In Jodie's opinion, Lincoln would rather watch someone who needed his help die. He'd then scurry off once he was sure he wouldn't be in danger—a true rat. The title "Slum Rat" probably didn't fit anyone better than it did him.

So as she chased Hector, ducking through swords and ramming through enemies, a thought occurred to her.

Perhaps she would have to be the moral guide for Hector. She already served that function in a way. She'd hoped Emela would be the woman of reason within their little group as well, but she was a noble.

While she didn't dislike Emela because of it, that didn't change the fact that she'd grown up in a certain type of environment. So she no doubt held biases that Jodie wouldn't.

Ducking to the side, Jodie grabbed the wrist of the man who'd just attacked her. He went wide-eyed, obviously not expecting her to react so quickly. And then her fist slammed forward, crunching into his nose and sending him staggering back.

A crisp kick to the side of his head sent the man sprawling across the hallway carpet. He wasn't that weak, but with her partial battle intent—which she'd recently gotten the hang of—activated, people like this were nothing but a joke.

"Jodie!" Hector demanded from up front, and she knew exactly what to do.

He'd given her this Talent recently, and it would be more than useful for this situation. Pulling on the sensation in the back of her mind, her blood burning with fire, she raised her arm. Then, feeling for the area she wished to wall off, she squeezed, and the world reacted.

Fire erupted in a wall of flame before her, cutting the entire hallway clean in half. Eileen's team staggered back, a few of them injured, gripping their sides. The mercenaries the noble had hired fled backwards, staring at the fire in shock.

Jodie charged forward and leapt through the flames, soaring so high the flickers of fire could barely lick her sandals. Landing with a muffled thud, she scanned the retreating mercenaries. A few looked at her with fear, while others focused on Hector, who was tearing through their ranks.

From her side, a sword rushed towards her, and she reacted on instinct. Her nails elongated into vicious claws that she'd taken from a wolf mana beast they'd fought earlier, meeting the blade in a spark of light.

Clutching it, she wrenched it free from the man's grip. And as he stumbled towards her, she slammed her fist into his gut.

The impact bent him at the waist, and she whipped her knee up, cracking into his jaw.

With a sickening crunch, it shattered, and she watched as he slumped to the floor. She hadn't killed him. But maybe that was a bit too much force.

Another man charged at her from the side, this time accompanied by a shorter woman. Two. She'd have to be a bit more brutal; this pair could cause her some trouble.

Her other hand extended into vicious claws, and she levelled her hands at her opponents. Sure, she could use her sword, but this gave her a bit more control. She didn't want to kill people after all.

Diving towards them, she slashed at the man. He blocked with his sword, his ally coming from the side and unleashing a flurry of slashes. Jodie deflected most of them with her claws and then gripped the man's wrist, throwing him into the girl.

The two tumbled, and she was on them in an instant. Her fist slammed into his jaw, knocking him unconscious, and then she reached out—unintentionally, but far too quickly.

Her claws bit into the girl's neck. She tried to wrench them back without doing further damage, but it was too late.

As soon as she loosened her grip, the woman's blood began gushing from her throat, and she clutched at the wound.

Jodie staggered back, taking deep breaths, her throat becoming tighter.

"Jodie!" Hector screamed from up front, and then something slammed into her back, knocking her to the ground.

Jodie rolled even before she processed what had happened, flipping onto her back as the man raised his sword in the air. Her eyes widened, claws extending. Then a spear exploded through his chest, blood splattering onto her cheeks.

It then wrenched back, and the man let out a gasp, dropping his sword to the ground. She scrambled to her feet.

Behind him, Lincoln stood with a grin, as if he'd secured a brilliant victory.

"Consider yourself lucky," he said, twirling his spear and slamming the man in the back of the head with the butt of it, dropping him. He then turned, rushing off to the side to engage another.

But wasn't he supposed to be protecting Marcus? And also, what was this? Every time they encountered a monster, the boy would scramble off, as if his life were in imminent danger at the mere sight of one. But now he was fighting?

Heaving, her gaze moved from him—she could deal with that later—and then rested on the noble at the back. Even now, the look of intrigue and disgust hadn't faded.

She'd seen it earlier, and it made her want to punch him in the face. The man stalked over to an injured mercenary a few steps from him, slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out a bottle. Then with a slight pop, uncorked it.

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Dropping to his knees in front of the injured man, the noble brought a hand under his head and poured the contents of the bottle down his throat. The man gulped once, his throat bulging, and then swallowed.

Such tenderness. Jodie didn't think a noble could show something like that. She stepped forward, making her way towards him, but a rough-looking man stepped up, blocking her path and levelling a sword at her.

"You'd better step back now, you hear?" he grumbled, sounding more like talking gravel than an actual human.

She didn't want to hurt him, didn't want to have him end up the same way the girl had before. So she retracted her claws, lowered a hand, and reached for the sword at her waist. It slid free with a soft screech.

"Move." A simple word, though the man probably wouldn't obey. They never did.

Predictably, he rushed forward, raising his sword high. She went low, stepping past his first swing and slamming into his gut with the butt of her blade. As he keeled over, she slammed the butt into his chin.

He staggered back, but didn't go down, his eyes refocusing on her as he slashed towards her again. She raised her sword to block it, and the force knocked her to the side. This was a strong one.

She stumbled to a stop, reaching for the power within her. It coursed through her veins as clarity took over her. She charged again, swiping left and right. The man ducked the first and blocked the second with a grind of steel.

Before he could parry again, she raised her foot and whipped it towards his head. He caught it with a hand and wrenched her forward, throwing her to the side.

As she flew back, she spun, her feet grinding across the carpet. She halted, then charged in with a ferocious roar, bringing the blade down hard. They met in a spark of steel.

She needed to end this.

The claws raced free from her fingertips, and she thrust a hand forward. The man reached up to grab her wrist, but her claws sliced through his hand with ease.

He stepped back with a scream, and her sword pressed forward, biting into his shoulder. Before the blade could go too deep, she stepped back, raised her foot, and shoved him back with a hard kick. He dropped to the ground, clutching his shredded hand and cursing.

She spared him a glance, then moved her gaze back to the noble. The man he had fed the potion to was now back on his feet, looking rather rejuvenated. He then picked up his sword and rushed back in, charging at Hector, but Jodie raced forward to meet him instead.

Raising her sword, she slashed at his waist. The hit connected, but the man seemed far too eager, as if the wound meant nothing to him. With the potion the noble was using, the man probably thought that was the case.

She raised her sword overhead, blocking his downward strike, spun, appeared at his back, and clubbed the butt of her blade into his neck. He dropped like a sack of potatoes, and she spun around.

The noble was already on the run, Hector racing behind him, though the noble was far too slow. Hector reached him in seconds, dealing a severe blow to the back of his head and dropping him onto the red carpet, inches before the obsidian door.

Had he been thinking of running through it, there was no way it would have opened before Hector caught him. A hopeful fantasy by the noble, perhaps.

Jodie let out a breath, standing amidst the fallen bodies and the groaning. Then, a voice reached her ears.

"Well, that was more eventful than I thought. Very different from fighting beasts that could literally tear you limb from limb. Gotta say, I prefer this."

She rolled her eyes and then turned to Lincoln. "What game are you playing?"

—- —- —- —-

The unconscious noble lay sprawled on the red carpet. Hector retracted the static field, the tiny snakes of electricity sinking beneath his skin. He let out a sigh.

The fight in itself hadn't been too difficult. Why would it? He had every advantage compared to these mercenaries. Their cultivation was barely higher than his, and they had no Talents. Even the man—the Zulen noble on the floor—was of little challenge.

Behind Hector, the bickering of Lincoln and Jodie caught his ear. He turned his head to face them. Jodie had grabbed Lincoln by the shoulder and was currently throttling him.

"Why would you do that? Leaving Marcus alone? Something could have happened to him? Are you crazy or something? You were told to stay there."

Lincoln, obviously not taking her tone well, shoved her back and stepped away. "I saved you," he said, jabbing a finger towards her. He rested his spear on his shoulder and shook his head. "What, not a thank you for that? I mean, come on, Jodie, there's only so rude you can be."

The red-haired girl narrowed her eyes at him and adjusted her mask. She then turned to Hector. "Are you hearing this? He left Marcus by himself."

Hector blinked. The boy in question stood at the entrance to the room they'd all just left, his hands gripping his backpack straps tightly.

He didn't seem scared, but that didn't change the fact that Jodie was right. More to the point, though, what was Lincoln doing here?

So far in every fight they'd had, he'd run and cowered behind a wall, fearful. And probably hoping the creatures didn't notice him. But maybe that was it.

Fighting something that could tear his head off and that he couldn't communicate with—maybe that was too much of an unknown for him. Something that Lincoln would rather avoid.

Hector turned his gaze away from the two.

"Hector!" Jodie yelled, her footsteps echoing off the carpet as she made her way over.

He dropped to a knee and grabbed the noble by his collar. He then yanked him up and threw him over his shoulder, turning to Jodie as he got to his feet. "What?" He shrugged.

"Are you not going to say anything?"

Lincoln stood a step behind her, sheepishly lowering his head to the red carpet, not meeting Hector's eyes. Though Hector couldn't find it within himself to criticise Lincoln in this moment.

Because Lincoln was also right. Hector had glimpsed what had happened earlier. Jodie had been reckless, and she'd been hesitant. That hesitation had almost gotten her killed. He would have made his way over but caught sight of Lincoln's movements, even as Jodie hit the ground.

He shook his head. "We'll talk about it later."

Turning, the firewall that Jodie had set up petered out. That Talent was good for separating two sides of a conflict, but it had more uses than that.

And Hector had found it a fitting Talent to give Jodie. The girl had a fire-based affinity, so the Talent added to her arsenal as well.

Stepping past her, he adjusted the unconscious noble on his shoulder. Around them, bodies of mercenaries lay on the ground.

One man in particular, hand ruined, sobbed as blood continued to spill from his wound. The man had fought Jodie and lost a hand for it. The girl Jodie had gripped by the throat lay still.

Hector glanced from her back to his friend. "You killed her?"

Jodie's eyes went wide, her face probably going pale behind her mask. "It was an accident," she said, voice small, head lowering to the carpet.

Hector said nothing. What could he say? She didn't want to hurt anyone, but as a cultivator, that was almost unavoidable. They wanted to kill her, and she was lucky to be alive with the mercy she'd shown. She'd learn eventually, or she'd suffer the price.

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