—AAAAHHHGG! —Ash shouts humiliatingly while he jumps, dodges and runs from Shāng’s magical attacks. From a safe distance, Shāng calmly performs his incantations while trying to hit his hateful opponent. I must admit this is somewhat amusing, Ash thinks. Running quickly, moving in circles around his attacker, Shāng strikes the ground a few meters ahead of Ash; a cloud of dust forms in that place and then Shāng launches another attack at short distance farther ahead, but with a bit more concentrated power. Ash, who neither reacted nor cared to dodge the dust cloud, passes through it, but as soon as he does, one foot ends up deeper than the other and he trips over a hole that Shāng had made earlier.

  It was only an instant that Ash fell to the ground, but it was enough for Shāng to land a powerful attack of pure impact, which violently pushes Ash and makes him roll across the ground. When the force of the attack fades, Ash tries to get up, but PUM! he receives another heavy attack from a distance. Ash falls to the ground again and Shāng, walking toward him, does not stop launching damaging magic at him; once again Ash receives the attack without getting a moment to breathe. A cloud of dust quickly begins forming larger and larger with each impact.

  When he can no longer see his target, Shāng stops using his powers and ceases attacking, waiting for the dust to dissipate so he can see that he has finally finished off the annoying being. But before it could clear, Shāng notices a small flash from inside and sees a blurred silhouette, and immediately afterward a javelin of blue light with an electrifying outline has been driven through his chest from one side to the other, stopping right in the middle before he could even realize it. He looks toward the cloud of dust and, as it disperses, Ash can be seen with the upper part of his body exposed by the clothes destroyed by Shāng’s attacks, with many bruises, superficial holes and some bloody skin peeled from his shoulder; he extends his hand toward Shāng and, when he snaps his fingers, a fleeting electrifying thread connects Ash’s finger with the javelin embedded in Shāng and, immediately afterward, he bursts like a balloon, leaving a bloody circular pattern on the ground adorned with one or another piece of him.

  —Uff! —Ash sighs— Now I’m sweating.

  Ash relaxes and begins to walk in circles around the place, and with every step he steps on each piece of Shāng while muttering —Well, since you managed to do some real damage to me, it’s time to raise the level of this fight. Though… I don’t know if it’s worth talking since I don’t think you can hear me, but in the meantime I’ll entertain myself kicking your pieces until you recover, hahaha —he finishes with a mocking laugh.

  —Wouldn’t it have been easier to call them instead of resorting to this madman? —Peng asks Agnar while the two remain seated in front of the screen drinking green tea.

  —You mean those idiots from the ISW? I already tried, but they said “sorry, unless the world explodes or the life of the planet is about to disappear, it’s not our business” —he said while doing a parodic imitation.

  —Yeeah, I don’t like those pretentious people either. I think they’re the most useless organization in the world, but it’s not like we can go against them just like that.

  —I hope Ash doesn’t lose, because otherwise I’ll have to send my team, and it won’t be an easy fight for them.

  —I don’t want to call you naive, but what the hell made you think it was a good idea to protect that dangerous mercenary?

  —He literally took a hostage important to me and basically left me with a very low price, and honestly, someone with experience from that era working for us wasn’t a bad thing.

  —You’re playing with fire.

  —Unfortunately, that’s true —Agnar says pessimistically.

  Meanwhile, on the screen it can be seen how the two opponents have resumed the fight and now Shāng, grabbing Ash by the neck, slams him against the ground again and again. Ash takes advantage of the interval he has before reaching the ground again for another slam, drives his foot into Shāng’s body and injects flames from within; Shāng’s stomach bursts, and thus another round begins.

  While in one place a bloody fight was taking place, Dante travels in a car he requested and heads toward where Aghat is. He had visited his parents in their yurta, who would soon depart for a warmer place in the south.

  As I arrived at the circle of yurtas, I began looking for the right one, passing by the doors one by one; some were open and others closed. From outside I could see some that seemed occupied by entire families, preparing to spend the rest of the day inside. After searching for a while, I reached my destination. A modest yurta, about six meters in diameter, with symbols of good luck on the door. I noticed there wasn’t much silence inside and decided to call out:

  —Nuucaa! —I shouted, and at that same moment I received the reply —Yj! —someone answered with a hoarse and deep voice. I entered calmly and found the family sitting in the center of the floor drinking tea at their table.

  Erdembileg, the father, and Otgonsetseg, the mother, were seated symmetrically with their son. Erdembileg, upon seeing me, invited me to sit beside him and, together with Aghat, the question was asked:

  —And what brings you here, Dante? —said the father, but before I could answer, the mother offered me tea, though then Erdembileg told her —No, my wife, for him bring better the airag.

  —No, thank you, for now I only drink on weekends.

  —Are you sure? I’ve been keeping it stored for some time.

  Dante looked at the bottle in Aghat’s mother’s arms and saw that it was full; that transparent liquid seemed to tempt him and invite him to open the cap seductively, but before Dante could fall to the seduction of alcohol, Aghat said:

  —Mother, please put that away, and you father stop insisting to him, this idiot screws things up when he gets drunk.

  The parents, somewhat embarrassed by their attitude and their son’s scolding, did as he asked.

  —And you, drunk, what have you come for? —he said while questioning Dante.

  —I came to ask for your forgiveness for being a Khariult! You’re right, I’m an immature idiot with several traumas to resolve, but today I understood that it’s normal to stumble and fall; it has happened to me, sometimes I didn’t even care what happened and other times the blows have been more painful than one in the balls, but what matters in the end is that one stands up and keeps moving forward —Dante expressed humbly.

  Aghat looked at him with surprise and then said to his father:

  —See? That’s what alcohol does to him, he already came drunk, he would never say something like that while sober.

  —Hey, that hurts, I’m literally making an important self-criticism and you ruin it with your lack of faith —said Dante, disappointed and in a cynical tone.

  —Excuse me!? —said Aghat bringing his hand to his chest, showing indignation —Today you have a revelation about me and hours later you come and say you had character development. Don’t you think you’re turning this illusion you have about improving a little… ridiculous? —Aghat told him with eloquence.

  —Ohhhhh! Sorry for trying to improve as a person! —Dante shouted with sarcasm.

  Erdembileg, silent and somewhat confused, intervened between them and asked what the problem was. After the whole story was told to him, the old man let out a sincere and harmless laugh and said:

  —I was surprised too, but that wouldn’t stop me from making sure this boy gives me grandchildren.

  —Father, we already talked about that —Aghat said with resentment.

  —Don’t worry, son, with him being drunk and a couple of blue pills everything is solved, and don’t worry about your partner, we will choose her —said the father with confidence.

  —Parents end up treating us, their children, like horses; you know all that arranged marriage stuff is gaining a bad reputation, right? —the son replied with frustration.

  The father let out another short laugh and answered:

  —Who said you had to get married? We only need you to plant the seed and then the girl’s family will take care of the rest and, of course, we will also get involved. Besides, don’t you want to have children?

  —Do you see? —he said, pointing his finger at his father in an inquisitive way toward Dante— They treat us like horses!

  Then the father, still smiling, asked Dante:

  —And you? Do you already have something in motion?

  —More like something in planning —he replied doubtfully— but everything depends on how today goes.

  —Ahh! I see, Nair. It’s normal to fight over a woman, although in this case I would say you’re not doing it for the same reason.

  —Of course. I mean, look at him… do you think he has material to be a boyfriend, husband, or even a man?

  —Wait a moment, what do you mean by man? I can understand the others, but where do you get that I’m not a man?

  —You’re still childish, insecure, you depend on luck, you’ve literally associated yourself with a psychopath, you don’t talk to your father, and to top it off, my dick is bigger than yours, so I can say whatever I want.

  Dante, now angry, replied:

  —Only by two centimeters, and you exaggerate everything else.

  The father, clearly entertained by the quarrel, proposed:

  —How about you settle this like men?

  —What do you mean? —said Dante.

  —A fight, here and now.

  —Go ahead —said Dante and Aghat.

  Taking advantage of the fact that it was prepared, everyone gathered in the elders’ yurta, which is large and prepared for public events, whether important meetings, special events such as celebrations or weddings and… of course, events of b?kh.

  Aghat’s father spread the word and soon the entire circle gathered to see how I was going to wipe the floor with Aghat’s face.

  After an hour, the place was full of families, children with their parents, and the most animated were the elders, who have always enjoyed this sport.

  For that reason it wasn’t only Aghat and I who were going to fight; others also wanted to participate and, after us, they would continue with the event.

  So I prepared myself: I put on the zodog (a wool jacket with the chest uncovered), the shuudag (tight, very durable cotton briefs) —mine blue and Aghat’s red— and finally the gutal (leather boots for b?kh).

  Another important element was the zasuul, who would be the coach (preferably), though more precisely the one entrusted with your ceremonial hat and who encourages you.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  That role would have been perfect for Aghat, but since the khariult was my opponent, I called and bothered Cain to take that position.

  —And why are you fighting now? Did he brag about his size again? —Cain said in a monotone, uninterested voice.

  —He did that, but that’s not the root of the problem. This time it’s something more serious —I answered while getting ready.

  When we stepped into the center of the yurta, Aghat, the other participants, and I performed the falcon dance, and well, after finishing the preparations, the event began.

  We faced each other and handed our hats to our respective zasuul; in Aghat’s case, his father.

  After the preparations, we began. The winner would be the first to achieve three takedowns.

  Aghat started aggressively. He grabbed my sleeves firmly from the shoulder and tried to throw me with a leg hook; he almost succeeded, but I reacted in time and used his momentum pushing me to spin in a spiral and free myself with the inertia of the turn.

  I didn’t waste time. I added that force to my own and, with a slight hook at his heel, I managed to score the first takedown.

  It was a rocking fall; he arched his back and, shifting his weight, Aghat used the momentum to get back on his feet quickly.

  Then we began the next round. I had one point in my favor and planned to keep winning, so this time I was the aggressive one.

  I pushed him from the shoulders alternately to disturb his balance a little and, when I felt the moment had come, I used my knee to push his to the side.

  But Aghat reacted quickly and countered by stepping back with the leg I had targeted and, with the other, slipped through my defense and hooked his foot behind my heel.

  Then a push with one hand and a pull with the other unbalanced me, and with my foot hooked he pulled strongly toward himself and managed to take me down with a diagonal fall.

  One to one. At least three rounds remained, and I was going to win the next one.

  When it started, we again grabbed each other by the shoulders and moved from side to side, waiting for one of us to make a wrong step.

  But both of us were being very careful, so I decided to attack first.

  I struck his thigh with my knee and that caused a momentary imbalance.

  Taking advantage of that opportunity, I pulled the shoulder on the same side downward and managed another takedown, making him roll sideways onto the ground.

  Aghat already seemed frustrated, not because he was losing, but because I was winning.

  In cases like this, one usually loses morale, but something Agnar taught me is that these moments can be the most decisive.

  Aghat only had one life left, and from what it looked like, he wouldn’t be able to beat me in the end.

  How wrong I was.

  As he got up, I saw how his arms tensed as he pushed himself off the ground. When he stood, he released an energetic aura as if starting again; all the fatigue that had struck him moments before disappeared. He wasn’t using magic on himself, it was anger. That possessive fury that gives someone new strength and energy for combat had manifested in Aghat, and then I knew it wouldn’t be easy anymore.

  Now in the third round, Aghat changed his grip, moving from my shoulders to my elbows, and pushing my body while trying to bend my arms with incredible strength, he began moving me around the arena as he pleased. While doing so, he looked directly into my eyes; I couldn’t help but notice his gaze, his refractive irises showing a determination greater than mine.

  Now that I think about it, Aghat is in better shape than I am and has always been stronger. I think up to this point I’ve been lucky.

  Repeatedly, he tried to make me fall by placing sudden hooks from inside my feet. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t regain control of the fight and that began to demoralize me.

  So I decided to use a bit of cunning. When he took a step, I planted my foot in front of his just as he was about to take the next one, and that managed to break his momentum. To avoid losing his balance he quickly corrected his posture, which caused him to bend his leg just enough for me to take advantage of that moment and place my foot on his knee and push it. That’s how I managed to bring him down.

  The fight ended, and I extended my hand to help him up. Somewhat unwillingly he accepted it, and once he stood up Cain approached me to give me the hat, congratulate me, and boast about my victory to the crowd. Then we stepped aside so the next match could continue.

  After a rest, changing clothes, and having something to drink, the four of us met in a yurta that served as a bar. Being the only ones there because the others were still enjoying the event, Aghat began speaking to me.

  —I still don’t understand it —he said in a tired tone— How could I lose to you so easily?

  —I made things harder for you than “Mr. Crazy Blades,” but even so you beat me. I feel like all the training and professionalism I worked so hard to develop turned out to be garbage —his voice began to sound depressed.

  In an effort to comfort him I said:

  —Don’t feel bad, after all you lost to an Akyane.

  Aghat, who was about to take a sip from his glass, froze before doing so and looked at me with indignation.

  —You’re terrible at cheering people up. You’re the lowest of your family, possibly the most fake Akyane there has ever been, but I guess it’s the best an emo like you can do, so… thanks.

  I suppose that’s an appropriate compliment for me, but if I accepted it I would be admitting he was right, and that would be a worse situation than dying, so I told him:

  —I understand, you’re just frustrated because I’m more talented than you.

  Aghat’s father raised his voice and proposed a toast:

  —Cheers! To good friends.

  Honoring his gesture, we followed him, “cheers,” and we drank our airag. I drank mine completely while the others left a small amount. After finishing, the father went back to his house and only the three of us remained.

  Then I asked my friend:

  —So, did you pass your test?

  He answered:

  —Why do you think I made you go through a test?

  —I don’t know, maybe all that about me being immature, a drunk, traumatized… and that?

  Aghat looked at him thoughtfully and asked:

  —Why the impatience with her?

  Dante aligned his head with the position of his body and began to say:

  —I don’t think it’s impatience. In reality I feel like I waited too long, or maybe it’s more that I never believed I would achieve anything and now I actually have a real chance. I mean… finding the perfect girl isn’t something common.

  “Perfect.” That word echoed in Aghat’s mind. He remembered the day Nair started living with him. She was attentive, orderly, and polite; during the following months she tried to be respectful toward him and to take care of the atmosphere. After they adapted to living together, they began to grow closer; they talked about work, goals, guys, family, hobbies; they had become very good friends.

  But Aghat could never have imagined what would happen after crossing that line. It was like the end of the world: you don’t know when it will come, but you know it is completely certain that one day it will happen, even if you are no longer in this world.

  What nobody expects is that they will live through it, but not as they imagine. Just like in the legends, the end of the world begins with small signs.

  But it wasn’t the end of the world. It was Nair.

  It began with a simple oversight: one weekend when she came back from having fun with Lorelai, she went to her room without washing the dishes, which that day had been her responsibility. Aghat thought, “Well, she must be tired; besides, nobody is perfect.” A mistake with a solution, nobody was hurt… how naive I was.

  Then came used tissues left around the house without being thrown away, she would deliberately let out a fart when Aghat was nearby, she started leaving clothes scattered around the house, she cooked simple things and then didn’t clean afterward, when Lorelai came they got drunk and made a mess, and when she had a day without obligations she threw herself onto the couch to watch movies all day, eating popcorn and dirtying the whole floor.

  She had completely settled in. That’s when I understood that this was simply how she was; all that about the “perfect Nair” from the first months had been a fa?ade. However, one day I discovered gold.

  It was already a lost case, there was nothing left to do. Feeling a little frustrated, I decided to invite Dante over to hang out. Suddenly, when I told Nair, she changed completely and, ignoring me from that instant on, turned into a search-and-destroy machine for disorder. She looked everywhere and whenever she found something out of place or a dirty corner she hurried to fix it and then boom! it exploded in my head.

  At the end of that day I told Dante he could come by the house whenever he wanted, and afterward I informed Nair about it. After that time, I never again saw the house in chaos.

  “Perfect.” Dante had been blind all this time… no, actually he never had the chance to realize it. It’s not that she always wanted to give him a perfect image of herself either, because when they met in the surguuli, when she wasn’t in the public eye, Nair showed herself to be quite lazy.

  Then I understood something: the reason I accepted that stupid deal of pretending to be with Nair, of insisting that Dante improve himself, wasn’t that I was protecting Nair from an immature and unsuitable Dante. In truth, and unconsciously, I was protecting Dante from the illusion of “perfect” Nair vanishing like smoke and revealing the horrible creature lurking beneath that lie.

  Aghat looked at Dante and, after a moment of silence, told him:

  —Look, this is very simple. If you want to get somewhere with her, first get to know each other thoroughly. After that, decide what you’ll do, alright? —he emphasized that question as if it were a word halfway between a threat and a warning.

  Dante, understanding the intention behind the question, simply nodded silently and then finished his glass.

  

  

  

  

  

  After finishing all the paperwork and with most of the personnel already ending their shift, Süld went to the safe that was inside the office and entered the code on the electronic keypad. He knew it because Agnar had told him; it wasn’t that he used the safe to store important things, but rather things he would use later and didn’t want anyone touching, like his lunch.

  Süld took out Ash’s coat, stretched it out with his arms extended, and examined the object with great concentration. He noticed that it was heavier than normal and that its dark green color did not reflect the light from any source that produced it. Its texture felt completely smooth; however, he also noticed that it seemed to have the characteristic of being waterproof.

  So it didn’t take long for him to try it on. He buttoned it properly and shook his body a little so it would settle into place. He waved his arms and moved his neck from side to side. When he finished, the suit felt a little loose; it seems Ash is a bit more robust than he appears. Even so, he had the feeling that he was armored.

  Since he liked the coat, he took his cellphone and, with the help of a cup, stood it upright on the desk and turned on the mirror camera to see how the coat looked on him. He made different poses, some funny, others intimidating, and finally some ridiculous ones, and when he turned halfway around he found Nair standing at the door.

  She had been about to knock when Süld noticed her presence. She was frozen, staring at him with her mouth open, and then he asked her:

  —What are you doing here?!

  —I just came to talk to you about something, but I see you’re busy —said Nair.

  —Hey! Don’t tell anyone, and especially not that idiot Dante —Süld asked Nair.

  —Why do you mention Dante instead of the dangerous genocidal kidnapper of Akyanes who owns that coat you’re wearing?

  —What?... meh, it doesn’t matter, I’m not afraid of the old man, I don’t think he’ll kill me for “taking care of his things.”

  —Do you think he’ll see it that way?

  —Anyway, do you want to try the coat? —he offered, tempting her like a demon.

  Nair, after looking at it for a moment, answered:

  —Of course —she accepted without resistance.

  At the shooting range were Süld and Nair; she was finishing putting on Ash’s coat. After adjusting it, it fit her very loosely, and although it belonged to a man she didn’t like, she enjoyed the feeling of looking thinner.

  Süld had taken an old carbine from the weapons storage; while loading it, he told Nair:

  —Don’t move.

  Then he aimed and fired at her stomach. Nair simply remained there motionless, with her hands behind her back and standing calmly. The bullet, upon colliding with the garment, behaved as if a rock had been thrown against a mattress.

  —It felt like someone tapped me —said Nair calmly.

  Süld, approaching her, crouched down and examined the point of impact and, as he expected, found not even a scratch.

  —Do you think that if he dies I could keep it? —said Süld while contemplating the coat.

  —If things that good happened, we would never have gotten into this mess —she replied pessimistically.

  —And what did you want to talk about? —Süld asked.

  —I wanted to know if there were any instructions available about improving my skill in magic.

  —Oh… is it because of that time with the old man, right?

  —Not only the old man, but all the ones who will come. Just think about it a little: Ash was the first, we don’t know exactly why, maybe he was the most distracted, maybe he was the closest, or in the worst case, the least dangerous.

  —Before you start connecting strings on a wall, let me clarify that at that time everything was chaos. If Mr. Abel did what he did, it was because he could, not because he had a choice. Surely Ash had been an emergency case and that’s why he ended up like that; I mean… he was breaking through the defense lines of our nation.

  —I already know that. The point is that not everything can be handled with strength alone, right? Abel was not much stronger than a large number of veteran soldiers of his time and even so he defeated many who would have wiped the floor with people far stronger —she said while walking from side to side.

  —He won because he had a method no one understood, he kept it secret and always tried to have the element of surprise on his side. If you want to find a way to reach Ash’s level, it would be more practical for you to study magic; that way you might surpass him in skill, since it’s clear that not many can do it in power.

  —I already know that, that’s why I was asking about the instruction.

  —There is no instruction that will prepare you for the level of that monster; I was serious when I told you “pick up a damn book.”

  Nair became annoyed, resigned to begin searching for a solution from scratch. She exhaled the air and with it the frustration of not having found a simple answer, so she asked:

  —I heard Dante came by here today. What was he looking for? —said Nair.

  —Agnar. Why? Did you get your hopes up? —he said mockingly.

  —No more than you with my friend.

  —I don’t understand what you see in that guy.

  —I don’t understand why you hate him.

  —How could I not hate him? —said Süld while checking the weapon — He’s unobservant, naive, insecure, and a damn traumatized mess. He should be ashamed of being called an Akyane, and besides, after that night… when he drank so much and you know.

  —No one wants to remember that, not even her, and I think more than hating him, you seem to envy him.

  —What do you mean by that? —said Süld angrily.

  —When you first met I don’t remember you getting along badly. After you found out he didn’t choose to join Agnar you stopped talking to him, and later you started getting along badly. Now that he’s inside the circle, it seems to bother you that he has been well received —she said.

  —It bothers me? Of course it bothers me! —he expressed with anger — While he had everyone’s support, I started from the bottom. I worked, trained, studied, improved, and even so I feel like I still haven’t gained the esteem he has now, especially Agnar’s —he exclaimed melancholically.

  —I think you’re underestimating yourself. I won’t deny that Dante has some support, but it’s not as easy for him as you think. Leaving that aside for a moment, it’s also clear that you underestimate yourself quite a lot. Just look at you… you are Jagun, and since Pul and Agnar are outside, they trusted you to take care of everything here while they supervise the madman —Nair encouraged Süld.

  —Ahh… (sigh) anyway, since we’re already at this, do you want to see the rest of the old man’s things? —with his mood somewhat improved, Süld proposed.

  —I don’t see why not.

  

  Chocolate is love.