Lucian was of two minds about the greeting that he’d received from Brutus. On the one hand, this was a man that’d been rehearsing how to confront his brother’s killer—or at least, intimidate a guest—with his men for a long time. That level of discipline and coordination needed to be practiced, no doubt, which was a bit absurd to think about. On the other hand… it worked. Lucian felt properly rattled standing in front of Brutus. If he hadn’t been through so much lately, he probably would’ve lost his nerve.

  Rather than speak, Lucian cast another spell—Torchlight—and sent a flame up into the air. Meant for fog of war maps, it illuminated a fairly wide area. He beheld Brutus. The man was a few inches taller than Lucian, but with the same lithe figure. He had long dark hair held in a ponytail and wore a tight black silk outfit that looked both comfortable and practical. Unlike Sancar, who was a bit blocky, Lucian would call Brutus handsome. That was how you could tell people were important characters in most games, and War of Four was no exception.

  Brutus finally withdrew his spear from Lucian’s vision. He planted the butt of his artifact on the ground, and eyed Aurelia. “Who’s the beauty hanging on your arm?”

  “Not important,” Lucian said, pulling his arm free.

  Lucian considered his words carefully. Brutus was flamboyant, vain, savage, unpredictable, and even arbitrary. That said, he inspired loyalty for a reason. He occupied the role of Martial Prince for a reason. His methods might be unorthodox, but he did genuinely fight for good.

  Lucian needed this man on his side. Problem was… there was usually only one way to get through to him. Martial skill. That was the approach he intended to use. He needed courage.

  Because this wasn’t a negotiation—it was a provocation.

  “I heard that if someone teaches you a spear skill you don’t know, you’ll teach them one in turn,” Lucian said. “Is that offer still valid?”

  Silence followed his question. Brutus stared Lucian down while his subordinates all started to laugh. Then, Brutus slammed his spear’s haft on the ground when the noise started to get out of hand. A quake far more intense than any of the others reverberated on the ground. One single pound from Brutus outclassed most of this army.

  “I didn’t hear a joke,” Brutus said darkly. He seemed quite angry. That was rather different than the response Lucian remembered, but the protagonist ordinarily hadn’t been responsible for the death of his brother. Brutus walked up to Lucian, then stood over him. “Or was it a joke, Lucian? Tell me you were joking,” he asked, a warning in his tone.

  “No joke. If I can perform a spear skill you can’t imitate… you’ll have to teach me one I want,” Lucian said. “That’s the vow you made, no?”

  Brutus clicked his tongue. “You must have lost your mind.”

  “No, I got a new one,” Lucian said, inspiring odd looks from those nearby. “Well? Don’t tell me your word isn’t your bond.”

  This was pushy. Very pushy. Lucian counted on this man’s irrationality going just far enough to give Lucian some leverage. Brutus eyed him, scrutinizing his features carefully. Lucian tried to keep steady, holding his gaze, but those dark eyes were like a bottomless pit.

  “You know, I do believe I underestimated you,” Brutus said. “Here I thought there was no way that you could get under my skin… but those were the most infuriating words you could have possibly said.”

  Lucian tensed, the words ‘smart dog’ on his lips, ready to be shouted at any moment. He held back. He still had faith in his plan.

  “I had a much crueler welcome prepared for you,” Brutus said. “Something I thought would break you completely. I decided to tone it down on the chance that my brother might’ve been a victim of his own generosity, and you a mere unwitting party in his death. It almost gave me comfort knowing that he died trying to help someone and encountered bad luck rather than betrayal.”

  Brutus advanced, and Lucian took an instinctive step back. He spotted what he needed—a spear.

  “You just saw my men act in total tandem,” Brutus said, spinning his spear through his fingers with alarming elegance. “At a moment’s notice, they all hastened to obey. I trust each and every man here with my life!” he shouted. “And you come to us, some bloodied by a thousand battles, and dare say there’s anything you can teach?”

  “I do,” Lucian said, standing his ground. Brutus hated cowards. “All I ask is that if you can’t imitate—”

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  “Shut up,” Brutus said. A tear fell down his face, and Lucian hoped that wasn’t a sign it wouldn’t end after what he hoped. “My brother died because of what you did. Little Sancar. I swallowed that poison because I had no choice, even when I wanted to break into that jail cell and crush your skull into little bits. Your father, my own people… they betrayed me, protected you. I swallowed a lot over the years. Every time I heard your name, I thought… ‘Sancar died for this? My baby brother, dead, for something like you?’ And now, once more, you’re here… and you expect me to swallow more bullshit.

  “Tell me, men!” Brutus shouted. “Should I eat bullshit?”

  “No!” they shouted in tandem.

  Lucian moved closer to a spear on a weapon rack, not taking his eyes from Brutus. The time was coming nearer.

  “So, we have their opinion,” Brutus continued. “No bullshit. I’m inclined to agree. I’ve grown tired of the taste years ago. Every time you acted arbitrarily, I wanted to vomit knowing you were the reason my precious brother died. Even if you aren’t guilty of that, I don’t care. You’re guilty of something else, and you’re the reason he’s dead regardless. And having seen you throw your weight around for so many years, I no longer care. So, I’ve decided. After hearing that bullshit, I’ve decided to make some of my own.”

  “Lucian,” Aurelia called out in concern.

  He shook his head. He didn’t know why he was gutsy enough for this, but he wasn’t ready for her intervention just yet. Instinct told him otherwise. He inched nearer to the spear, turning his Formless Essence into internal energy in preparation.

  “Men!” Brutus shouted, spinning his spear through his fingers fast enough to make a small gale. “I’m going to tell people Lucian and his woman tripped onto a spear, the clumsy little rascals. It simply couldn’t be helped. What do you think you’d say if anyone came asking?”

  “They tripped!” they returned.

  “Onto what?” Brutus shouted, spinning the spear ever faster.

  “A spear!”

  Lucian grabbed the spear from the nearby weapon rack just as Brutus stopped spinning the spear, catching it with such power Lucian felt it where he stood. That power was his signal that the man before him had decided to move. He triggered the Blessing of the Soothsayer in that moment. Time froze, and countless futures stretched out before Lucian—nearly infinite possibilities.

  In every single timeline, Lucian was hit.

  He couldn’t believe it for a moment. Under no circumstances did Brutus miss. There were only varying degrees of pain, and never a total escape from it. That could only mean one thing—Brutus used a particular skill, one that completely eliminated the possibility of missing. Such skills existed, of course, but only one for the spear.

  Gungnir.

  God, he’s the worst… Lucian despaired in frozen time. I thought I could dodge him like Metterand, but he had to use that? On me?!

  He parsed through the myriad options one by one, seeing himself die in countless brutal ways. Brutus was aiming for the torso. There wasn’t any way to avoid a hit to the torso, specifically. All of the outcomes looked astronomically painful, but some of them looked at least survivable. The blessing would definitely be able to help him survive the exchange, but the question was what came after.

  Even if Lucian got out of this, he didn’t know quite how reasonable Brutus would be after. He was fairly confident, but… he couldn’t take chances. He needed to get near Aurelia. At the same time, he also needed to demonstrate the skill he intended to show Brutus if there was any hope of getting the man to relent.

  Lucian parsed through countless timelines again and again, searching for that way out. There wasn’t a perfect outcome, frankly, not really. But this was the best one he could find. He chose his path.

  It all happened in an instant. Brutus surged forth with speed Lucian had never experienced before—not with Metterand, not against the duplicate of the Dragonwarden, no one. The spear aimed for his heart. Lucian raised his knee up while lowering his body. The spear pierced straight through his knee, slowing it just barely enough for Lucian to duck enough it grazed the flesh above his collarbone.

  Lucian went low, weaving between Brutus’ legs until he fell flat to the ground. Brutus began to turn so quickly it seemed unfair… but then, Lucian’s power was also a bit unfair. His body perfectly assumed the position of the skill he intended to demonstrate as fast as he’d ever done it. He felt the internal energy burn up… but it also resonated with something else in his body.

  The power of wind started to burst within Lucian’s being. This wasn’t magic—this was the Draconic Aspect. Each of the draconic skills that he’d learned changed their effect depending on what aspect the user had. Lucian used the one he thought was best—the green dragon’s aspect, that of air. The power of wind burst freely from his body.

  Lucian burst forth as fast as he could. The skill he used, Draconic Verdict, was bestial, savage, primal. It involved putting the whole of the user’s body into the attack. Both of the wounds he’d gained hurt beyond description, but still he thrust out. Brutus’ eyes widened, but he was still the Martial Prince. He made to dodge. It didn’t matter.

  Lucian’s spear slammed Brutus right in the eye. He didn’t have time to see the damage done, because Lucian used the resulting burst of wind to blast backward, tumbling to land beside Aurelia.

  “Smart dog,” he said immediately.

  Aurelia assumed her divine beast form. She sat beside him, concealing him with a few of her tails as he sat up and quickly cast the best healing magic he could on himself. Lucian had survived the unexpected use of Gungnir… but this definitely wasn’t over. He peered past Aurelia’s tails.

  “No bullshit,” Lucian called out. “Promise.”