-----Narrator POV-----
Geese scanned the others as they took their positions, watching each settle into the roles that had carried them through the continent's worst quests. Crowds had parted for them in every city; guild clerks had straightened when their names appeared on a request sheet. Those moments felt distant now as the man ahead stepped forward and the air tightened around them.
Agnar's fingers closed on the broadsword and his forearms pulled taut as he dropped into stance. Thorek's boots scraped the stone while he planted and raised the mace behind his shield in a single practiced motion. Frug drew his throat pouch in and snapped his hands into position over the half‑formed spell. The priest let his charms rattle and steadied his palms as the faint shimmer between them flared.
"Brace yourselves."
The man moved. His foot struck the stone and the floor answered with a thin crack; the space between them vanished in a single step. Their eyes tracked him and every detail stretched into slow motion while their bodies lagged, muscles firing too late to match what they saw.
He slipped between Agnar and Thorek before either could shift their weight; their heads turned to follow him while their feet stayed a beat behind.
Orsted extended his arm with a flat palm aimed at Frug's eyes. His hand stopped a breath away and a ring of light snapped into place, hexagons locking together in front of Frug and the girl. The light hummed and the air tightened along its edge. Orsted's fist met the shield. A shock of wind snapped outward and pushed dust across the floor. Cloaks snapped and hair lifted as the gust rolled through the hall.
Agnar's broadsword and Thorek's mace came down in the same heartbeat, both weapons cutting the air toward Orsted's back. Orsted pivoted on a single smooth step and the blades passed so close their edges whispered against his clothes. He slid to Thorek's flank in one motion and his leg rose in a clean arc. Thorek snapped his shield into place and the metal plate met the kick with a ringing clang. The strike drove through the guard, lifted the dwarf off his feet, and sent him backward. Agnar stepped forward and caught him midair as his boots ground against the stone.
Orsted twisted and brought his forearm across his side; the water jet struck metal and sprayed in a tight sheet. The impact shoved him sideways and his feet dragged across the floor until he slammed his heel down and stopped. He pushed off the planted foot and slipped sideways, the stream cutting through the space he had just left and scattering grit from the seams. He shifted his weight forward, legs coiling, eyes fixed on Frug.
A movement flashed at his flank. Agnar stepped in with a wide swing and the broadsword cut toward Orsted's ribs as a sharp shout tore from his throat. Orsted snapped both arms up and his forearms crossed as the blade struck them with a heavy impact that drove him backward and sent his heels skidding. His feet slid as he fought for balance while a blur moved at his side. Thorek stepped in with a tight arc and the mace whipped toward Orsted's ribs. Orsted drove his foot into the floor and slipped past the swing as the mace cut through the space beside him. Thorek let the mace's momentum carry him forward and his shield snapped up in a full‑body bash that slammed on orste'd shoulder.
Orsted used the impact to spin his body from the shield bash sliding past Thorek's flank, leaving the dwarf exposed. He drove a flat palm into the gap under Thorek's arm, aiming straight for the ribs. Light snapped between them and hexagons locked into a barrier as the impact struck. The collision pinned them both in place, their bodies braced against a gust that rolled outward from the contact.
Orsted shot a quick glance at the priest and caught the man with his arms stretched forward, sweat running down his face. He drove back into the offensive and his kick slammed into Thorek's shield, the metal ringing as the dwarf skidded backward and his boots ground across the stone. Orsted surged, hands and feet hammering into Thorkell's shield; the dwarf grunted under the pressure as gaps opened in his guard and each strike met the priest's light shield, which flared and snapped between them.
Thorkell slammed his shield into the floor and caught Orsted's strike on the rim, the impact throwing Orsted's rhythm off for a heartbeat. Agnar stepped through the gap and swung from behind Thorkell, the broadsword cutting in from Orsted's blind side, but Orsted caught the blade on his forearm with a grinding scrape of steel against his bracelet. He snapped a counter at Agnar's head; Agnar slipped under the blow and let the motion carry him forward as his broadsword rose in a sharp vertical arc.
Orsted slid sideways and knocked Agnar's rising blade off its line. The deflection yanked both men into a tight spin that finished with their positions reversed. Agnar snapped forward the instant the spin ended and drove the sword's hilt toward Orsted's core. Orsted seized the hilt with one hand and locked the man's free wrist with the other, then shifted his weight and drove his knee upward. Agnar tore his wrist free and staggered back; the sudden drop in distance let the knee sweep past his chest.
Orsted seized the opening. He slammed a fist into Agnar's broadsword; the steel shuddered under the blow and the force sent Agnar flying backward. The man skidded across the floor to regain his balance, and Orsted burst forward until he stood a breath from Agnar's face. Flustered, Agnar swung the broadsword at Orsted's torso. Orsted dropped low and the blade passed over him as he whipped a sweep across Agnar's shin. The crack of impact sent grit flying and tore the man's guard open.
Orsted surged up from the crouch and drove an uppercut into the exposed chin. The blow snapped Agnar's head back and lifted his heels. Orsted twisted on his heel and let momentum carry a spinning kick into Agnar's jaw. The strike snapped the head sideways and hurled him across the room; he crashed through the wall, stone and dust collapsing in his wake.
Geese flinched at the crash and the hall fell into a brittle silence as everyone tried to read the shape of what had just happened. For a beat the group stood frozen, Geese snapped out of it and spun toward the priest, jabbing a finger in the man's direction.
"Oi, you alcoholic idiot! Why didn't you cast support spell to Agnar?!"
The priest kept his palms forward and his eyes on Orsted.
"That bastard pushed Agnar out of my range..."
Geese's hand hung in the air and his breath hitched; slow footsteps drew his attention. He watched Orsted wipe the blood from his forearm with a thumb as the man approached, each step scraping the flagstone. The sight tightened something in Geese's chest and the question that had been forming slipped out in a thin whisper as his lips parted.
Can we win?
Thorkell planted his boots and raised his shield, the metal ringing as he set his weight. He straightened his stance and fixed his eyes on Orsted.
"GET IT TOGETHER!"
Geese felt the call like a shove and shifted his feet, fingers finding the tools at his belt as he readied himself for the next motion.
Orsted stepped forward and let his voice roll across the hall.
"There is no turning back now."
He drew power into his limbs and drove his palm into the shield; the contact sent a hollow boom through the chamber and a short gust snapped dust from the seams. Thorkell slid back a half step and locked both hands on the rim as his knees bent under the force; the straps groaned and the metal bit into his forearms.
Orsted leaned over the shield as Thorkell held it in place.
"You were blown away so easily before."
"Grhhmm..."
"Not that it matters."
He pulled his arm back and shifted his weight as his foot swept the floor. His kick struck the rim and sent the shield twisting sideways with a sharp, metallic snap. The straps screamed against Thorkell's forearms and the plate wrenched free, hauling at the dwarf's stance until his body folded under the force. Thorkell's cry cut the air as his guard opened and his feet slid. Orsted stepped into the gap and drew power through his frame; veins rose on his forehead as he drove his fist into the light barrier around Thorkell. The barrier cracked and shattered in a spray of fractured light. The priest buckled to his knees behind him, a smear of blood at his lip.
Thorkell slammed the switch on his armor and watched the plates bloom over his frame, metal locking into a dark knight silhouette. The surge pushed through his limbs and he shoved off the floor, dashing at Orsted. His fist shot in a straight line for Orsted's face. Orsted dropped his weight and let the punch pass over his head while he drove his own fist upward. Thorkell caught the strike on his gauntlet and twisted his hips to send a sharp swing at Orsted's chin. The blow skimmed past; Orsted shoved the arm aside with a short deflection and snapped a kick toward Thorkell's abdomen. Thorkell dropped his elbow and took the kick on reinforced plate. Both men slid back, boots skidding grit from the seams, and reset their footing as the hall held its breath.
"As always… Your family armor is a fine piece of dwarven craft, Thorkell Da Oakens."
Thorkell's shoulders rose and fell as he breathed through his teeth. The strain in his injured arm crawled through the plates with every motion.
"Now playtime is over."
Orsted blurred from the dwarf's sight as his form slipped out of view. Thorkell twisted his shoulders with a sharp motion; time seemed to stretch and a fist filled his vision in the last few centimeters. Now. He triggered the stored force in his armor and the plates released their built‑up energy. His body shot forward in a single, violent burst and vanished from the point of impact, reappearing behind Orsted with a sweeping leg aimed at the back.
Orsted moved as if he had traced the motion before it formed. His elbow drove into Thorkell's core and stopped the dwarf's advance with a hard jolt. He stepped through the opening and his fist rose, striking the front of the armor. The plates buckled under the force; Thorkell's body lifted and sailed across the room. He slammed into the wall with a heavy crash and stone fragments rained down around him.
Orsted turned toward the frogfolk as its hand tightened on Nanahoshi's neck and sweat rolled down her jaw. He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head, scanning the room, when a burst of light flared at his flank and forced him to twist.
The beam struck his side and hurled him across the chamber. His back slammed into a supporting pillar and cracks spidered through the stone. The pillar gave way and rubble tumbled down, burying his frame under a shower of dust. At the far end of the beam, the priest knelt with his palms forward, breath coming in hard pulls as he watched the place where the power had fired.
"I finally got him—"
"Not bad."
The voice cut through the priest's breath. He froze, eyes fixed on the sound, and the air at his neck tightened as realization slid over him.
"How—"
Orsted hand rose and flattened against the side of the priest's throat, fingers extending in a straight line. The strike stopped the priest's voice mid‑word. The man lost his balance and folded to the floor.
Orsted turned back to the frogfolk, which kept its posture rigid and its grip on Nanahoshi unbroken.
He walked forward with slow, measured steps as dust settled around his boots. He stopped in front of the creature and drew his arm back, his hand tightening like a loaded weapon. He looked at the frogfolk once more as it stood motionless.
"Die."
His arm shot forward and struck the frogfolk's upper torso as the force pushed through the body and lifted it from the ground. The frogfolk's head tilted back as a faint smile formed on its face. The halo above its head flickered as the vertical mark split and released a thin wave of mana that scattered into the air.
Nanahoshi slipped from the frogfolk's grip and fell toward the floor. Orsted caught her with both arms and held her against his chest as her body trembled. She clung to his clothes with weak fingers as her voice pushed out a single word.
"Baka..."
Her tears pressed into the fabric as Orsted kept his stance as he supported her weight.