Rowe laughed with anticipation. "You're exactly right. The moment the uncharted was mentioned, I couldn't have been more excited. It was perfect. You walk to your deaths without anyone knowing you were gone. They look for you, for days, for months, to never find your body. You should have been forgotten a long time ago, Stefan Jaegen."
"You're still not winning." Stefan flipped his sword. "Didn't I tell you before? You three aren't even enough for me. And we're in the uncharted, even better, I don't have to worry about cleaning your corpse."
"Huh, you're still that confident?"
"Always."
"I guess Harper really did raise someone special."
Stefan sharpened his eyes.
"There he is," Rowe sneered. "The real Stefan Jaegen. It's a shame I have to put her student down—"
"You're not going to get away with this!" Michael yelled.
"I wouldn't bet on that, boy," Rowe grinned again. "We led you pretty far in the uncharted. How long has it been? Hours of mindlessly walking into our trap? Give me a break, you're never going to win this."
Michael gritted his teeth.
Stefan stopped him from saying anything further. "So, what's it going to be? We fight or talk it out like some goodie adventurers that we are?"
"No, we're not going to fight," Rowe shook his head. "You're right, Stefan, we're no match for the child prodigy. That's why we're trying different measures."
Stefan's eyes widened. "You wouldn't—"
"I wouldn't? If it means driving you into the ground, I would do anything. I hate you Stefan Jaegen, we all do, and we would love watching you suffer for what you've done to the guild."
Stefan grabbed Michael's armor.
"Gut the boy."
They rushed towards him, the mage closing his distance and the rogue flanking from the side.
Stefan parried a flurry of attacks from Rowe, too blurry for Michael to understand what had happened. With one hand fending off attacks, he held the other clutching on the leather straps of Michael's armor.
Michael watched the incoming rogue dash, wielding both daggers.
Stefan swung his azure sword across hard, staggering Rowe back and spun around to face the rogue. He defended against the barrage of stabs, even missing a couple of attacks and endured some cuts on his arms. It was like he wasn't used to fighting against this unusual style.
Rowe closed in again, absolutely certain that Michael couldn't do anything as Stefan was already occupied in his fight.
Michael readied his sword in position, ready to trade a parry against him. Then he felt his entire body being spun again as Stefan flipped him around again, deflecting another slash from Rowe.
It was annoying that Stefan was trying to take this fight all for himself while actively trying to protect Michael. It was like his arrogance was just as strong as him.
The rogue pounced back again, recovering from his daze that Stefan left him.
Michael pried off Stefan's grip and dodged out of the way, ducking under the small thrust from the rogue. He heard Stefan shout his name but decided to ignore him. They were both going to fight, that was what Michael ultimately decided. He didn't care if these people had the upper hand because they unlocked their mana before him. He didn't care if they were taller or bigger than him.
If they threatened the bond between him and Evelyn, that was enough to consider them an enemy.
There was a sudden source of light, a wave of heat that washed over them. Michael watched them back away from him and Stefan and followed their glance.
The mage casted a fireball, shooting it forth towards the two standing together.
Michael surged towards the spell. He shouted as he swung his sword, cutting the fireball in half and turning it into a cloud of smoke.
Rowe grinned with satisfaction. It was a direct hit. There was no possible way that they could have defended against a fireball without any protective spells. But instead of a red mist and their flesh splattering across the trees, the smoke was grey like it was extinguished. A wave of confusion then concern washed over his face.
A sword thrusted through the smoke as Rowe quickly parried it. His eyes widened as Stefan emerged.
The mage couldn't believe it again, watching his jaw drop to the ground. Stefan or Michael weren't even mages nor knew any record of spellcasting. All they had were swords and still managed to survive a fireball that definitely hit them.
The rogue smacked his lips and rushed Michael again, minding that Rowe had a limited time until he was taken down by Stefan.
"You might've found some trick against spells," the rogue cackled. "But you ain't safe against steel!"
Michael tried to fight against his attacks. They were quick and small, even misjudging the length of his dagger. It was awkward trying to predict where he was aiming to strike. Michael tried to ignore the voice in his head as he found more cuts across his fingers and arms the longer they fought.
They weren't deep or threatening enough, Michael thought, if this rogue was faster than him then he needed to find another way to fight.
The voice in his head totally disagreed, trying to convince him from the risk he was trying to pull. But Michael didn't care, there was no other choice he had. These adventurers knew mana and Michael needed some way to compete against them.
The rogue started to back away, carefully moving around as he picked through Michael's strange defense.
All of a sudden, Michael didn't care if he was being cut. He slashed his sword wildly even if he was giving up his block. He was going to brute force his way to win.
The rogue inched back, weaving a heavy swing through his quick attacks. He studied Michael like he had gone crazy from the pain.
Michael's face wasn't even bothered by the cuts along his limbs yet he was moving like it didn't affect him. He didn't know how far they drifted away from Stefan. As long as Stefan could win his fight, Michael needed to stall enough time so he could rush over.
But he just ran, cutting his own fight away and headed straight for Stefan. If there was one person that Michael could definitely beat in Rowe's party, it was definitely the mage from before. His spirit must have been broken just by witnessing his spells become useless.
When he found Stefan, he was wrong. He thought Stefan would have been winning by the time that Michael had separated. But his clothes were scorched, streaked with grass, and sweat beaded from his head. Stefan wasn't immune to spells like Michael. Knowing that Rowe and his party knew how to cooperate, they must have come up with some kind of tactic to combat against Stefan.
Stefan inhaled and hovered his hand across his blade. Michael immediately ducked to the ground, knowing what was about to come.
Rowe snickered. "What the hell are you doing—"
"Wait!" the mage suddenly exclaimed. "He knows how to swordcast?!"
Stefan defiantly shouted and swung his sword, blasting a slash of mana outwards to them.
Michael heard their screams cut off as the heavy wave of mana swept over him. The sound had even shook the ground, trembling through his body like a violent tremor. He opened his eyes to the sharp smell of smoke, trees collapsing beside him as it charred from the burn. The swordcast had covered the entire area, almost like Stefan had poured the rest of his energy into a single slash.
Michael's ears were ringing but he could make out the shouts of his name being called. He felt the quick footsteps stop in front of him. He looked up to Stefan's hand reaching over.
Stefan's chuckle was rugged. "Kid, you are awesome."
Michael pulled himself up. "Do we get to head back now?"
"Yeah," he smacked Michael's shoulder. "Let's head back—"
"Not so damn fast!" a voice yelled from behind. "I said, you two aren't going anywhere!"