Thief of Time

Dia’s words were light-hearted, but there was a more important reason behind why she had stepped up to fight. From what she could tell, of the four of them, the one with the most experience in fighting was her — and more importantly, her skills were chosen for the express purpose of fighting.

“You?” The unknown mana-user took a step back. “Hold on. How many of you guys are mana-users?”

“Why don’t you make a guess?” Dia replied. “I make you this offer once. Leave. And you won’t be killed.”

“Tch. Lirac never runs from a fight. You want my land? Show me that you’re strong enough to have it!” The sounds of metal dragging on stone wormed into her ears as the newcomer brandished two chains around. “Missy. Don’t expect me to go lightly on you.”

Dia snorted, before unsheathing her sword. A gift from her mother; the sword was an unusual one; the hilt itself was larger than most other swords, but nothing had stopped her from winning duels with it.

Some of the squares at the top-left of her vision — she had shifted them to a place she liked better — began to wink out, as she activated skill after skill. At the same time, her sword, which she had trained with for upwards of a decade, began to shimmer with a faint blue glow.

Chains flew towards her as she took a step forward, arcing towards her in a way that should have been impossible. Repelling the incoming chains with a soft, curving stroke, Dia slid towards Lirac, her blade poised to land a glancing blow. Pirouetting on the spot, her body dodged the chains, which had once again dived in from an unnatural angle to strike her back.

By now, Dia could tell that her instincts and the effects of Sword Dance had melded. In such a state, she was a master at the sword, matched only by peers who had the same level of training and a similar skill as hers.

Unfortunately, Lirac here did not fall into that category.

The chains flew once more, stabbing towards her. She responded with a complex set of footwork, waltzing over to Lirac with her sword pointed at her. Her weapon came to life a moment later, sweeping out slowly and gently at her enemy’s arm.

From the light in Lirac’s eyes, Dia could tell that the man before her was confident that such an attack would do no harm. His muscles shifted, and air howled as the chains behind Dia stabbed down at her unprotected back.

She could sense them coming, but Dia didn’t need to care, her eyes focused on the sword and the sword alone. Her dance partner reached out lightly, the point of the sword like a finger pointing out, and a drop of blood flew.

Lirac froze.

Her skill, Fated Sword, had activated.

The rattling of the chains creeping up on her stopped. At the same time, blood burst out from Lirac like a flower blooming under the light of the three Moons, and the mana surrounding him scattered.

[Fated Sword has levelled up.]

As the Goddess of Learning’s words echoed in her ear, Lirac dropped to a knee, a movement serenaded by the sounds of chains falling onto the floor. A puddle of blood expanded outwards from him rapidly, staining the dull stone underneath him red.

“What…have you done to Lirac?” Lirac raised his right arm, only for even more blood to spurt out.

“The battle’s over,” Dia replied. “Surrender.”

“Over?” Lirac’s eyes flashed, and the chains began to move once more. Dia leapt back as the two chains charged through where she was a moment ago, and stone chips flew. As they smashed into the floor. Instead of falling to the ground lifelessly, the chains coiled up a moment later, in a manner reminiscent of a snake.

Dia’s eyes flickered at those chains. Evidently, this was his main attacking skill — the earlier strikes were just Lirac using the chains without any help. However, he clearly hadn’t expected her to all but cripple his body with a light touch.

Lirac let out a crazed grin, and the chains flanking him began to glow with a sickly green light that lit up his face unevenly. “It’s not over until Lirac kills you!”

He coughed, and even more blood flew. The chains, however, did not seem to be affected by his current state, and they began to dart out at Dia. Her sword danced once more, blocking the rapid jabs and stabs. Placing strength in each of her swings and strikes, the metal links that made up the chains began to shatter.

Dia continued to track the shortening chains, dancing with her sword. Once again, her lithe form drew close to Lirac, and blue light lit up the darkening streets as she brought down her sword onto her foe’s chains.

His eyes flashed as the chains grinded against her sword. “Explode!”

The chains that had been blocking her attack shattered entirely, creating tens of metallic shards that flew at her. The blade in her hand weaved out a silvery net, but Lirac’s counterattack had been too sudden for her to react properly.

Searing pain ran through her nerves as three metal shards stabbed into her left arm. A barrier of blue light separated her from Lirac, but by then, the damage had been done. Dia glanced down at her left arm, where a numbness was spreading. She had been careless. Falling for such an attack borne from desperation was the mark of an unskilled fighter, of a novice in battles.

Did her instincts dull? Or was it the fact that she had been used to upright duels? Dia couldn’t quite tell, but mistakes had been made here.

And yet, there were always ways to make up for mistakes. The pendant around her neck emitted a wave of power, and the chilling numbness vanished a moment later.

“Did you enjoy my Mana Poison skill? Enjoy your last moments!” Lirac cackled, and more blood dribbled out from his wounds. He slumped onto the ground a moment later, and Dia turned her attention to the metal fragments embedded in her arm. None of them had done any lasting damage; that attack was clearly meant to maximise the chances of drawing blood.

“Dia, are you alright?” Lily asked.

“I’m fine,” Dia replied, without looking back. Walking over to his unmoving form, she flipped the unmoving Lirac with her toes, so that his eyes would face the sky.

“You…how?”

Dia looked down on Lirac emotionlessly. As her foe laid there, unable to resist, she gripped the sword in her hand tightly. What did she want to do with this foe of hers? The two of them had their own goals, their own dreams. This Lirac was by no means a heinous criminal.

Yet, it would be stupid to let someone with a grudge go. Dia had read all about how the heroes of stories let a defeated enemy go, only for them to strike at a better time. Only a fool would let them leave.

Dia exhaled slowly. Blue light flew as she stabbed the sword in her hand downwards, and a minor tremor erupted outwards, with her as an epicentre. Stone chips flew as the sword stabbed into the ground, a few centimetres away from Lirac. She stared at her helpless foe for a moment, and then turned to the bartender.

“Heal him.”

The bartender looked at her evenly, and then unbuckled a silver flask. Everyone, save for Farah and the others, backed away from him, but the bartender didn’t seem to mind that as he walked towards the fallen Lirac.

“Why?”

“A stone in my path doesn’t need to be crushed,” Dia replied. “It can be shifted to the side. I cannot bring myself to kill someone defenceless, someone whose only crime was being in my way.”

“Good answer.” The bartender uncorked the flask, sending out a stench that made her mind reel, and Dia’s sense of smell stopped working immediately. Before she could even back away, he poured the contents onto the defeated Lirac, and the wounds began to heal before her eyes.

“You…” Lirac pushed himself up.

“You just happened to be in my way. Not an enemy. Go,” said Dia. “This place is ours now. I will show no such mercy a second time. Farah?”

“They’re alive too.” Farah’s voice was odd, distorted. It was probably the result of their sense of smell malfunctioning, but Dia didn’t really care about that right now. Her eyes were fixated slowly on Lirac, who had gotten up. Most of his wounds had closed, even those inflicted by her Fated Sword, but whatever hostility her foe might have had no longer existed, replaced with a blend of emotions she couldn’t quite name.

The three mages, who were sprawled on the ground, got to their feet too. In silence, the four of them walked out of the mansion, followed by the twenty others that Farah had knocked down earlier.

Dia sighed as they vanished from sight. “Say, am I a fool?”

“I think you should have killed them,” said Risti.

Lily grunted.

“As long you know it’s your choice,” said Farah, “I don’t think it’s worth having second thoughts about it.”

“You have your own set of principles,” said the bartender. “I respect that.”

Dia’s eyes drifted over to Claud. She couldn’t help but remember how he had gotten her out of a fight so easily, without drawing bloodshed. A moment later, Claud noticed her stare, and he smiled.

“Iso—Dia. I think you just saw yourself in them. That’s all.” He smiled. “No need for regrets. If they come again, we’re always here.”

Dia nodded.

“Well, now that we’re done, let’s get down to the hard stuff,” said the bartender. “We’re taking over operations, so we should set down some good old rules, as well as the hierarchy. Let’s enter the mansion and talk there.”