The voice belonged to a tall Seidren wearing a rich robe. The manasign above his head showed him as Rock Seidren, two tiers above Sand Seidren. This Seidren was at the second to last stage in the earth arc, and Tirren hadn’t even stepped into it. Tirren’s body stumbled away in surprise. Ivarmarktarius had never lost a fight. Granted he had only fought Sand-Seidren. Tirren almost dared to hope that the demon had a chance.

  The Rock Seidren moved towards Tirren at an unreal speed. As he was only a passenger in his own body, Tirren shoved force mana out of his feet, then used it to throw himself backwards. He hit something behind him, where previously it had been the space of the hallway, and there was the sound of breaking glass. Pain from his back. Tirren withdrew, allowing Ivarmarktarius a chance to fight uninhibited.

  Tirren had stumbled back through a pane of glass which hadn't been there before. The Rock-tier Seidren came forward, and a clear blade was in his hand. It looked like glass. Tirren’s boot knife was in his hand, blocking the blow. The blow was blocked and the glass knife broke, but the Rock Siedren was whipping his jagged remainder around, and he scored a long gash across Tirren’s chest. Part of the cut sliced open a pocket, and gold coins spilled across the hallway.

  Another backwards step landed against a pane of glass. It seemed the man had created the pane while fighting. The guard kicked Tirren through the pane of glass. Shards of glass aspect mana were everywhere, and Tirren landed hard on the shards, the glass breaking skin in numerous locations. His opponent threw his glass knife in a short spin in the air, obviously enjoying himself, and toying with Tirren.

  The man lifted his arm to throw his glass knife, and Ivarmarktarius gave control back to Tirren.

  YOU NEED MORE STRENGTH. BEG FOR YOUR LIFE.

  Time seemed to slow as Tirren watched that smug Seidren face. Pain, however, did not slow and it was a constant reminder of Tirren’s abused soul. The knife flew forward, and TIrren scrabbled at anything he could get his hands on. He cut his hand numerous times on the broken glass mana which carpeted the hallway. He came on a gold coin, and nothing else.

  The knife slammed into his unwounded thigh, breaking off, leaving a sharp piece of glass mana in his leg. Another knife appeared in the gloating Seidren’s hand.

  In his mind, his aspects clicked.

  The prizefighter. Tirren fought, and he fought for money.

  The one who kept fighting. Tirren would keep fighting and he always needed to hit harder.

  The golden child. Tirren was from the land of plenty, raised in a rich… no a golden land. He excelled above all other Seidren his whole life. He was praised for being the golden standard of Seidren in Serventis.

  Golden force.

  Tirren took that gold coin in his hand and he closed his palm, crushing the coin. The dual aspects of gold and force manifested in front of him, and they rushed along his mana pathway towards his heart, and the mana well that lay behind it.

  The ambient mana inside Tirren’s mana well was transmuted, changing as Tirren himself changed. His mana became golden force mana. There was a muted thump felt on a spiritual level, and Tirren shot to his feet from the surge of energy which coursed through him, his spirit reborn. The mana channels that had been so freshly sore were solidified as Tirren’s own spirit became a little more metallic, and a little more forceful. A glass knife came towards his heart, and he stuck an instinctive hand out, shoving mana out defensively.

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  He braced for impact, but was amazed as the knife landed on a plane of golden mana which was held in front of Tirren. Tirren had manifested Golden Mana in front of him. It had taken a large portion of his mana well, but the attack hadn’t landed. Tirren stared in mute fascination at the small shield he had manifested which had saved his life. The shield immediately began to sublimate to ambient mana. The more perfect a manifestation, the longer it would last.

  GOLD? THAT ASPECT IS CLOSE TO FELLISH ONES. IT WILL DO.

  Tirren ceded control of his limbs as felt the demon reach for them. Then he watched in fascination.

  THIS IS A MANA BOMB. IT IS A CLASSICAL SEIDREN TACTIC. FORM A BALL OF FOCUSED MANA, BUT WITH INHERENT FLAWS. IT SHOULD DETONATE.

  A ball of golden light appeared between Tirren’s hands. It was formed in a short second, and Tirren knew that this focus was something it would take him years to master. The demon knew how to fight.

  He threw the mana bomb toward the other Seidren, and caught a couple attacks with the small shield Tirren had created. The demon’s mastery of fighting was truly terrifying. Tirren had studied the art of combat recreationally, then seriously for several years. He understood that he was quite proficient.

  However, seeing the demon fight, Tirren realized his own lack of ability, and what mastery looked like. He realized for a short second that the monster was fighting within the limits of Tirren’s natural abilities. Tirren could fight like this if he only knew how. He burned with the desire even as he watched a demon defy all odds.

  In Tirren’s mind, a Sand Seidren should never have had a chance against a rock Seidren, even one with a combat-adjacent aspect such as glass. Tirren knew this on a fundamental level. He could see the reaction time of the Rock Seidren was faster, he was stronger, and he had access to mana which was superior to Tirren’s.

  The mana bomb went off, blowing glass and the enemy Seidren away in a spectacular explosion. Glass panels across the room were blown backwards. Tirren advanced on the enemy, catching attacks with his small shield, and punching through glass panes which were manifested in the way.

  The Rock Seidren was retreating towards the window now. He clearly failed to understand why he was retreating from such a weak Seidren, but the progression to Sand Tier had thrown him off, and Tirren fought with all the momentum. After seeing the boy progress to Sand Seidren, it had turned into a strange turn of events. The boy fought like a man possessed.

  Blood covered almost every inch of the young Seidren, and he pushed through pane after pane, coming towards the Glass aspect Seidren. He was relentless, and finally, Tirren tackled the Seidren, hitting the outer window. They fell together, crashing through the window and down two stories to the street, Tirren atop the Rock Seidren. A metallic gauntlet was formed of golden mana so that it covered Tirren’s hand and he smashed it down upon his opponent again, and again.

  Horrified, Tirren tried with all of his might to take over. He finally wrested control of himself back, but not before Ivarmarktarius had managed to land several blows.

  Tirren was in pain everywhere. His spirit continued to scream in silent agony, and now he had a laundry list of cuts, stabs, and other wounds to add to it. He stumbled away, barely mindful of the still form behind him in the road. He ran away, hoping to avoid capture, and his muddled mind couldn’t help but question. “How did Ivarmarktarius prepare for and perform a heist in less than 12 hours?”

  Tirren looked behind himself, he realized that he was leaving a trail of blood behind him. It was dark, but occasional patrols were out on the street, and Tirren checked each intersection of the road to ensure that he avoided them. In Najer, the neighborhoods got more affluent and pretty as they climbed the face of the mountain. Tirren was quite high up, though he could see the red sand coliseum, which was the lowest coliseum in the city. He found an ornamental steam, and washed himself as best he could, before sneaking back.

  To his own surprise, he made his way back to his rooms. He bound the more serious injuries on his body, and then lay down, utterly exhausted. As he lay there, bleeding quietly on his bed his mind thought of what he, or at least his body had done. His demon would quickly get him killed. Tirren needed more power of his own.