle some background music for this standoff. Sure, keeping still was the optimal move, but this was getting silly.

  “Are you two fucking crazy?!” John shouted while almost falling from his chair. Dennis calmly assessed the new variable in the fight. It was a bit hard to guess what John was about to do, but just based on his position–

  “You are one scary motherfucker, aren't ya?” the bearded guy said without moving a muscle. Kind of smart of him, since Dennis was ready to pounce the moment he moved. Moving would be a stupid thing to do anyway, since it would just checkmate the guy, allowing Dennis to kill him without any risk. It was a bit impressive to see an opponent who understood what was happening in the fight, even if it was just the very basics. If only he also realized that he was supposed to finally shoot, then Dennis would–

  “Tell you what, I’ll lower the gun if you won’t try to cut me up,” the guy continued talking. What? No. It was noise. A distraction tactic? That was new, goblins didn’t try to confuse him with words, he’ll need to include talking into his battle predictions. Oh, could he shittalk his way to victory if he could apply his talent to that? It felt like a bit of a stretch, but his mind was already expanding on the possibilities. An intelligent opponent could be disarmed verbally in so many ways. It was like he was blind to a whole separate school of fighting, and now his mind started working overtime to–

  “No one is going to cut up anyone!” John shouted as he started to move towards Dennis. The battle plan was adjusted. “What the hell is wrong with you two?! Dennis, lower the fucking–”

  “John, shut up!” the bearded guy shouted, and then continued more quietly, “Don’t. Move. Look at him. The kid’s not there. I fucked up. Talk to him, talk at him, but don’t fucking move if you don’t want to turn into a fucking pinata. How much of what you told me about him was bullshit?”

  “Wha– What do you–” It took a moment for John to reorient himself before his face showed the expression of realisation and quite a bit of fear. “Oh shit. Fuck. No bullshit, none at all. Dennis, would you please kindly lower the sword? I promise Michael won’t shoot you. You’re not fighting, you’re in the fort. No one is fighting you, don’t look at the gun. Michael, why the fuck are you still poining the gun at him? We need to call Nancy, she’ll–”

  “If I lower it I will fucking die,” Michael said calmly. “I’ve seen that look before. Talk to us, Dennis. Where are you? What is happening right now?”

  As far as fights went this one was the most confusing Dennis ever had. There was way too much talking and not enough limbs flying. He wasn’t sure yet if he liked or disliked having an intelligent opponent. On one hand, banter and verbal fights added such a beautiful layer of possibility to the whole dance, but on the other one what was happening right now wasn’t even banter. They were trying to, what, calm him down? He was calm. Just a bit confused about what exactly they were trying to achieve. Was John a part of the fight or not? Did the gun guy decide that he didn’t like his chances of winning when he would shoot, so he tried to stall in hopes of outside factors changing the situation? It kind of made sense, but then again there was no guarantee that new random factors would influence the fight in his favor, so it was a weird decision. He was starting to think that maybe unintelligent opponents would be preferable, just to make the fights less confusing? Then again, he now really wanted to try out a few fights where shittalking was a part of the exchange. Then again–

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “Talk to me, kid. Where are you? What is happening right now?”

  More stalling? It just didn’t make sense. They were in a stalemate already, there was no need to add talking to the mix if his goal was to stall. Did the guy have another goal? Why the hell was he so confusing? Ugh. Whatever. Dennis would lose nothing by engaging with the talking, and it was getting annoyingly exhausting to be 100% focused on the barrel in order to dodge or parry. Moving this on would be preferable.

  “In John's office,” Dennis said. “We’re fighting.”

  “Okay, good. Why are we fighting?”

  Dennis almost shrugged before remembering that he couldn’t without messing up his stance.

  “Dunno,” he said. “It just happened.”

  “I would like us to stop fighting, Dennis. Can we do that? I will lower my gun, and you will lower your sword, and the fight will be over. Is that something you can do?”

  A confusing fucking fight.

  “I mean…” Dennis tried to formulate his problem with the idea. “Aren’t you trying to shoot me?”

  “No. I was never going to shoot you.”

  That was just stupid.

  “That’s just stupid.”

  “This whole situation is stupid,” John muttered, slowly sitting back down in his chair. His hands were shaking.

  After they both slowly lowered their weapons, Michael released a breath that he was holding. Dennis was just standing awkwardly, unsure on how to proceed. The whole point was to smack people until they listened to him, and okay, maybe he was a bit too quick to go for the blade because people with authority telling him what to do pissed him off, but… What was he supposed to do now? Talk? Guys like Michael never changed their minds when they decided something, that was the whole reason why Dennis started to prefer the whole ‘violence as an argument’ thing. But going back to smacking now after it backfired into a weird-ass fight literally a minute ago felt like a wrong choice.

  “So,” John said. “What the fuck just happened?”

  “I apologise,” Michael said to Dennis at the same time. “I heard that you beat up people who disagree with you, and wanted to, so to say, put you in your place when that inevitably happened with me. I didn’t consider that you might be… jumpy when put into a threatening situation, after everything that happened. Does that happen often?”

  “You mean, like, when I get into the zone?”

  “Let’s call it that, yes,” Michael agreed. His voice was calm, but there was a hint of a weird intensity to it. “Since the moment you woke up here, did that happen to you before?”

  “Nah, man.” Dennis shrugged. “It’s just a fighting thing, you need to focus, right? Not much of fighting in the fort, so nah. Well, once or twice maybe? Definitely less than five. The dudes who are training sometimes put me on edge, and some other minor stuff, but I’ve been getting used to it.”

  “Jesus…” John murmured, glancing at Michael. They shared a look.

  “Would you consider not carrying your sword around while you’re in the fort?” Michael asked.

  “No,” Dennis said.

  “It wouldn’t work,” John said at the same time. “He doesn’t really need it. Not a single thing that I’ve told you about him was bullshit.”

  Michael pinched the bridge of his nose, contemplating something.

  “I think you guys are getting sidetracked with whatever this is,” Dennis said while putting his sword back into the sheath and sitting down on the free chair. “I came here so you would tell the gatekeeper guy to stop being a pussy and let me out. I wanna grind more levels.”

  Michael groaned. John looked more worried. Some time passed in silence as Michael was thinking about whatever it was that he was thinking about.

  “Okay,” he finally said. “I don’t see any good options. Just to be clear, you’re not really asking, right? What are you going to do if we say no?”

  Dennis glanced at his sword. He was now closer to them, in a distance that was perfect for smacking. The gun won’t help anymore, he could just–

  “Stop. I see it. Fuck,” Michael said. “I’ll talk out loud, okay? In normal circumstances I would never let a kid in your condition out on the battlefield–”

  “In my condition?”

  “Let me finish. What we have are not normal circumstances. You are, albeit arguably, our strongest asset. Making you even stronger is a boon for the whole community, and just your existence on its own is enough to allow us to do things that otherwise would’ve been too risky. So our initial idea was to make you a part of our main raiding party once you recovered.”

  “I wanna do it solo. They’ll slow me down,” Dennis said. “I’m literally a speedster, no one can keep up.”

  “It doesn’t matter anymore anyway,” Michael said. “You are a danger for everyone around you. If I could’ve, I would’ve forced you to stay in the fort until you’re more stable. But we can’t contain you, we won’t make you less deadly if we take your weapons, and I have no idea how to reason with you. I can’t in good conscience put you into a raiding party while knowing that there’s a chance you would kill them all if someone steps on your toe the wrong way. So, the way I see it, the most optimal move would be to let you go alone and pray that you don’t go crazy.”

  Wasn’t that… exactly what he wanted? Dennis didn’t agree that he was a ‘danger’ to people, though it sounded cool as hell, but he cared about what the dude thought even less, as long as he got what he wanted.

  “Awesome.”

  “But I’m not the kind of person who puts all his bets on prayers,” Michael continued. “So here is the deal. We will assign you a handler. When you’re in the fort, that person will always be with you. When they ask you something, I want you at least to consider doing that instead of outright refusing. And, you are forbidden from assaulting people. Obviously.”

  Again, Dennis had no idea what the dude was thinking about. He wanted to give him a tagalong?

  “What are you going to do if I say no?” He decided to steal Michael’s negotiation move.

  “We won’t let you back in the fort,” Michael answered sternly.

  Okay, that was a bit metal.

  “I wanna be able to hit people who annoy me.”

  “You will be able to ask your handler to hit people for you,” Michael compromised.

  “Deal.”