Maria's men surrounded her but didn't dare draw their weapons on Alex. "He's insane," she muttered to herself. "Absolutely insane." She had never been more afraid in her life.
Orrin's eyes were red with rage. "I'm going to kill you," he hissed, drawing his sword. Keeping an eye on Celeste, he crept in a wide semicircle, looking for an opening to engage with Alex.
"I'm never going to understand why guys like you don't get the hint," Alex said, shaking his head. "I've beaten every single person the Ghosts have thrown at me, but you still keep coming. I'm almost embarrassed for you."
He picked up a fallen sword and tested its weight. "You guys seem to love your blades," he said. "But I know how to use a blade, too." At the hospital, he had used a special sword technique taught by the Moon Palace and had won a fight while armed only with a knife. Now he had a real weapon in his hand.
"What are you talking about?" asked Orrin.
"I'm Alex Ambrose," Alex said. "You've never heard of me? That hurts my feelings."
He toyed with his sword for a moment. It wasn't the same kind of sword he had trained with—this one was much lighter and had a narrower blade, but it was similar enough.
"You don't have to worry about me remembering your name," Orrin said, raising his blade.
"It's always the stubborn ones," Alex muttered. "Okay, then," he said, crooking a finger at Orrin, "come on. Take your best shot."
"This isn't about winning or losing," Orrin said. "This is about life and death. Your death." He bared his teeth. "I am a master swordsman, and you're just a nobody with a big mouth."
"A master?" Alex chuckled. "Another one? I've taken on more than a couple of masters, and I'm still here. So let's see what you're a master of."
He had already beaten Orrin's son, and he had killed the previous leader of the Ghosts, even though no one knew exactly how he had done it. The Ghosts had not been too forthcoming when talking about Jacob Randolph's cause of death. The secrecy had worked in Alex's favor, though, by adding to his legend, and the Ghosts had learned to be afraid of him.
"You talk too much," Orrin said, flourishing his sword in his right hand while his left slipped into a pouch on his belt. He threw a handful of darts while his opponent's eyes followed the sword.
Alex spun his blade in a whirling circle, scattering the darts. One of them hit an old tree, and smoke hissed where the dart dug itself into the bark. Poison darts, he thought. Typical.
He took a moment to wonder what that dart would do to a human, but he wasn't afraid. "I guess a fair fight is too much to expect from you," he said scathingly. "Poison is a coward's weapon."
Orrin roared like a lion and pulled out another set of darts from a different pouch. These looked different from the last. Instead of throwing them at Alex, though, he gathered them into his fist and stabbed them into his own leg. Alex fought to keep the surprise off his face as Orrin began to change. His muscles seemed to expand, and the veins in his arms bulged with increased pressure. Whatever Orrin had taken, it had clearly increased his physical strength.
Orrin's followers murmured and laughed, their eyes filled with longing and worship. They were eager to watch him regain the Ghosts' honor by standing up to Alex.
"Were those steroids?" Alex asked, raising an eyebrow. "That seems a little extreme. If I don't kill you, they probably will. Is this supposed to scare me?"
He knew his mocking tone would enrage Orrin.
He knew a little about the kind of herbs that could increase someone's strength like this, but they were dangerous. Using his inner force made him stronger and faster than a normal person, but not at the risk of losing his sanity or blowing out his cardiovascular system. Besides, these drugs were too unpredictable, and the potential side effects were gruesome.
It's also cheating, he mused. Why bother mastering swordplay if you can just become a super-strong rage monster?
He kept his guard up. Orrin's strength and speed might be artificially induced, but he would kill Alex just the same if he found an opening.
Orrin let out a battle cry and swung his sword at Alex. His followers echoed their leader, howling like hungry beasts. Alex ignored it, but Maria—trapped by the fight, but safely ignored for the moment—shuddered in fear. She kept looking at her cell phone as if waiting for a call.
Orrin lunged, his sword whistling through the air with inhuman speed. His strike was meant to split Alex in two from above. But Alex had gathered his inner force, and he was ready for the attack. There was a loud clang, and sparks flew as Orrin's blade was stopped dead by Alex's.
They stood frozen for a moment. Alex had not budged. Even clouded by madness, Orrin's eyes widened in shock. He had not expected Alex to match him in speed, and he was stunned at his opponent's strength. The part of him that was still able to think clearly knew his strike should have felt like getting hit by a car, but Alex hadn't even blinked.
"Okay," Alex conceded with a nod. "That wasn't bad. Maybe calling yourself a master swordsman isn't all that unreasonable." He meant it, too. He wasn't in the habit of praising people who were trying to kill him—not even Jacob, who had almost killed him. It was a sincere compliment.
But to Orrin's ears, it was just more mockery. He shuffled backward half a step to regroup for another attack.
Alex held up his blade again and showed Orrin that it had been broken in two. "I'm sure it wasn't the highest quality steel," he said, "but that was still a hell of a hit."
Orrin grinned. He and Alex both knew that it took an incredible amount of strength to slice through folded steel.