With two noblemen down, that left four more to deal with. And those four were not sitting idly by.

  “What the hell are you doing, rat?!” Jeremy bellowed loud enough to alert the entire neighborhood. “Do you know who we are? Who my father is? I’ll have you hanged for this insolence, you miserable little–”

  “Shut up.” Jack’s voice was even, yet laced with enough fury to melt a mountain. “Let her go.”

  Jeremy stammered to a halt, clearly unused to being interrupted. Beside him, Theodric, Roderick, and Ambrose all exchanged nervous glances. They were now fanned out in a semicircle before Jack, with only Theodric still holding the struggling Lucy. He had one arm wrapped around her neck while the other held her by the midriff. The sight sent a fresh wave of anger through Jack, and he began to stalk toward the four noblemen.

  “Ambrose, Roderick, snap his neck,” Jeremy ordered.

  “With pleasure,” Ambrose said with a smile. “Then the bitch-maid is mine. After you’re done, of course.”

  The two nobles sprinted toward Jack, showing some modicum of strategy by flanking him on both sides. He took in a breath, stretching his fingers out before reclenching them. To his surprise, he was barely winded.

  It’s got to be my heightened Constitution.

  He mentally gauged each of his six pools. Now that he wasn’t overanalyzing his use of them, he found that his body naturally pulled and then relaxed each one as he needed it. Sure, he was able to overclock a specific one more deliberately, but when he simply let them flow freely, he discovered he wasn’t overtaxing his body. It didn’t make his power reservoirs endless by any means, and he was still draining them, but it was loads slower than when he tapped into a specific pool directly.

  Ambrose reached him first. The man was built like a linebacker, yet his feet landed hard and loud across the ground. He raised his arms and yelled as he suddenly dove to tackle Jack.

  Amateur.

  Jack waited until the last possible moment, then pulled on his Strength. Energy flooded through his muscles, and he whipped his fist around to perform a hammerblow down on the aerial man’s skull. His hand collided with the man with enough force to expel the excess dust from his jacket and trousers. Ambrose’s momentum was brutally redirected by that one blow, and a tiny crater formed in the cobblestones from where he landed.

  A notification pinged in Jack’s vision, but fortunately, it stayed minimized for now. Still, there was a shift in Jack’s muscles. He knew he couldn’t do that sort of overclocked attack again—not without risking a state of weakness—but that wasn’t it at all. Something about how his own body moved felt different. More fluid. More cohesive.

  Whatever just happened, I’ll deal with it later and just count it among my blessings.

  Roderick reached him a heartbeat later. He apparently learned from his comrades, as he didn’t barrel in.

  “Get him, Rod!” Jeremy yelled. “Show him fear!”

  Jack spared a ‘Seriously?’ look for the Vaskir heir, but swiftly returned his attention to the circling fighter. Besides the newcomer, Thaddeus, Rolin, and Ambrose moaned or sobbed from their injuries.

  Jack’s anger didn’t let him sit still for long, and he decided to rush the young man. Roderick stumbled back, his fists raised.

  “Please,” Roderick whispered as Jack reached striking distance. “Just run, alright? We won’t follow. Just go.”

  A bit of Jack’s fury chilled at the fear evident in the man’s eyes. “You aren’t like them, are you?”

  Roderick gave the barest shake of his head. “Jer’s dad is the mayor, and so my parents wanted to raise my standing by tying my horse to his carriage. We… we need all the help in court that we can get, you understand? They’re all dogs, but if I do anything but fall in line, they’ll tear my family and me apart.”

  “What are you waiting for, Rod?! Break his skull in and be done with it!” Theodric yelled.

  Lucy gasped something incoherent in his grasp.

  Jack refocused on Roderick. “You may not be a dog like them, but you’ve stood by each time they’ve gone rabid, haven’t you?”

  Guilt consumed the man’s gaze. “I… I didn’t have a choice. My sister… They would’ve…”

  Jack nodded solemnly, but took another step forward. “Trust me, Roderick. Standing by does not absolve you of guilt. It simply hides it better.” He took another step forward. “I’m going to punch you in the face. Go down and stay down. You get back up, and I’ll make you pay for each time you were quiet. Do you understand?”

  A single nod.

  Jack didn’t wait for the noble to change his mind. He released his hold on his Strength stat and threw a clean right hook. It would still hurt, but would lack the power of a level 10 warrior with over 20 Strength. To Roderick’s credit, he took the blow with incredible showmanship. He moved as if to punch Jack in the sternum, but left his face wide open. Jack’s punch landed, and he went flying.

  Roderick spun through the air and landed, ‘passed out’, in a crumpled mess beside Ambrose.

  “You are going to regret ever laying a hand on us, you disgusting gutter rat!” Jeremy shouted. “I’m going to make sure my father lets me into your cell in the dungeon. I will tear the skin off your bones and feed it to you. I will cut off your manhood and feed it to the pigs. I will–”

  “Do you ever stop talking?” Jack asked.

  He casually flicked out his wrists and approached the final two noblemen. His balance felt better than ever, and there was an enjoyable spring to his step as he approached the final three standing forms.

  “You dare interrupt me again?! I will–” Jeremy started again, indignation brightening his pale cheeks to a deep crimson that matched his sash.

  Jack blitzed forward a second time, this time overhauling his Dexterity stat. Jeremy was ready, however, and seemed to respond in kind. The man moved in a blur, clearly eclipsing Jack’s own Dexterity stat. He came up directly behind Jack with his hand already moving at a terrible speed. It hit Jack directly on the back of his neck, and he saw stars.

  He stumbled forward, and Jeremy struck forward again, once on his left ribs and the other underneath his right ribs and into his gut. Nausea swept through his body, and he resisted the urge to upend his stomach.

  “You think you’re the first idiot to try and stop us from having our fun?” Jeremy demanded. “Every once in a while, there’s some cook or brother or apprentice like you who gets in the way of his betters!”

  The noble twisted and kicked at Jack’s proffered head. Jack ducked under it but missed the follow-up roundhouse. It slammed into his left side and sent him flying so fast through the air that he barely had time to register the blow before his right side crashed into a nearby wall. The home it belonged to shuddered under the force.

  Jack felt blood fill his mouth. It tasted of iron and smoke.

  He fell to his hands and knees and fought to catch his breath. Pain seared across his entire right side, but he could feel Phoenix’s Blood work to fix the worst of the internal damage. More notifications blinked in the corner of his vision. They were likely the skill leveling up from the stress he was putting it under.

  He spat out the blood and got to his feet.

  “Well, there’s something you don’t see every day. The rat can take a hit,” Jeremy shouted, stretching out his arms in drunken pleasure. “I’d love to see how much punishment you can take. Let’s make it a game, shall we? For each hit you survive, I’ll shorten your torture under my knife by one hour. Sound fair?”

  “You’re sick,” Jack muttered.

  He rose to his full height and got into a defensive position.

  “There you go, rat. Come and bite the hand that feeds you,” Jeremy challenged.

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  Jack stalked forward, and Jeremy rushed to meet him. Jeremy’s arms flashed forward, and Jack immediately overclocked his Perception to keep up. His opponent was ridiculously fast and strong to boot.

  He must have something augmenting his stats, Jack realized, ducking under a vicious left hook.

  Grunting, he crossed his arms to block Jeremy’s rising knee, but the force of the strike sent him sliding back several feet.

  “Blocks don’t count, little rat!” Jeremy said in a sing-song voice. “Now, let me hit you!”

  Jeremy struck again in a whirlwind of blows. Where his allies had been telegraphed and manageable, Jeremy was different. He was undeniably well-trained, and the difference between their raised stats was showing.

  Jack’s overclocked Perception was drying up at a precipitous rate, but it was all he had to defend against Jeremy’s unending onslaught.

  I have to end this, Jack concluded.

  He pulled on his only viable skill.

  “Skill Activate: Smoldering Fists,” Jack whispered.

  Jeremy somehow heard him and took his first true step back, shock replacing his bloodthirsty joy.

  Nothing happened.

  “Shit!” Jack said right as Jeremy began to laugh.

  “You almost had me there. What, did you steal some trinket that lets you fake what class you have? What’s your real class? It’s definitely not some Legendary combat class called Cinder Sovereign. Where did you even come up with that?” Jeremy roared with laughter.

  I… I used up too much of my stat pools, Jack groggily realized. Fine. I don’t need them to beat up this snake of a man.

  He wiped the blood leaking from his nose and sniffed. “You’re good. But you’re nothing compared to the orcs I’ve killed.”

  A dangerous glint filled Jeremy’s gaze. “You know what? It’s the damndest thing, but I just don’t believe you, little rat. You may be classed up, but I outrank you in every conceivable way. Here, let me prove it.”

  That was all the warning Jack got.

  He was forced to let go of his overclocked Perception lest he suffer its penalty for zeroing out. But Jeremy was upon him in a heartbeat. He swung his right fist down in a cruel mimicry of the hammerblow he’d used against Ambrose, and he barely had time to move his head out of the way before it collided with his right shoulder. The joint instantly dislocated, but Jeremy was far from done.

  He kicked out Jack’s knees, but Jack rolled with the strike, widening the distance between him and his assailant.

  He’s quicker, so I have to be smarter.

  Jack let Jeremy come to him, turtling up his defenses by blocking what he could, and tanking the rest. Blow after blow landed across his body. He felt like he was being unmade. He bore it all, waiting.

  Waiting.

  Waiting.

  THERE!

  Phoenix Blood could barely keep up with the damage, but it gave him just enough endurance to let him catch the first true opening. His Constitution—thank God—was finally up for the task. It was time to use his only other available class skill.

  Jeremy’s fist, coated in Jack’s blood, lifted in preparation to crash into Jack’s jaw.

  Three seconds, he reminded himself.

  He met Jeremy’s eyes.

  Let’s see how much you’ve invested in Resilience, you sick bastard.

  Jack Thatcher whispered, “Skill Activate: Smoldering Fists.”

  Screw his hesitation to harm these nobles. Screw his restraint. They were clearly content to kill him then and there, so why should he hold back? Worse, like the last time he was in this situation, if he failed, someone else would pay the price, too.

  He would not let that happen.

  Jack’s fists blazed to life, and he struck.

  The first jab connected with Jeremy’s solar plexus, and fire licked across the Vaskir heir’s sash and silken clothes. He focused, picking up his flagging Strength and Dexterity to speed his second fist right after the other. It worked. He could feel his second fist overcome the skill’s growing power and resistance. He roared with triumph as he rushed upward and landed a perfect uppercut into Jeremy’s jaw, but not before one of Jeremy’s many rings cut into his right bicep.

  He flew backward, head over heels. Fire raced across his clothes, and while his face was singed, it didn’t burst aflame. That was fine. His attack had worked.

  He immediately turned off his skill and stood to his full height.

  Something was wrong. He felt lethargy and numbness spread from his right arm. He stumbled to the side.

  It was Jeremy’s turn to spit blood, he coughed and hacked, but grinned up at Jack. “I was saving that particular jewel for Lucy, but you’ll do. Don’t even try to fight it. That paralysis toxin could knock out a grown chromox, you stupid little–”

  Jack’s veins bulged as liquid flame raged through his right arm. The lethargy vanished in seconds, and he shook out the appendage.

  Right. Immune to poisons. God, thank you for that.

  “You’re going to have to try harder than that, you disgusting prick,” Jack muttered and cracked his neck.

  “Oh, that’s a promise, little rat,” Jeremy said, rising to his feet. From behind his back, he pulled out a long, serrated dagger. “I’m going to stain this street red with that rotten blood of yours.”

  Behind him, Lucy shouted, “Run! That’s a Vaskir blade! Please, just ru–”

  Theodric gagged her with his hand, and her eyes watered.

  Jeremy strode forward, dagger held in a reverse grip. Across the street, the four downed nobles were just beginning to stir.

  Jack raised his fists. He was bloodied and bruised, but he would fight to the bitter end against these vermin.

  Jeremy reached him and slashed forward, noticeably slower than he was before. Jack ducked underneath it and noticed for the first time that the noble had three distinct pouches tied securely to his belt. One was a standard leather pouch, which clinked softly. The other was cylindrical and seemed to hold a series of vials. But the third…

  The third was pitch black and covered with runes.

  Jack knew what he had to do. He played defense, dodging, rolling, and ducking under each of his would-be murderer’s attacks.

  He got another notification, and his movements became even easier. He felt like he could move more efficiently now. At the same time, Jeremy’s attacks, while still fast, became easier to predict. Jack let Jeremy get in close with a quick thrust, and Jack’s hand finally struck. He pulled on the black pouch right as he finally struck back in this latest exchange.

  He threw his free hand down onto the slick ground and rotated so that his knee rocketed up and around in a modified capoeira kick. Jeremy flew backward under Jack’s recovered strength, and he returned to his feet with a grin. Jack casually tucked the pouch inside his own belt.

  Somehow, Jeremy noticed the slight movement and rushed to pat down his sides. His gaze turned frantic.

  “Give them back, rat.” Jeremy sounded genuinely panicked for the first time. “You have no idea what you’re playing with. Give them back.”

  Terror. There was terror in Jeremy Vaskir’s gaze.

  Just what is so important about these marbles?

  “I said, GIVE THEM BACK!”

  Jeremy rushed forward, all finesse forgotten. Gone was the manic pleasure in the fight. Gone was the nobleman’s arrogance. In their place rushed a desperate, cornered animal.

  WHAM!

  The Vaskir heir was sprinting toward Jack one moment, and the next, he was a missile through the air. There was a flash of gold, and then he crashed into the city wall over three dozen yards away. The crater he made was clearly visible even from this distance.

  In his place stood a warrior in red armor accentuated with white chainmail. Her red hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, and a massive broadsword was in her gauntleted grip. Cold mist wafted off her form, but when she turned her gaze onto Jack and the others present, all Jack could see was an inferno of anger.

  Her gaze locked onto Theodric, who continued to restrain Lucy.

  She was there in an instant. It was so fast that Jack’s Perception couldn’t even discern when she moved. All he knew was that she wasn’t there, and then she was. Her gauntleted hand was holding Theodric by the throat.

  Jack rushed forward. Yelena lifted the noble by his neck, and Jack made it in time to safely extricate the petite woman from his grasp.

  Lucy looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes and said, “Thank you. Thank you for fighting for me. I… I won’t forget this. I promise.”

  “You’re welcome,” Jack whispered. “But you should really get somewhere safe. Oh, and maybe don’t go to work tomorrow.”

  She nodded once and then stumbled away through a narrow divide between two houses.

  Meanwhile, Yelena was saying something to Theodric, though her voice carried enough for even Jeremy to hear it where he lay.

  “–Despicable examples of what it is to be a Red Knight. I will be talking with your superior officers immediately. For cornering a citizen with intent to rape and molest, three days in the brig with no food or water,” Yelena shouted into their faces.

  Most of them were still on the ground, though Theodric was still held aloft by the tall woman, and Jeremy was stumbling his way back toward the group.

  “Tread carefully, rusthead,” Jeremy said in a surprisingly even tone. “You don’t want to climb this particular mountain and discover the dragon resting atop it.”

  Jack watched as Yelena tossed Theodric into his friends, and they all gave shouts of shock and pain.

  “For illegally wielding a blade against a citizen with intent to harm or kill, an additional three days with no food or water. Is that understood, Initiate?” Captain Stark shouted.

  “Six days with no… How dare you, you rustbi–” Jeremy started.

  He got no further.

  Yelena was in front of him, fist already driving into his gut. He flew up into the air over ten feet before he came crashing down. Yelena twisted on her back heel and struck out with a powerful roundhouse kick. It connected with Jeremy’s gut, and he was sent rolling across the unforgiving cobblestones.

  This time, there was no flash of gold. Jeremy did not get up.

  “Initiates! Dismissed!” Stark ordered, and somehow, the five young men obeyed.

  Stumbling and helping each other up, they moved toward the center of the city. Rolin was the worst off, his arm still bent in the wrong direction. All five boys shot murderous glares toward Jack, but he met them evenly. He honestly couldn’t care in that moment.

  Justice was finally—finally—getting served.

  But before he could relax and check his slew of notifications, Yelena was standing in front of him.