The cool night air occasionally breezed past Quin, it did little to keep sweat off his face. His eyes shifted between two places, the fallen Yerp beside him and the fiercesome foe ahead of him.

  Distant screams filled his ears while burnt carbon filled his nose. The flames started to dim but they still brightened most of the city.

  Neither of the combatants paid attention to their surroundings. They simply inched closer toward each other.

  Every part of Arthur tensed up from his face down to his fists. He stopped right next to the steps as his eyes followed Quin.

  “I thought you guys were supposed to be ‘Protectors of the Domain’,” Arthur stated. “I thought the reason you cloaks exist were to stop things like this from happening. Nothing but frauds, every last one of you.”

  The words were in and out of Quin’s head. He continually glanced over to Yach who remained face down and completely still.

  Precious seconds burned like some of the buildings. He had to do something.

  “This just shows that the Cosondera don’t really need to exist at all. A city burns to the ground and the cloaks couldn’t stop that? They have all this control and they couldn’t eve-”

  A powerful [Gust] interrupted Arthur. Quin had no time for any spiels. This needed to end as quickly as possible.

  Unfortunately, Quin’s foe leaped over and out of the way from the blast. Their downed associate ended up swept away.

  Quin quickly realized how dangerous his wind arts would be in a situation like this, so he had to stick with martial arts.

  Quin jumped up to one of the stair railings ahead and sprung himself up to meet his opponent.

  Folded to a ball, he spun up to his enemy at high speed. Right as the two foes met in the air, Quin connected with a dropkick to the gut.

  Discomfort filled every part of Arthur’s contorted face. He still locked his arms with Quin’s legs then leaned all the way back.

  Arthur and gravity teamed up on Quin whose view turned from the sky to the ground.

  His head and upper body planted the paved floor, his head took a nasty bounce in particular as his mask clacked with hard rock.

  His covering stayed in one piece. The pieces behind the mask however, had to be put back together.

  The two combatants quickly picked themselves up though Quin wobbled as he faced ahead.

  In the stand off, he stuck out his arm. It looked like he was about to use another [Gust]. It looked like wanted to keep his distance.

  Arthur grinned as he retained his stance. He seemed to enjoy himself.

  From the exchange, the two changed spots. The steps now laid behind them both. As Quin tried to shake off the wooziness, he caught sight of the still motionless Yach up ahead. He instantly jumped back into the fray.

  He highly telegraphed it.

  Arthur simply sidestepped out of the way and unleashed a series of shots to the kidney. Then one to the face.

  Quin swung out his arm for a backhand but Arthur dodged; Quin’s midsection became a free target.

  Arthur alternated jabs across the Tyroviv’s torso before he finished with a back kick to the head.

  It spun Quin in the air until his back made contact with the railing. A deep toned sound rang out from the railing while Quin wailed in pain.

  The mounted structure nearly teetered over but remained attached to the ground.

  “I don’t know why you’re not taking this seriously.” Arthur mentioned with a smug look. “Maybe my words hit you harder. Maybe you realized you picked the wrong team. Or maybe I’m overestimating you.”

  Quin used the moment to pull himself together. Again his focus shifted between two people.

  His opponent seemed intent to take as much time as possible. He on the other hand had no time to spare.

  The two switched spots again and now Yach lay behind Quin. In the end he didn’t want a fight.

  He rushed up the steps to reach Yach. Arthur rushed after him. In that moment, Quin found an opening.

  He quickly zipped around with a sudden kick. His leg never connected with Arthur but his wind arts covered the distance.

  A swirl of air that lashed out from his leg. From point blank range, Arthur had nowhere to dodge.

  He was whipped back several yards before he landed on the ground.

  Quin had his chance to get Yach and get out. He sprang up the steps and tried to reach the fallen Yerp when thin air obstructed him again.

  He turned back and saw Arthur up on his feet. No smile this time, the braided Sentar’i raised his fist up to his face.

  “I see what the problem is,” Arthur stated as a blue circle appeared on the back of his hand.

  “You’re so focused on something else, you don’t even know how bad of a spot you’re in. I think it’s time to let you know.”

  The blue circle glowed before Arthur vanished in an instant. Quin had no time to guess the technique when his opponent suddenly appeared behind him.

  He turned just to receive a stuffer of a jab right in the face.

  It launched Quin away from the steps and away from Yach. His cloak skid across the ground while he rolled to a stop. Slowly, he rose up to an elbow.

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  The cold night chill came back. More and more of the flames started to peter out. Despite that, Quin still felt the urgency to leave the scene.

  Yach remained on the ground. As if nothing differentiated him from some stone or leaf. Somebody had to get the man to a Mender. Somebody.

  Quin got up to his feet as Arthur strolled down the steps.

  “Did you...see that?” the braided Sentar’i asked between breaths. “If I wanted to, I could have put an end to you right away. Unless you want me to do that. Or maybe...”

  He turned his gaze around to Yach. Quin’s eyes widened. His thoughts ceased and his body charged ahead. This time instead of any offense, Quin vaulted over his opponent.

  He would have landed right next to Yach, but again, Arthur’s [Airbox] kept him out of reach.

  Quin spun back, but Arthur disappeared again. In a blink, his foe showed up right beside him.

  Actually, Arthur appeared right in front of him. Actually, he appeared on Quin’s other side. It looked like there were three of him.

  Quin couldn’t even raise his arms to defend himself when he found himself subjected to repeated strikes.

  Virtually a three on one affair, Quin took pummel after pummel until two fists rammed against each side of his face. Then the back of his head took the brunt of a kick.

  He tumbled down the steps with bounces and thuds. Seconds passed by before he slowly pushed himself off the dirt.

  Pain and disorientation were all he felt. He tried to rise to a knee when he tipped over. Not even close to the slanted railing, he slumped back down.

  How could Quin be a “champion of the Yerps” as Yach put it when he struggled to save just one.

  Frustration found its way into his brain. His spirit begged his body to move faster. He couldn’t do it without difficulty.

  Arthur became one again and took a few extra breaths as he checked his surroundings. Though in bad shape, the city endured.

  The flames became isolated hot-spots and the chaos started to wane. He groaned at the sight as it darkened in the night.

  “So you cloaks stopped a city from burning over completely, but you still let it burn. The city doesn’t need you. The world doesn’t need you. In fact, I’ll prove it.”

  Arthur shot himself up into the air. Slightly hovered over Quin, the blue circle on his hand now glowed red.

  Suddenly, he made a rapid descent and aimed to stomp-dive on the battered Cosondere.

  Right on the verge of contact, something shoved Quin out of harm’s way.

  Arthur missed and cracked the ground beneath him. He yelped over the crumbled rocks. He immediately fell over and grabbed his shin.

  Quin rose up and scanned the scene. If another enemy appeared, his outlook would turn bleak. To his fortune, it turned out to be another Tyroviv.

  “Sorry about that. Couldn’t reach you any faster,” spoke the Cosondere from atop a barrier on the higher road.

  A woman in a mask with blonde hair, it was the same lady Quin saw earlier that evening in the alley.

  Her arm rose to the sky with a Light Ocer in her hand. On the ground, her shadow retracted back or more precisely, her puppet.

  “More stragglers to herd,” she said as she landed down and alternated from one tiptoe to another. “Most of your friends have been caught. I’m sure they’d be happy to see you.”

  Her movements almost appeared as a dance as she sashayed in place. She flicked her wrist to and fro and shined her orb back and forth.

  Her motions reminded Quin of none other than Arelis back in the Pit.

  Arthur still favored his lower leg as he stood up. He glared at the active Cosondere then looked around for any more.

  The braided Sentar’i took deep breaths before the circle on his hand glowed blue again. Soon after, he vanished again.

  The blonde Tyroviv shifted focus to her Cosondere colleague. Quin finally made it to his feet as she approached him.

  “You don’t have to push yourself,” she told him. “Help has arrived.”

  “Yes I do,” Quin responded in his slow limp over to Yach. “That man over there. He needs a healer right now. I have to take him to one right now.”

  The Tyroviv looked ahead to the fallen Yerp then back to Quin.

  “There’s a gathering near our tower by the entrance,” she pointed. “A bunch of people. That’s probably where your friend can get some help.”

  Quin groaned in pain as he crouched to pick up Yach. Though the man was unresponsive, Quin didn’t want to accept the worst.

  He looked over to the blonde Tyroviv. She already ran off, likely to assist anyone else. It was time he departed as well.

  At first, he tried to hop his way over to the entrance tower but the act itself as well as the additional weight he carried put a huge strain on his already sore back.

  He elected to run instead and moved as fast as his body allowed.

  The scene appeared to calmed down at last. The fires had been extinguished but dilapidated buildings stood on nearly every block he saw.

  Other Tyrovivs raced up and down the streets. He saw no fights nor any signs of a physical struggle. It seemed like the worst came to an end.

  Just as the Tyroviv told him, a congregation formed right by the entrance. Lanterns and glow posts littered the area and shed some light of the devastation.

  As the fires dwindled, so did Quin’s adrenaline. The night air felt much cooler than earlier and almost gave him the shivers. Bright lights showed him all the cold and tired residents.

  Despair bore out on many of their faces. People huddled with each other. Consoled each other. Cried with each other.

  Their expressions changed briefly whenever Quin walked by. He could hear their mumbles behind him. Faint talks about a cloak. No other Cosondere could be seen. He may have been the only one in the area.

  For a while it seemed like Quin just roamed around the horde. His eyes then spotted an older lady in a white and green robe with a green cap as they lent their shoulder as a napkin.

  Without a second thought he rushed over to the individual.

  “Excuse me. You’re part of the Shanli right?” he asked. “You’re a mender right? A soul artist?”

  “Yes. Yes I am.”

  “Can you please heal this man please? He’s in really bad shape. One of the Black Nails. They threw that...please help him.”

  Quin gently lay Yach on the ground as the mender tended to him. The lady only needed a second before she looked up at the worried Tyroviv and shook her head.

  “What does that mean?” Quin pressed. “You’re a soul artist. Just use your soul arts to help him. Please.”

  The lady simply stared. She used her countenance to send the bad news.

  It was Quin’s turn to shake his head.

  “Come on. You didn’t do anything. Is it because he’s a Yerp? Are you just going to leave him because he’s a Yerp?!”

  People nearby turned their attention to the developing scene and the erratic Sentar’i that started it.

  The lady rose up at and linked sights with Quin.

  Her words were short.

  “I’m sorry. It’s too late.”

  “Wh...wai...wh...he was just talking to me minutes ago. He showed up to me. He...he...”

  The mender gave a light pat on Quin’s shoulder before she stepped away.

  He slumped down beside Yach. He raised his mask and revealed the stress shock and sorrow of the news: Yach was dead.

  The man was right there, Quin thought. “Is that you?” were his last words. Seemingly innocuous. Not at all ominous. Yet they were the man’s final words. The man had departed.

  Quin laid two fists on Yach’s torso. His eyes closed and his head lowered. All he could hear were his own breaths.

  He should have kept his mask on, he realized, but Yach wouldn’t have ran up to any Cosondere, he understood. He should have just yelled out Yach’s name, Quin stewed, but the sight of his face should have helped, he thought.

  “What was I supposed to do?” Quin whispered as his head tucked closer to Yach. “What was I supposed to do?”

  The folks nearby couldn’t keep their attention away for long.

  They mumbled among themselves once more while they took in the view of a Cosondere in apparent grief...over a Yerp. Their expressions became more sympathetic.

  Soon, an answer popped into Quin’s head: strength. Strength could have put an end to his fight sooner. Strength could have brought Yach to a mender sooner.

  The pace of Quin’s breaths increased as the answer became more obvious. It only grew so obvious because it looped around in his head over and over.

  Quin lifted his sights and there to look back at him was an older man. He stared sternly with no change in expression.

  A cap and mustache with a bright colored shirt. Quin couldn’t discern anything else about him before he suddenly took his leave.

  Arty and Mier finally made their way through the sea of people as they spotted a recognizable face. One second and one look immediately answered their questions.

  The old chronicler slowly nodded his head. His mouth opened and closed; no words were spoken. His younger associate shifted his eyes away. The sight no doubt forever etched itself into his brain.

  No words were uttered between the three yet they shared the same subject and the same thoughts.

  As people walked by, focused on their own priorities, the three made their silent mourns. The man’s life had earned him that much.