"Holy shit, that was amazing!" Jos exclaimed, his voice brimming with excitement. The sudden outburst shattered the tense atmosphere as Malvin, mid-story, turned to look at him with a raised brow. "Especially that line at the end! You sounded just like a hero delivering his victory speech after beating the big bad villain!" Jos continued, practically vibrating with enthusiasm. His shaggy, lion-like mane of hair swished energetically behind him, looking more like a happy cat's tail in his excitement.
*He's more housecat than lion,* everyone thought collectively, though no one voiced it.
"But that doesn't make sense..." Tores interrupted, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
Loreen nodded in agreement. "If Joshua Ambrose lost, then he would've stopped his operations right then and there. Meaning..." She trailed off.
"He didn't keep the deal," Clare suggested.
"Or wasn't knocked unconscious," Aeron finished, his tone matter-of-fact.
Malvin gave a sharp nod. "You're all right. I was getting to that part if someone hadn't interrupted." His sharp glare pinned Jos in place.
Jos gulped and quickly looked down at the floor, trying to avoid Malvin's gaze. "I was just—uh—excited," he mumbled weakly.
"There, there," Aeron said flatly, patting Jos on the back with his cold, metal arm. His voice carried the emotional depth of a brick. "You were excited. It's fine."
Jos didn't look comforted in the slightest. If anything, he seemed more distressed, unsure whether it was Aeron's tone or the unyielding clank of the metallic pats that made it worse.
"Moving on," Malvin said, his tone sharp as he cleared his throat and continued. "After I knocked that piece of shit flat on his back and thought I'd won, I turned to Philip and Nunin—if that's even the dwarf's name. Doesn't matter. He's not important. I told them…"
---
"You two heard what he said," Malvin growled, lifting his baton toward them as if daring them to test him. "So, I suggest you stand down."
Philip barked out a harsh laugh, the sound echoing through the tense room. Nunin, meanwhile, stepped back nervously.
"You think I give a shit about what that freak said?" Philip snarled, his sharp teeth bared in a feral grin. "I couldn't care less about his deal. And looking at the state you're in, I'm just gonna kill you. Easy."
Malvin's eyes narrowed, his grip on his baton tightening. "I knew better than to trust the word of criminals like you." He stepped forward, his stance shifting in preparation for another fight.
Before he could close the gap, a familiar voice broke the tension.
"Well, you haven't beaten me yet, so he shouldn't uphold our deal anyway," the voice drawled, casual and infuriatingly calm.
Malvin froze, his eyes widening, as did everyone else in the room. Slowly, he turned back to see Joshua sitting casually on the ground, legs crossed and head propped on his palm. A smug grin stretched across his face.
"How the fuck?" Philip muttered, disbelief etched into his features.
"How's that possible?" Nunin echoed, his voice filled with equal parts confusion and fear.
Malvin's gaze darted to Joshua's face. He'd swung with every ounce of strength he had left, activating the baton's shock function for good measure. Yet Joshua looked… fine. Not unscathed, but far better than he should have been. A faint scratch marred his cheek—something more akin to a scrape from a careless stumble than a full-force swing of a shock-baton.
Joshua noticed their incredulity and chuckled, his grin widening. "Oh, come on. You didn't really think I'd go down after all that taunting, did you?" He leaned forward slightly, his eyes glinting with mischief. "You can't just expect me to fold after calling you done already."
Malvin clicked his tongue in frustration, his grip tightening on the baton as he raised it again. His other fist clenched at his side, his stance shifting to prepare for round two.
Joshua chuckled as he hopped effortlessly to his feet, his movements fluid and confident, as if the earlier exchange had been nothing more than a warm-up.
"Still, I didn't expect you to grab me after all that punishment," Joshua admitted, touching the faint scratch on his cheek with his fingertips. "That surprised me." His tone carried a mix of amusement and genuine curiosity as he rubbed the spot thoughtfully. "You know, I haven't been hit in so long I almost forgot what pain feels like," he added, his voice laced with an unsettling nostalgia. For a moment, his eyes seemed distant, lost in a memory.
Then, just as suddenly, his focus snapped back to Malvin, his grin sharpening. "Ah, sorry. You don't want to hear me prattle on about my life. You're here to arrest me, aren't you? And you gave it everything you had to try." He gave a mock bow, the motion dripping with sarcastic elegance. "And me? I held back. A dishonorable act, I'll admit. For that, I apologize."
Malvin tensed as much as his battered body allowed, his baton wavering slightly in his trembling grip.
"From now on, I'll use my full strength," Joshua declared, his voice devoid of the mockery that usually colored it. His words were chillingly matter-of-fact.
Malvin's heart pounded in his chest as he struggled to steel himself. His legs felt like lead, his muscles like water. *I'll focus on counterattacking,* he told himself, desperately grasping at the remnants of his plan. *I got him once—I can do it again if I—*
Before he could finish his thought, Joshua was in front of him.
"It won't work twice," Joshua said, his voice a low murmur that struck Malvin like a thunderclap. Malvin barely registered the words before a powerful shove from Joshua's left hand sent him stumbling backward, his footing unsteady.
Then, before he could recover, Joshua's right hand shot forward. A flurry of strikes hammered into Malvin's chest, each impact coming faster than the last, all within a single second. Joshua's movements blurred with unnatural speed, his fists colliding with Malvin's body in a relentless cascade. It was inhuman. No normal man could move that fast, let alone hit with such precision.
Malvin choked out a wet gasp as pain exploded through his chest, his ribs creaking under the assault. Blood sprayed from his lips as his lungs struggled to draw air. His knees buckled, and he started to collapse—only for Joshua's uppercut to catch him square beneath the chin.
The force of the blow lifted Malvin off his feet entirely. His body arced through the air before crashing down hard, skidding several feet across the floor. He landed on his back, gasping as the air was violently driven from his lungs. Each shallow breath burned like fire as he tried to will his body to move.
"That shouldn't be possible…" Philip muttered from the sidelines, his voice barely above a whisper. His green eyes locked on Joshua, disbelief etched into his face. Joshua's build wasn't very remarkable—average, maybe slightly above, at best.
Someone like him launching someone like Malvin—an Ironguard officer with a powerful build—was absurd. Unless…
*Magic.* The realization hit Philip like a thunderbolt. *He's using magic.*
Joshua stood over Malvin, cracking his knuckles as a smirk curled across his lips. His posture was relaxed, confident, as though the fight had only just begun. The balance of power had shifted entirely. Where moments ago Malvin had stood victorious, he now lay broken at Joshua's feet.