Kidu loosed two more arrows in quick succession, Ezlas blocking the missiles with his thick shield. As they drew closer together, Kidu dropped his bow, picking up his spear from the ground. The bigger man had a fearsome reach with his spear and struck out with it—a warding and testing blow aimed at the slits in Ezlas's heavy helm.

  Raising his shield, Ezlas blocked the blow with the boss and struck down with his black axe, aiming to cleave through the weapon's haft. To the casual onlooker, Enkidu's spear, banded with metal, seemed to resist the bite of the strange axe. However, any experienced warrior would know that one should not resist such a blow unless absolutely necessary. Likely, Kidu had a relaxed grip on his polearm, moving his weapon with the axe's head.

  It, however, opened up his center line, and Ezlas was quick to exploit it with a follow-up chop aimed to split his head. The older fighter did not expect the punch that Enkidu launched with his gauntleted arm, which both blocked the strike and struck Ezlas across his helm. When the obsidian blade had struck Kidu’s gauntlet, there had been a small, barely visible, flare of light indicating warding magic of some hard.

  Pushed back by the raw force of the blow, the enforcer was nonetheless quick to recover, bringing his shield up to cover himself. Enkidu wasted no time; he lunged forward, his spear thrusting in rapid succession, each strike aiming to find a gap in Ezlas' armor. The enforcer blocked and parried deftly, his shield absorbing the impacts while his axe remained poised for a counterattack.

  Seeing his thrusts were ineffective, Enkidu shifted tactics. He feinted a low stab, drawing Ezlas's shield downward, then swung the butt of his spear upward, catching the man under the chin with a jarring blow. The Guild’s enforcer stumbled back, momentarily dazed. Seizing the opportunity, Enkidu charged, crashing Ezlas to the ground with his great mass.

  They grappled fiercely on the floor, the clash of their armor echoing in the air. Enkidu's hands clawed at Ezlas's helmet, fingers seeking any hold. With a guttural roar, he managed to hook his fingers beneath the visor. Muscles bulging, he yanked hard, the straps of the helm snapping under the strain. The helmet came free, revealing Ezlas's sweat-soaked face, eyes wide with surprise and fury.

  "Like prying the shell from a Rockcrab!" Enkidu snarled in victory as he punched his face.

  Ezlas' response was swift and brutal. Axe still gripped in his hand, he clocked the bigger man across the jaw, pushing him off. Momentarily stunned, it gave the smaller man enough time to get on his feet. An experienced veteran, Ezlas did not relent; he swung his shield in a wide arc, the metal rim catching Enkidu across the jaw as he was getting up, sending him sprawling to the ground.

  "You'll regret that," Ezlas spat, blood trickling from a split lip. He kicked Enkidu's spear away, the weapon skittering across the stone tiles. Raising his axe, he advanced on the fallen warrior.

  But Enkidu was not so easily defeated. Rolling to the side, he avoided the axe blade as it smashed into the ground. In one fluid motion, he sprang to his feet and drew a long dagger from his belt. The two men faced off again, circling each other like predators.

  Ezlas lunged, axe whistling through the air. Riskily, Enkidu ducked under the black blade. He countered with a slash aimed at Ezlas's exposed cheek, the blade leaving a thin red line.

  Enraged, Ezlas swung wildly. Enkidu ducked under the blow and drove his shoulder into Ezlas's chest, knocking him off balance. Spotting his spear lying nearby, Enkidu dived toward it, rolling as he scooped it up. He came up in a crouch, weapon at the ready.

  Ezlas charged, but this time the Hunter was prepared. He sidestepped at the last moment, hooking the wings of his spear around Ezlas's ankle and yanking hard. The enforcer crashed to the ground with a thunderous clang of metal, losing his grip on his weapon. Before Ezlas could recover, Enkidu was upon him.

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  Using the haft of his spear, Enkidu choked Ezlas from behind. Ezlas thrashed violently, his gauntleted fists flailing. Desperate, he slammed his elbow backward into Hunter's ribs, eliciting a small grunt. But Enkidu held firm, pulling upwards with greater force.

  Ezlas's face turned a deep shade of crimson, veins bulging as he struggled for air. His fingers clawed uselessly at the banded wood.

  "Yield," Enkidu growled loudly, his voice an icy glacier.

  Ezlas gurgled something, but his reply was lost in his strangled struggle. He grew weaker, his movements sluggish. The onlookers watched in tense silence, the only sounds were the scraping of armor and Enkidu’s grunts of effort.

  At last, Ezlas's body went slack, the fight drained from him. Enkidu held the choke a moment longer before releasing it, allowing Ezlas to slump forward onto the cold tiles. The enforcer lay motionless.

  Breathing heavily, the Hunter stood over his fallen opponent. Blood dripped from a cut above his brow, mingling with the sweat on his face. He retrieved his spear and planted the butt against the ground, using it to steady himself.

  The quiet was broken by the shuffling of feet as members of the Adventurers’ Guild moved forward. Their faces were a mix of anger and uncertainty. One stepped ahead, hand hovering near his weapon.

  "No foolishness now," I warned sharply. "Be grateful he still draws breath. Or so help me, I will cut you all down myself." Larynda stood beside me, her staff humming with a subtle arcane glow—a silent reminder of the power held in check.

  The guild members hesitated, fingers slipping away from their weapons. Tension hung thick in the air, a taut string ready to snap.

  But there is always one born with a death wish. Among them was such a soul—a black-haired man whose eyes burned with reckless fervor. With a wild battle cry, he charged at me, blade swinging. For a heartbeat, his fellows wavered, indecision playing across their features. Then, as if pulled by unseen strings, they surged forward to join him.

  Enkidu moved like an icy shadow. In a cold, unhurried motion, he thrust his spear into Ezlas’s exposed neck, the steel biting deep. Ezlas's eyes widened in shock before the light fled from them entirely. A clean kill, devoid of flourish or mercy. Wearily, Enkidu readied himself for the onslaught.

  But the adventurer’s last gasp of effort would be in vain.

  Larynda stepped forward, her green eyes hard as flint. She whispered an incantation, and from her staff burst a great murky lance of water. It crashed into the guild's formation like a wrathful tide, scattering men like driftwood, bowling them over with the force of a storm.

  The mercenaries and I needed no further invitation. We descended upon them as they struggled to rise, blades flashing. The clash of steel and the cries of the wounded filled the air—a grim symphony of death. There was no honor here, only the brutal efficiency of warriors claiming their due.

  I reveled in the slaughter but made sure to keep my delight hidden. It was basically, watered-down, but free experience. As they died, I searched their eyes for answers, for that moment when life became oblivion, but found nothing.

  I knew that more than ever, I had to fulfill the Necromancer’s quest. It was the key to my immortality, I knew it. Or, at the very least, a most important step towards it.

  When the din subsided, the stones were slick with blood. Calder spat a glob of phlegm onto one of the corpses, his face etched with disdain. He gave Enkidu and me a curt nod of respect—a silent acknowledgment of deeds done.

  As was our right, we looted them all for what was ours. We began to strip the fallen of their valuables, pilfering coin, weapons, anything of worth. In this world, the spoils went to the victors, and the dead had no need for such things.

  The wind picked up, carrying away the last whispers of life from the arena. Larynda gazed out over the grim tableau, her expression unreadable. The Hunter cleaned his spear, the blood smearing before it was wiped away.

  “I do not think I will add this day to my song,” he commented grimly.

  I could do nothing but clasp his armored shoulder and give him a noncommittal shrug.

  “It is what it is,” I said offhandedly, giving him the most asinine statement from my old world.