Running should have been option number one. Insulting the idiot was one thing, but actually fighting him might leave him dead in a ditch somewhere. Unfortunately, Goon One flashed him a crooked grin as he took on what looked like a sumo stance. Apparently, whatever business the Rillon family ran, it did not provide dental for their henchmen. The few teeth remaining in his mouth were on the brown side of yellowing. The ground beneath Greg shook as he slapped his thighs twice then threw his arms into the air with a battle cry. Flagstones underfoot splintered, and Greg was just fast enough to dodge a spike of earth that shot up behind him, blocking the entrance to the alley.

  His sudden movement sent him forward into Horatio, who pinballed him toward Goon Two’s open arms. Greg ducked and spun, pulling Light Drinker from its scabbard and swiping at the back of the brute’s legs as he rose behind him. The wound wasn’t deep enough to make any lasting damage, but shallow wounds in the right spot could leave even the biggest meathead stumbling.

  That would prove to not be the case in this instance. The spike that blocked his initial retreat crumbled, only for another to shoot from the ground right beneath his feet. Greg stumbled forward, narrowly avoiding being impaled, only to be scooped up by the throat.

  Horatio let out a snide laugh, but Greg drug his blade up and down Goon Two’s forearm with as many quick alternating flame and radiant strikes as he could muster. Lines of deep purple blood trickled from the wounds, pooling beneath them as the thug let him go with a yelp. He was backpedaling away from them before his feet even hit the ground.

  Vibrant golden mist wafted from Horatio’s palms, coating the damaged goon’s skin and sealing the wounds he’d caused. “Get him!” Horatio ordered the other goon two.

  Goon One jumped with enough force to shake the ground beneath them, landing equally hard behind him. Goon Two, purple blood still darkening his skin, stalked forward, rubbing at his now woundless forearms.

  Healers were a thing. And Horatio, of all people, was one of them. This did not bode well. Thinking about his meters, they enlarged slightly for him to examine.

  Volatility: 16 of 100

  Divine Resonance: 8 of 100

  Demonic Resonance: 9 of 100

  “Seven more strikes to port. I wouldn’t count on one step to get you out of this, though.” Isabella sounded worried, which did not make him feel any better about it.

  Greg dashed to the side as Goon One lunged at him from behind. The street they fought in wasn’t large, perhaps twice the size of the alley he’d been walking through, but it was enough that if he could create space he was confident he could keep the thugs from getting their hands on him. He found out quickly that healing wasn’t the only trick up their sleeves.

  Horatio’s only movement was occasionally rotating to keep Greg in his line of sight. He hadn’t recognized it immediately, as he was trying not to be squashed like a bug, but he was chanting something in a language that his UI could not decipher. Isabella could.

  “Attack him! Now!”

  Greg leapt forward only to freeze in midair. Tendrils of light emitted from Horatio’s fingertips, wrapping around his arms, legs, and torso. A box popped up where his Ruin Edict buff usually populated, this one outlined in bright red with a little face with swirls for eyes. The timer was going down rapidly, but that wouldn’t be enough.

  Arms of steel wrapped around his shoulders like a vice and squeezed. Never in his life had Greg ever felt so much like a tube of toothpaste. As the stun debuff faded, he spun Light Drinker in his palm and started to stab wildly backwards at the man. Pressure was building in his head, and his lungs clung to precious gulps of air.

  Four solid strikes.

  Five.

  Goon One sunk the earth spike back into the ground and flew at him, landing a rib cracking strike. The rapier fell from his grasp as the last of the air he’d held burst from his lips in a cry. He wasn’t going to be popped like a pimple between some warehouses. Not today.

  Greg threw his head back, smashing the back of his skull into Goon Two’s face with a Flame Strike. He didn’t let go, but leaned back enough that Greg could land a kick to the side of Goon One’s head, laying radiant resonance into it.

  “Now!” Isabella barked.

  Greg’s vision cleared enough for him to pick his spot.

  “Huh?” Goon Two let out a confused grunt.

  It would take a few seconds for Light Drinker to reappear in its scabbard, but those were precious seconds he didn’t have. Greg reappeared a step behind Horatio and sunk his fingers into his slicked back silver hair to hold him still. His increased dexterity made it simple to pull his head back and start wailing on the nasally little shit. Before the goons even realized what was happening, he’d hit him enough times to build up to the Volatile Step threshold again.

  He thrust Horatio forward with the hand buried in his greasy scalp. As the titanblood recovered, he lifted his hands, fingers curled into a circle with a sparking ball of light within. He didn’t want anything to do with whatever that was, so Greg made one final strike. With a quick lunge, Greg brought his shin up between Horatio’s legs as hard as he could.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “Hnnnng!” His hands dropped, cupping his groin.

  “Cup up next time, bud.” Greg glanced down to make sure Light Bringer had reappeared in his scabbard before turning to run. Heading toward the ocean, he took the first turn, then every other turn after that. Isabella had taken it upon herself to pull up the minimap feature of his UI that he rarely utilized as he ran. Three white dots appeared nearby, two stationary and one chasing after him.

  A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed what the map indicated. Hundreds of pounds of mindless muscle was gaining on him. He had enough volatility built up for one more step, but what were the chances Goon Two was dumb enough to fall for the same trick twice?

  “Any suggestions?” Greg growled out the question as he took a quick turn onto a more populated street, hoping that would dissuade his pursuer.

  It did not.

  The goliath barreled around the corner and through a group of dockworkers carrying a crate before clocking him and continuing the chase.

  “Keep running. If you don’t tire him out, you’ll isolate him. Then you can turn and fight.”

  Were he not mid-sprint, he would have fallen over laughing. Fight this brute? He’d almost squeezed him to death just minutes ago. Just keep running. Maybe if he got far enough away, he’d give up and go back to find Horatio.

  After darting around the first set of dockworkers, Greg checked over his shoulder again. The other two dots had long faded from the map, but Goon Two was still right on him. In that brief moment, the titanblood blew through the group he’d gone around and was putting something in his mouth. He looked forward again in time to do a fanciful bit of parkour over a stack of crates that his pursuer simply ran through like they didn’t exist, but this time something was different. Blue mist puffed from his mouth with each exhale.

  He glanced at his meters—

  Divine Resonance 25 of 100

  Demonic Resonance 22 of 100

  Volatility 31 of 100

  then teleported onto the closest rooftop. Maybe he should have considered the people who could have gotten hurt by leaving them down there with the brute. Before he could start regretting his decision, the rooftop shook as the goon landed behind him, still sprinting in his direction.

  “You’re not going to be able to outrun him. Find a spot that’s to your advantage and fight.”

  He let out a tiny whine before leaping from one rooftop to the next. What advantage did he have? Whatever this idiot put in his mouth was juicing him up like the guy Seraphae was chasing. He should have asked her more questions about it. At least it wasn’t the earth spike goon. Little wins.

  Greg led Goon Two away from the docks, out into the industrial ring of Rhobair. He lept from one roof to the next until the next building was several stories taller. He jumped anyway, hitting the smooth metal building hard, sliding down a few feet then dropping to the pavement below. Running out into a large loading area between three buildings, Greg slowed and took in his surroundings.

  The building in the center appeared to be some kind of smithy. A helior, the massive lionfolk, and a lizardkin were working a forge within, but had stopped at the commotion. The right building was a warehouse. The enormous doors were open, and people were still coming in and out on foot and on the enchanted forklifts. To the left was what looked to him like a messhall. Lines of tables led to deli style glass cabinets at the end with several workers behind them.

  There was no shortage of obstacles dotting the loading area he’d finally stopped and turned around in. It wasn’t ideal all these people were going to watch him get pummeled into oblivion, but there was probably not a better spot for him to pick. Goon Two jumped off the building, hitting the warehouse wall with dent causing speed, and slid down. He stalked toward Greg, bright blue breaths heaving from his nose and mouth.

  His muscles bulged unnaturally as he got closer, his grin matching that of Goon One’s when it came to dental hygiene. Before what would be an inevitable attack, Greg took the chance to scan him.

  Scanning…

  Miles Yannok-Rillon

  Level 4 Barbarian

  Strength: 18 (+9)

  Dexterity: 10 (+5)

  Constitution: 24 (+12)

  Wisdom: 4 (-2)

  Intelligence: 4(-2)

  Luck: 1

  Unknown buff affecting stats

  Unknown buff applying healing effects

  Unknown buff applying stamina regeneration effects

  “Gods divine, he’s dumber than you.” Isabella muttered.

  “Always so helpful.” Greg lifted Light Drinker from its scabbard and tried to calm himself with a couple of slow, deep breaths. “Any more sage advice?”

  “Use the environment to your advantage. Whatever he took is making him faster and stronger, but it’s also making him dumb as rocks. Fight smarter. You can do this.”

  Goon Two rushed him, his arms raised in the air, and a massive onyx axe with double blades designed as dragon’s wings materialized in his grip. Greg dashed to the side as it came down and dug into the pavement with an earsplitting sound somewhere between a crack and a screech. Understanding the need to capitalize on every moment, he sliced at each ankle and the back of the knees. A waft of blue mist spread from each cut instead of the blood he’d expected as Miles ripped the axe from the ground and took a wild horizontal swing.

  At a safe distance, a crowd had gathered, watching the two of them in the delicate dance. As long as whatever buff affecting him was ongoing, all but a fatal strike would be ineffective. In the same vein, Miles had fallen into such a mindless rage that Greg simply guided him around the area, making divots in the ground with the impossibly massive axe.

  Greg did his best to keep the fight contained within the open area between the three buildings. He’d volatile step on top of an abandoned crate near the warehouse, dodge a blow from the axe that left it in splinters, dot Miles with a few quick jabs, and then do it all over again.

  While the generous usage of his volatile step was keeping the volatility gauge sated below thirty, his resonance had never climbed so high.

  Divine Resonance eclipsed 50%

  Demonic Resonance eclipsed 50%

  “Greg,” Isabella’s worried voice reverberated in his mind. “You should really consider using your Ruin Edict.”

  It wasn’t time yet. There was no going back once he activated it, and right now it would not last long enough. The warning was not without merit, however. As the resonance climbed with each quick strike, the power built. Each step was more precise, each stab more powerful. The panic faded from his movements, leaving nothing but cold calculation. The blood in his veins grew hotter and hotter, even as his flesh was cold as ice.

  The fight continued, but his opponent was starting to lose steam. The blue puffs shooting from his nose and mouth with each breath grew lighter as the buff was forced to deal with ever-increasing wounds. Isabella was yelling at him, but he’d sequestered her to a quiet part of his mind.

  Divine Resonance eclipsed 75%

  Demonic Resonance eclipsed 75%

  All that mattered now was retribution.

  All that mattered now was punishment.