Gunther came out of the shop stumbling, tripped on a rock and landed painfully on his face. He was a haggered thing, clothes torn, skinned bruise and eyes tight with anguish.


    Nero was on the verge of calling out to him when a second figure emerged from the shop. This one was big, broad and with a runed weapon by his hip. A town guard.


    Instinctively he slid behind a wall and obscured himself.


    The guard circled the smaller man, eyes like a cat toying with a mouse. “I’m going to ask you again-” He began, but Gunter cut him off.


    “And I’m going to tell you the same fucking thing!” He coughed. “I don’t have your fucking tax money, it’s a nasty side effect of having my shop wrecked.”


    “You think this is a joke?”


    “A joke would be you thinking you have any power to change the laws of supply and demand just because you have a pointy bit of metal.” Gunther snapped, and Nero winced before the hit came.


    It didn’t make it any less easy to witness, the guard cracked a kick into Gunther’s gut and the potion master emptied the contents of his stomach onto the dirt with a violent hurl.


    Nero looked away before the assault began, instead he only heard it. The dull heavy thudding of a body being hit and the sound of Ember gasping right after every impact was enough to paint a visceral picture of everything that was happening.


    When it stopped, Nero opened his eyes to see a heaving Gunther on the ground. He was alive, bleeding from several cuts and bruises but alive nonetheless. He breathed a sigh of relief, then watched the guard spit on the helpless man and leave.


    He was jogging towards the healer in moments. “Gunther.” He called out.


    “Leave me alone.” The mean croaked.


    With motions of agony, Gunther crawled up to his knees. He pressed his palm methodically around his body, likely looking for injuries and wincing when he found a particularly bad one.


    His eyes stared ahead into a cold emptiness, like a man who’d lost all reason to keep going.


    “Gunther.” Nero called out again. “Are you okay?”


    “I’m fine.” He whispered as he got to shaky feet.


    “The shop- how is it, what did he d-”


    “I said I’m fine!” The man battered Nero’s words back into his mouth. His eyes were pools of fury now. “Now is not the time for me to manage your guilt, yes, you’re the reason why this happened and no you can’t change it, the best you can do is leave me alone when I ask you to!”


    Nero actually flinched at his words and then his eyes were staring at his feet. When he looked up, the man’s eyes were filled with regret.


    “I… I’m sorry lad. I didn’t mean to say that.” Gunther drew in a shaky breath, the signs of a man barely holding it together. Tears began to spill past the rims of his eye lids and without another word, he turned and made his way for his shop.


    Nero began marching through the streets. His heart was racing, fists curled and eyes hot with rage. He hadn’t even thought about it, but knew where he was going, who he was looking for.


    “What are you doing?” Ember asked, voice pitched with concern.


    “I’m going to hurt that guard very fucking horribly and then I’m going to make sure he never touches Gunther again.” He told her.


    He didn’t know how his eyes looked, but within them must have been something terrible because Ember failed to look at him. “Nero, think about what you’re doing.”


    “I already did.” He told her calmly. “That guard’s name is Bently, I know all their names, I mean, there’s only ten of them. And he’s at the end of his shift, so what he’s going to be doing after this is heading over to see his mistress, he likes to go through the back of the town so he’s not seen, no one ever goes through there this early.”


    Ember’s face was tight with a mix of horror and realisation. While mapping the routes of the guards, he had told her it was something he was merely doing out of boredom and not that it was being done in preparation for the day he needed to attack one.


    Well both would be false, he’d done so because he never knew if he might need it or not. Today, it seemed he did.


    There was silence as Nero followed Bently, not even the sound of Ember’s voice rang through the air. He kept a good distance behind the bastard, making turns long after his target had made them. There was no need to be quick, he already knew where the man was going.


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Soon enough, save from a pile of rubble to the side, the two of them were the only ones in the alleyway.


    He couldn’t risk having his face seen, so he’d have to be smart about it. He’d have to move in quickly and effectively. Stradale’s guards were all Mighty, not as strong as Selvas, he thought, but superhumans and trained to fight.


    It was now or never.


    There was a tightness in his chest for a long moment, he was hesitating. He shouldn’t do it, it was too risky, too dangerous. All of those thoughts vanished at the memory of Gunther’s broken body and Nero was dashing at the guard like lightning.


    He was faster now, so he’d reached the man just as his head had begun to turn around. He was stronger too so it was barely any effort to slam his face against the wall and pin him there.


    Bently tried to scream but Nero shoved his face harder against the wall to muffle it, twisting the jaw down and compressing his windpipe. The man was panicking and he had the feeble struggles to prove it.


    “Make one more noise and I’ll kill you.” Nero said with a voice that wasn’t his. This one was all gravelly and coarse but more than enough to get the message across. The man was quiet as death soon enough.


    “Good.” Nero approved.


    “I… I don’t have any crystals.” The man began quickly.


    “Good, well neither does Gunther.” Nero replied.


    He could practically feel the realisation of why he was there sink into Bently with how slack his body went. “”I was just doing my job.” He protested.


    “Harm him again and I’ll make sure that’s the last time you ever walk.” As far as threats went it was rather gruesome and Nero wasn’t sure whether he was lying or not. Bently clearly believed him and that was what mattered.


    “Alright, alright, just… just let me go.” The man begged with a shaky voice.


    Nero slammed his fistagainst the back of the man’s skull and felt his body go limp. He set the unconscious guard down on his back.


    His hands were shaking, he realised, animated with adrenaline. What he’d done was stupid, risky and incredibly impulsive. But he’d gotten away with it.


    He turned to see the pile of rubble behind him shift.


    Nero’s eyes narrowed. Seconds past and then the rubble exploded outwards as a figure emerged from underneath it.


    Dust clouded the air and obscured their features. All Nero could make out was the sight of a person racing towards the end of the alleway.


    A person who’d seen what he’d done to a guard.


    A person who was now mere metres from emerging into the town.


    Nero’s feet were moving before he could think to tell them to. His body was tearing through the air like javelin. He was doing everything to catch the witness before they were in view of the entire town and it still wasn’t enough. They must have been Mighty.


    Despite his months of training, he was just too slow.


    His life flashed before his eyes, images of Mercury and death sunk into his heart.


    He had to do something, and yet the only thing that came to mind was a fool’s hope.


    He might not be able to reach his target, but he could shoot him. The only problem was, Nero still hadn’t learnt how to use ranged Light Breathing.


    Well, there’s never a bad time to train.


    He brought his light to bear around his palm, pointed it forwards and like always, focused his will on projecting it outwards.


    Nero could feel his hold on it slipping, feel the light breaking apart, already in the first stages of explosion. He resisted the urge to close his eyes and brace for impact, he had to see this through, there was no other choice.


    Come on, come on you bastard, listen to me for once!


    The light leapt from his fingers, shot through the space between them and slammed into the stranger’s back. It took them off their feet and into the air and when they met the ground it was with a bounce and a roll.


    Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.


    He’d done it, he’d fucking done it. Only took him two months but fuck it if it wasn’t worth the time and effort.


    He jogged the rest of the way there and found his heart drop at what he saw when he reached the man.


    He knew who this was. He was one of the first people he’d met in this town, and it was a meeting that he preferred not to think about.


    Tommy let out soft sounds of agony as he laid there, clutching his side painfully while holding a face twisted in anguish. With a gaze up at Nero, that anguish evaporated into horror and realisation. “Please don’t hurt me, I didn’t see anything, I won’t tell anyone what you are.”


    And like that Nero was certain the man knew everything he had wished he didn’t. It made his heart burn and his stomach churn. How had he seen him? Tommy must have caught sight of Nero’s magic as he turned to make the corner. “Why were you here?” He asked, forcing himself calm, it didn’t make any sense, no one was ever here.


    Tommy looked over to the unconscious guard and hesitated before speaking. “I… I was here for him.”


    Nero frowned for a moment before realisation hit him. “Trying to mug him. You figured out this was his route too and it was just my fucking luck that you decided to when I chose to do something incredibly stupid as well.”


    He looked down at the man, saw the terror etch itself ever deeper into his face with every passing moment. He knew Nero was a Light Breather and they both knew what would happen to him if this ever got out.


    Tommy’s voice was a low whisper now. “I didn’t see anything, I won’t tell anyone.”


    “Yes you will.” Nero told him. “You know what I am, you know what I’m worth and you’re an addict who’s going through a case of withdrawal so bad that he’s willing to try and mug a guard to get his fix, an act which would almost surely end quite grizzly for you. I could threaten to chop off your balls and that wouldn’t be enough to keep your mouth shut, sooner rather than later, you’re going to tell someone who’s willing to pay for the secret about the mysterious stranger.”


    It was the truth, he didn’t know whether or not Tommy agreed, the man didn’t speak, so petrified that his lips seemed preternaturally sealed. His eyes spoke though, they begged him. ‘You don’t have to do this,’ they said, but they were wrong, they were so, so wrong.


    He was torn, but he often found himself torn lately, being torn was just a side effect of making decisions. It was the decisions themselves that made a person.


    Nero made his decision.


    He got to his feet and with slow steady steps began walking. He’d have to move quickly, people would be out and about soon, which would make hiding that much harder. Then there’d be the guards, they’d come for him soon, it was simply a matter of time.


    He couldn’t pack anything, couldn’t risk it, all he could do was rely on the skills he gained in the two months he’d lived here.


    “Where are you going?” Tommy asked, voice tight.


    It probably wasn’t wise to answer, but Nero did so anyways, to solidify his decision. “I’m leaving Stradale.”