Many thoughts crossed my mind over one short trek across the backyard field. The situation was too weird in too many ways. A normal person wouldn’t climb a sixteen-foot fence by accident. The feat took considerable athletic skill and determination. It being a simple urban explorer was out of the question. A thief would do a more thorough background check, know who the estate belonged to, and realize his life was on the line. Robbing any other house in the city would only earn a burglar five to ten years in prison, so you couldn’t say the risk and reward were in balance with this address.

  Whatever his goal, our fellow was clearly ready to lay down his life for it. Being armed to the teeth said the same.

  So what was the mission? If he were after the General's life, he should’ve known the target was practically never at home. Was this mercenary the committed type then, resolved to lie low for weeks, waiting for the ideal opportunity, while dodging gardeners and patrols? No, that was unlikely. His target had to be confirmed present, here, today.

  Was that target me then? Had he somehow figured out my true identity? But I rarely left the manor and shouldn't have caught anyone's eye in the city. If my current residence was known, that meant there was a leak either in the RA command or the CI. A reactionary making a move outside the system? But for that, they sure were slow to act. I'd been here for almost three months by now. And I expected they'd have sent more than one guy, if it was me they wanted. Many more.

  I couldn’t fully rule out the possibility that the visitor was here for my aunt. She was rich, pretty, had knowledge of advanced technology, and went out all the time. It could be that one of her business rivals from Aschtelt had tracked her down here and hired a blade. What better time to eliminate professional competition than when she traveled abroad? In that case, the guy was toast now. Stalking Ms Asia was a capital felony in these parts.

  Well, I couldn't summarily fry the guy with Emily around. I had to hold onto my cover of being “just a gifted novice.” But I’d make sure to show our intruder the error of his ways, and then let the Bureau take care of what was left.

  We went with the classic pincer move, fit for catching hares. I instructed Emily to approach from the north along the fence and not bother to keep quiet (since that wasn't going to work out, anyway), while I’d ambush the villain from the south side.

  The fellow was definitely not a Swordmaster.

  I made it only twenty steps away before he even realized I was there. Neither was he a mage, unable to sense that he was being assessed. Having heard Emily's rummaging in the bushes from half a mile away, he’d climbed down from the trees and lay flat between the shaded ferns that grew wild along the outer fence.

  But he sure wasn't a run-of-the-mill voyeur, either.

  The burglar was dressed in a murky green cuirass of hardened leather, with a hood and leggings of the same theme, which made him blend uncannily well in the greenery. His bare arms were long like pythons and heavy with muscle, and he’d rubbed dirt and grass green over them to obfuscate the lines of the limbs. The small hood covered his head, and his lower face as well was masked, leaving only a narrow crack for the eyes. He wore a leather harness of sorts over the vest with small blades and tools hanging off thin metal links. The thin leggings hugged the shapes of his muscular legs, providing the maximum ease of movement, and were downright scandalous to look at. He was a walking obscenity, belonging in jail just for his crimes against fashion. I went no closer.

  “Don't move,” I said, my hand held at his defenseless back.

  “——!”

  “Anything sudden and you’ll burn. Slowly raise your hands, and—”

  I got no further than that. The man disregarded the threat, kicked off the ground to roll nimbly over his head, and up. In one fluid motion, he swiped something off his harness and threw it back at me, at the same time as he dashed off like the hounds of the Bloody Baron were on his tail. What was he, a circus performer?

  “Rat!”

  I had to cancel the casting to evade the blade whistling narrowly past my throat. Nice aim. But the man wouldn't stick around to capitalize on the opening. In a heartbeat, he drew an astounding gap between us and was quickly vanishing between the trees and into the vastness of the untended field.

  Why are you running away? Stand and fight, chicken!

  I launched a few Spindles after him, but they fell astray and fizzed out after reaching the limits of my range. One shot grazed the runner's shoulder, but barely retained enough force to draw blood. Where was he going? Swearing under my breath, I chased after the creep. I was never much of a runner. The activity was never not awkward for me, my chest flopping unrhythmically up and down. A mage's job was to firmly stand her ground, not prance through forests and rivers like a deer.

  But I'd accounted for this. I wasn’t alone. With her senses, Emily could keep track of what was happening and cut ahead of the runner to block his path. That girl sure could run, being less chesty. Moreover, she had spirit. Shortly, she emerged from the thicket to block the intruder’s path.

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  “Stop right there!” she roared at the goon with a very peppery passion, like a real officer of law, and threateningly held out her hand. And the foe actually did stop.

  “On your knees, now!”

  The big green man looked around, like searching for a way out. Or maybe checking if anyone else was nearby. Going east towards the manor would’ve been a bad move for him, since there were only more people there to get in his way. Westward, the outer fence cut off his escape, not so easy to scale while bombarded with magic from the backside. One mage ahead, one behind, he was trapped. He snatched another blade from his harness and held it ready.

  “On your knees! Do it!” Emily roared, a star of cold shine lit in front of her fingers.

  The villain tensed. He glanced down at the coils of red heat revolving snugly around his waist and legs. By now, I’d caught up and had him in the firm grip of my Telekinesis. He wasn't taking another step in one piece.

  “As she says,” I told him, trying not to look like I was out of breath after sprinting seventy yards.

  The man looked back at me. His eyes were hazel. The corners not yet creased but not youthfully smooth either. Thirty years old, or so, if I had to guess. There was surprise in his eyes, and a touch of fear, the fear of standing before the unknown. Only too late did I notice the fear melting away from his look, leaving only cold, apathetic resolve and resignation. I knew that look well. He'd chosen his way, already before he met us. I’d thought he’d come here mostly with no idea what he was getting into, but I was wrong. He had chosen death. A quick flick of a wrist, and he cast the small metal blade—not at me, at Emily.

  And I had to make my own choice.

  I launched the wind coils around him down, shredding the man's hips and legs, then to reach past his collapsing figure with my mind, seeking the flying blade before it should find its mark. I was late to move. Too late. No, even had I somehow seen through his mind and reacted any sooner, catching such a tiny object from flight with my level of telekinetic control—it was not going to happen, and I knew it. But I had to try, anyway, disregarding what my reason insisted was futile.

  Then I stopped, seeing the S-shaped throwing knife suspended between Emily’s outstretched fingers.

  “Huh? That's funny,” she remarked, blinking dumbstruck at the blade.

  I exhaled a sigh of relief, closed the channel, and went over to her.

  “Are you all right? You weren't cut, were you?”

  The weapon could've been poisoned, so I took it and examined her hand, but it appeared she’d caught it cleanly.

  “I-I'm okay,” she said, shocked by her own unexpected deftness. “It's like, everything was suddenly moving really slowly. I could see that thing so clearly, much clearer than it looks now, from every possible angle at the same time…”

  “So your training paid off. Being cornered heightened your senses. Looking normally, it takes time for your eyes and brain to process what they receive and convert it into a form you can make sense of. But Third Eye skips those steps and lets your mind perceive events directly at the speed of light. Because your perception is quickened, it looks as if time has slowed down, and you can react much faster than ordinary people.”

  “Uhhhh okay?”

  Never mind. Maybe not the right time for that.

  We turned back to the intruder who lay writhing on the ground, groaning, profusely bleeding from the many ugly gashes along his legs.

  “Is he going to be alright?” Emily asked.

  “I don't think I cut an artery, but we'd best staunch the bleeding now.”

  We had a lot of questions for him, after all.

  But before we could begin treating the intruder, he rolled over onto his back, clutching a small object looking like a piece of green glass in his fist. He still had more tricks up his sleeve? Exerting his waning strength, the man crushed the object in his grip and held the fragments close to his chest. Heat began well up explosively, erupting in a livid, phosphorous blaze that spread to devour his torso. He burned up in front of our eyes like a dry paper doll, howling in agony as he went.

  “Emily, quench the fire.”

  My magic was useless here, but maybe hers would fare better.

  Emily hurried to cast Cold Field over the burning man, but the raging inferno refused to die down, despite her efforts. She kept on pouring mana into the magic, gritting her teeth, but it took a long while for the heat to be fully subdued. By the end, little more remained of the trespasser but a brittle, charred shape that only distantly resembled a person, the limbs crumbled to mere stumps, the chest hollowed out, and the face entirely gone. Impossible to identify.

  “I'm sorry, Hope,” Emily whispered and fell to sit in the grass, gasping for air and pale. “I don't know why it didn’t work…”

  “Don't take it personally,” I said. “Pure magic fire that uses mana as fuel cannot be stopped only by preventing oxidation. You’d need to overpower the phenomenon itself. The fact that you struggled means the artifact used was at least Tier 4, or higher. His fate was sealed as soon as he activated it.”

  Tools of such potency weren't cheap or sold at every street corner. He was meant to burn cleanly to ashes and leave nothing behind that could incriminate his employer. Even more so than I, this man had been a weapon, living and dying to execute his function. What was so important here that he had to die for it? Who had sent him, and what were they so desperate to hide? There went our answers, swallowed by the fire of jaden green.