There are no consequences. That is the great lie they tell in the civilised places. "Just hold on," they say. "Just wait," they plead.

It's a lie.

Tragedies happen ceaselessly – I have committed a share of them myself – and the only ones who are punished for those atrocities are their victims. Karma seldom rears her beautiful head, and even when she does, I have found her far more accommodating to me than my enemies.

But sometimes, very occasionally, the stars and the moon conspire to plant a seed on our land that blooms just right, and one of us will face justice for our many crimes.

I watch, and I see, and I find myself hoping that one day, if I just wait long enough, perhaps I too will live to see the consequences of my life. What a glorious day that will be.

- Extract from 'Musings and muse – a journal of my final years', written by Warlord Galacia in the 2nd

I drove my forehead into his nose, feeling a crunch as bone crushed cartilage. He staggered back and I moved with him, tripping him even as I hit him in the chest with my shoulder.

Fighting another human, especially one empowered and enhanced in the same way I was, had once been a daunting prospect. But power flowed through my veins now. I was halfway through the 1st tier, and I'd spent months fighting for my life and weeks training hard every day with masters of their respective crafts. It just so happened that those crafts were ones of war.

As their leader fell to the ground, the two thugs still on their feet launched forwards. I may not have found them particularly impressive when under the influence of the leader's aura, but they weren't stupid, and they rushed me together as soon as I started moving.

I covered my head with one arm to ward off a looping punch from the man on my right and let my momentum carry me into the one on the left, cudgel sheathed at his belt. It's one thing to throw punches at a man, and another entirely to find him careening right at you, and I watched the thug's eyes widen as I hit him, both us staggering in a tangle of limbs.

My superior attributes showed their worth as I wrapped my arms around his chest beneath the armpits, and with a heave and a spin, I hurled him behind me. I caught a glimpse of comical surprise on his face as he flew through the air before smashing into the grey-haired leader who had regained his feet and leapt after me. I had a moment to wonder if my Improvised Weapons sub-Skill helped in that process, and if so, whether that meant the well-dressed thug counted as a weapon for me in the moment.

There was no time to delve into it though, because the leader was barely inconvenienced, the thug having bounced of his wiry frame like a sack of flour against a brick wall. I used the spare seconds to good effect though, rushing to the other thug with the staff on his back. He seemed ready for me, lunging forwards with another looping punch. It was slow but based on his frame they looked to carry significant power.

It were also predictable though, and I slipped his strike to enter his guard, slamming an elbow into his face and then, when he backed away clutching his nose, I kicked him in the chest as I hard as I could. He landed among the broken remains of the fruit stand, produce squishing beneath his hefty frame. The way he clutched his side made it unlikely he would be getting up any time soon.

Something hit me in the back, and I went down. A heavy, sweaty form sprawled atop me, and I rolled and bucked around until I managed to get myself on top. He was probably the better grappler, based on the way he used his limbs to wrap me up like a spider, but I had strength far surpassing his, and I broke his hold with a few heavy yanks. I looked down into the red, angry face of the thug that Nathlan had taken out at the start of all of this, and a couple of brutal strikes to the face had his head lolling back against the dusty rock of the street.

I rolled to my feet again and took my bearings. Three of the thugs were down and not looking to get back up any time soon, but I had turned my back on the real danger. By all rights, I should have been stomped to unconsciousness before I'd had a chance to finish my final opponent, and I might well have been if it wasn't for Nathlan.

It wasn't entirely a surprise though. I knew Indomitable Prey was special – 'pathbound' they'd called it – and that normally, an aura Skill took either significant concentration or high amounts of mana to keep active. Vera's was mana-intensive, although somewhat offset by the nature of her other Skills, and Nathlan's was similar to a spell, requiring active concentration and not something he could keep running while fighting. I had no clue how Jorge's aura Skill worked, but trying to divine his secrets was as hopeless as peering into a muddy pond after falling in.

The point though, was that this older man had been keeping Nathlan suppressed via his aura Skill, and he likely wouldn't be able to continue to do so for long, either running out of mana, or hopefully, losing concentration due to my attack. And while it certainly was one hell of a shitty plan to have when getting into a violent street fight with unknown criminals in a strange city, it did actually survive contact with the enemy.

I saw Nathlan locked in a whirlwind exchange of strikes with the leader of the group, and I couldn't tell who had the upper hand. I had felt the power of our opponent when we locked up at the start of the fight, but even that brief exchange was enough to determine he had a strength attribute similar to my own.

That meant Nathlan was at a fairly significant attribute disadvantage, being so early in his new class, but he managed to bridge the gap through sheer skill. Much like when he fought with a blade, his footwork was impeccable, and he kept the distance between them even as he dodged and weaved away from the vicious looping kicks and straight punches thrown by the old man.

I knew Nathlan could stand and trade blows with those who should sit far above him, due to his long reach and clinical approach that baited out an opponent and punished them when they made the smallest mistake. I had been on the receiving end of one of his cleverly disguised fake-outs on more than one occasion. But I also knew that he wasn't a well-rounded fighter.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Given that his primary weapon was a straight double-edged blade, he didn't need to worry about his reach being negated, as he could use the weapon even in tight quarters. As such, while he trained without weapons for the sake of completeness – and because Jorge demanded at least modest competence in all areas of fighting from those he trained – he wasn't a particularly proficient unarmed fighter when all was considered.

Nathlan lacked a passion and talent for grappling and wrestling, and as such tried to keep the older man at a distance, punishing his attempts at closing the ground between them with heavy, accurate strikes. The older man was clearly a competent fighter though, and seemed to sense this strategy for what it was – an attempt to conceal a weakness. Even as I moved towards them, I watched as the grey-haired man shot in for Nathlan's legs. He was rebuffed both times but had used the second attempt to land a nasty over the head elbow strike that landed cleanly and left Nathlan reeling.

I disregarded my attempt to find a good opportunity to end the fight cleanly, and instead launched forwards in a bullrush, wrapping my arms around the shorter man and allowing him to throw me to the ground.

I needed him away from Nathlan, where their uneven attributes could spell disaster for my friend, just as I had so swiftly taken out the others. I did not trust the compassion of this man with his arrogant smirk and domineering aura, and would rather take a few blows from him myself than let Nathlan suffer the same. My endurance was impressive, and I had faith that I'd survived worse.

It made sense in the moment when I'd made the decision to become a human shield, but as soon as I felt the hammer blows of his fists against my back, I had to reconsider. I felt something in my ribcage give with his fourth or fifth blow, all delivered within a few heartbeats, and knew my initial estimates were off. Perhaps I was wrong about his strength attribute, or perhaps he had some Skill active to enhance the effect of his punches. All I really knew was that I couldn't take many more of them, especially not in a sensitive area.

Resisting the natural urge to turtle up, I instead stretched my body out in a straight line and then crunched up like a shrimp. The move allowed me to twist to the side, pushing myself out from underneath his body. Once again relying on the training I'd received from Jorge, I used the space created by that move to spring off the ground and wrap around his back, letting my full weight drive him into the floor and trying to worm my arms under and around his neck. He tucked his chin and fought me the whole way, trying to buck me off and roll away.

It only sealed his fate though, as my legs kept me secured to his back, and now that my own back was to the floor, I could keep him in the air where he struggled to get any purchase to push off. I wrapped my heels around his abdomen and straightened him out, going for a choke.

It was a desperate, painful struggle, as opposed to the clean motions I had practiced while sparring with the others. He managed to crack his head into my nose at one point and I felt my own blood being smeared around my face by his near-silver hair. I could hardly complain though, considering what I'd done to him at the start of the fight.

Bruises formed on my ribs from where he hammered at me, trying to weaken my grip, but he couldn't get a good angle and could only spare a single arm, his other still desperately clawing at my forearm where it squeezed his neck.

Like a fish stranded on land, he flopped and wriggled for a surprising amount of time in my grip, but in the end, his battle for air was just as unwinnable. His endurance couldn't match up to mine, and once this became clear, he overextended in his panic, allowing my grip to firm. A quick crank of my arm and the arteries in his neck were pressured, and a few moments later his head hung limp at my shoulder.

I waited a few heartbeats longer before rolling over and staggering to my feet. Blood dripped from my chin, my shoulders heaved as I drew in great lungfuls of air and sweat and dirt had smeared across my arms and face.

Nathlan looked across at me; calm, composed and clean. He had the three men we'd dispatched earlier face down on the floor, hands behind their backs in a clear display of submission. He raised one delicate eyebrow at me, not a hair out of place, and I barked out a laugh.

"If I wasn't so tired, I'd punch you right in the face," I said, spitting blood to the side.

He cracked a grin at me and gestured to the men lying on the ground, who all simultaneously cringed back at the movement. He leaned down towards the most coherent of them as he spoke, carefully enunciating his words in that typical scholar's dialect I'd come to expect from him.

"Get your leader, take him back to wherever you came from, and tell whoever is in charge to leave whatever issue they have in the dust. We'll be reporting this to the guards, so if we bump into you again, we'll be using our weapons, not our fists."

He paused for a beat; "You don't want that."

It was surprisingly intimidating if I was being honest, and the man on the receiving end seemed to agree. A frantic nod and then he was carefully up and corralling his companions into dragging away the older man.

"Wait," I called, and the men stilled with the limp body of their leader half off the ground. I walked over and grabbed the ornate spear still strapped to the man's back. He had no complaints, pale face spattered by blood from his broken nose, head lolling back against his companions – still unconscious from where I'd choked the air from him moments before.

I grabbed the red tassel and unwrapped it from the haft, pocketing it and stepping away with a cheery wave to the battered thugs. "Alright, off you go."

As the thoroughly beaten group beat a hasty retreat, I considered our abysmal attempt at keeping a low profile. While Nathlan had so confidently proclaimed our intention to alert the guards, I was pretty sure he had no idea how that would actually work, or if they'd even care.

I wiped my face down with the outside of the rag I was using to sheath my spear-tip and turned back to the store, just in time to see Sally scurrying away down an alleyway. Nathlan made to shout after her, but I waved him off.

We might be confident in defending ourselves from retaliation, but that didn't mean she wanted to be associated with us as anything more than random customers. If these men returned and saw us treating with her so soon, they may try and extract revenge on her. It was often the way of petty men to strike out at those weaker than them, especially once they had been humiliated by those stronger.

"We'll come back tomorrow, let her have a day off," I said, as we turned and began the short stroll back to the inn. "We'll need to discuss this with Jorge. With hindsight, it might not have been the best idea."

Nathlan looked over sharply at me, and I raised my hands in supplication. "I know, I know, it's my fault. But I wasn't about to let some old bastard hand out beatings to strangers in front of me, and certainly not friends."

Nathlan sighed. "To which I am grateful, Lamb. I would prefer not to have to rely on the good grace of companions, but while I still must, I am glad you intervened."

I smiled. "Not for long, don't worry. You'll be kicking my ass soon enough."

"One can only hope," Nathlan replied with a smile of his own. "I will make sure to blame you for this when Jorge asks, though."

"Bastard!" I cried with mock outrage before my own smile turned sly. "Still, maybe you can waggle your eyebrows and get us some extra cheese tonight, hey?"

I dodged to the side before I'd finished speaking, aiming to avoid a playful jab from Nathlan that I knew would be coming. He remained the master of distance management though, and his fist managed to find my arm anyway as we traipsed back through the canyon city to our inn.

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