The air was a thick slurry of mercury vapor and ozone. Behind Vane, the Mercury Hydra let out a sound like grinding tectonic plates as it slammed a secondary head into the basin. It missed Captain Kaelen by a mere foot. The impact sent a fresh wave of silver liquid into the air. It rained down on the clearing like molten lead. Vane did not look back. His world had narrowed to the three men standing before him in the mud.

Sir Marcus and Sir Thorne had finally found their feet. They shook off the disorientation of the resonant chime and stepped in front of Gareth. Their silver shields overlapped in a classic Imperial defensive wedge. They were trained Knights of the Third Division. Even in the middle of a Grade 4 nightmare, their instincts were to protect the highest ranking officer.

"Keep the formation!" Thorne shouted. His voice was muffled by his visor, but the authority was clear. "He's just one man. Circle him!"

Vane watched them move. He felt a cold, distant appreciation for their discipline. If he had been any other Sentinel, he would have been dead already. Three trained Rank 4s coordinating their mana was a force that could level a small village. But they were not fighting a standard mage. They were fighting a man who viewed their silver plate as nothing more than a thin skin waiting to be peeled.

Vane did not wait for them to close the circle. He initiated the Argent Horizon.

His movements shifted. The predatory, fluid grace of the combat art took hold. It made his dark leathers look like a blur against the grey trees. He did not just run. He flowed. He used Spiral Circulation, vortexing his mana through his marrow to create a frictionless hum around his spear. This was the "cooling system" Senna had beaten into his bones. It was the only thing allowing his channels to survive the presence of the SS-Rank Authority.

He aimed for Marcus, the Low Sentinel. Marcus reacted instantly. He brought his shield up and prepared a Shield Bash. The air in front of the shield distorted with mana reinforcement. It was a physical wall of force designed to stun anyone who touched it.

Vane did not stop. He did not parry. He activated the Silver Fang.

A matte, silent, liquid silver mana coated the tip of his spear. It did not hum or glow brightly. It simply existed as a law of rejection. As Vane lunged, the star metal tip met the mana reinforced shield. Under normal laws of physics, the spear should have deflected. Instead, the Silver Fang told reality that the shield was already cut. The tip slid through the enchanted silver as if it were soft butter. The conceptual weight of the strike erased the resistance of the metal.

Marcus let out a grunt of shock. His defense offered zero resistance. He tried to pull back, but Vane was faster. He transitioned into the 1st Form: Quicksilver Thrust. The spear blurred. It moved with a supersonic speed that defied the heavy atmosphere of the groves. Vane used the rotational energy of his hum to "throw" the spear forward. He guided the point into the gap between the Knight's helmet and his gorget.

"Marcus, move!" Thorne roared.

Thorne threw himself forward. He activated his Iron Wall. A shimmering, translucent barrier of mana erupted between Vane and Marcus. It was a Grade C skill. It was the peak of what a Sentinel without an Authority could manifest.

Vane's spear struck the Iron Wall. The silver light of the Silver Fang pulsed. The wall did not crack or shatter. It simply ceased to exist in the path of the spear. The Silver Fang ignored the mana barrier entirely. The tip continued its path toward Marcus's throat.

Marcus barely managed to jerk his head back. The spear tip carved a deep, jagged line across the side of his helmet. It sheared away the silver plating and exposed the terrified man's eye. Blood began to spray. It mixed with the mercury rain.

Vane was already moving again. He spun the spear to catch a strike from Thorne. Thorne was a Mid Sentinel with a heavy, grounded style. His broadsword came down in a vertical arc. It was intended to cleave Vane in two.

Vane caught the blade on the shaft. He utilized the 2nd Form: Lunar Deflection. He did not try to absorb the force. He used the frictionless mana sleeve around his spear to change the broadsword's vector. The heavy blade skidded off the spear with a screeching sound. It buried itself in the mud. Vane felt a jolt of pain through his cracked ribs. It was a sharp reminder of Varkas's earlier hit.

"Now!" Gareth yelled.

Gareth swung his sword. He unleashed his Radiant Arc. A crescent of golden, searing light tore through the air. It left a trail of scorched ozone.

Vane could not dodge. Thorne was pressing him. The Knight was using his weight to lock the spear in place. Vane let go of the shaft with his left hand. He reached into a pool of liquid mercury at his feet. He utilized Argent Lash.

He did not manifest a whip of mana. He used the Silver Fang to seize the liquid mercury itself. The silver liquid rose. It formed a shimmering ribbon that Vane whipped into the path of the Radiant Arc. The two forces collided. The mercury vaporized instantly. It created a localized, blinding explosion of silver steam. The Radiant Arc was deflected by the sudden thermal expansion. The golden crescent veered off. It sheared the top off a nearby iron tree.

"What?" Gareth stammered. His eyes widened through the steam.

Vane used the distraction to kick Thorne in the chest. The impact was reinforced by his Sentinel rank physical stats. It broke the Knight's balance on the slippery ground. Vane wrenched his spear free. He swept the shaft in a wide circle. The heavy star metal caught the wounded Marcus in the shins.

Marcus fell. He hit the mercury slicked mud with a heavy splash.

Thorne recovered quickly. His face was twisted in a mask of professional fury. "You're a monster. You fight like a beast, not a knight."

"I fight to win," Vane said. His voice was hollow. "Your Empire taught me that. It's the only thing you've ever given me."

Vane stepped into Thorne's guard. He was not using the Silver Fang for this. He was using the pure, mechanical superiority of his Rank 4 channels and the precision of the Argent Horizon. He delivered a flurry of three thrusts. Each one was aimed at a different joint in Thorne's armor. Thorne parried the first two. His broadsword rang with every impact. But the third thrust caught him in the thigh.

The spear tip buried itself in the meat of the leg. Thorne let out a choked gasp. His knee buckled.

In the background, a massive explosion of white gold light signaled that Varkas had finally regained his footing. The Captain let out a roar of rage. His Physical Aura flared so bright it could be seen through the thickest fog. He was starting to dismantle the Hydra's secondary head. The cost was visible. His armor was melted in places.

"We're out of time," Vane whispered to himself.

He looked at Gareth. The Knight Lieutenant was trembling. He was holding his sword in a two handed grip. His knuckles were white. He was looking at his two fallen companions. Then he looked at Vane. He saw the way the silver rain did not seem to touch Vane's eyes.

"Marcus, Thorne, get up!" Gareth screamed. "Kill him! That's an order!"

Marcus was dragging himself through the mud. He was clutching his sheared helmet. Thorne was trying to stand, but his leg was useless. They were broken. They were the elite of the Third Division. They were being systematically dismantled by a boy from the gutters.

Vane took a slow step forward. His spear tip was level with Gareth's throat. The Silver Fang was still humming. It was a soft, lethal sound that promised an end to everything it touched.

"You're alone, Gareth," Vane said. "No Captains. No Shields. Just you and the rat you thought you could drown."

Gareth's lip trembled. He raised his sword one last time. The Radiant Arc mana sputtered around the blade. He looked like he wanted to say something, but the words would not come.

Vane did not wait for a reply. He lunged.

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