The sword did not wait, parting the air with impossible speed.
Covered in thick robes, their inky darkness sucking in Solara's grace. Each of the attackers stood taller than the Genius, but fell short of Argon. Wide limbs covered in a disturbingly similar colour of human skin.
The pair couldn't quite put a finger on it, but the handful of assailants did not fit right.
The plain wooden masks didn't help either, turning them uniform and emotionless.
The incoming sword went directly for the Genius, the wide blade plummeting from above.
Argon's steel spear met it, parrying to the side.
A dozen trinkets lay scattered across the floor, from spools of rope to glass flasks that formed an intricate maze for those fighting to navigate.
With a shallow ring, a rapier pierced the attacker's throat, quick and precise. Ignoring the steel lodged in his throat, the man took a few steps forwards still swiping, before falling to his knees.
"One down." The Genius counted. Having narrowly dodged the last ditch effort.
"Only four more to go." Argon echoed.
Stepping between the obstacles before them, the four masked men made a measured way foward, ignoring the faint danger that lay beneath.
"An advantage."
"I'll defend you, focus on surviving, boy."
The swords, more like cleavers, swiped at them from all angles.
But each and every swipe was met with the steel tip of Argon's spear.
"Impressive."
"You learn how to make do in the wilds."
Slowly, the duo were pushed back.
Behind the attackers, the dying man clutched his throat, green blood spewing through his grasp.
Argon's breathing grew heavy, burdened with defending while outnumbered.
Just as his spear raised to meet a blow head on-
"He's feinting."
Trusting the voice to his back, his spear flew outwards, relying on range alone to push the green blooded attackers away.
"Hah... Not useless after all."
It didn't take long before two more cleavers swung from opposite angles, aiming to disect the giant man in half.
"Left."
Argon's spear spun, blade met blade, while his back stood wide open.
A shape slipped through the gap the spear had left behind.
Not slowed. Not hesitant.
One of them had seen it.
The wooden mask filled the Genius' vision in an instant, blank and close, far too close. The cleaver rose, not with fury, but with a quiet certainty.
The Genius stepped back.
Too slow.
His heel caught on scattered rope. Balance broke for a fraction of a second, just enough to send a flask rolling forward.
For the first time, the Genius did not speak.
The blade came down.
Crack
The sound of glass shattering widened Argon's eyes.
A body landed heavily on the stone pavement a heart beat later, prompting a swift stab from the Genius.
The body stayed down.
With a wide swing, the spear chased away the rabid attackers, a moment of respite was all Argon needed.
"Two left," Argon had begun to grin his signature cheeky smile. "On your feet, lad." He chimed, dragging the Genius to his feet by his collar, away from the shards of glass literring the ground.
Just in time for the remainder to surge forward.
Argon's eyes sharpened.
"…Sloppy."
The first came in wide, cleaver dragging slightly, the weight misjudged. The strike came a fraction too low.
Argon didn't just retreat, he stepped in.
The shaft of his spear slammed into the attacker's wrist, snapping the swing off-course before the blade could rise again.
His other arm moved without thought, catching the Genius by the shoulder and pulling him just out of reach of the second strike.
Not to reposition.
To protect.
The second attacker faltered.
Only for a moment.
But it was enough.
"They're overcommitting," the Genius said, voice quick now, alive with clarity. "Their reach-no, their balance is wrong."
The masked figure stumbled over a half-step that should have been clean.
Argon saw it.
And this time, he didn't aim to kill.
He planted himself between them.
A wall.
The cleaver struck.
Steel rang.
The force shuddered through his arms, but he did not yield.
"Now," he commanded.
The Genius moved.
No hesitation. No delay.
The rapier slipped through the opening Argon had made, precise and unforgiving, sliding between ribs and into something vital. The attacker jerked once, then went still.
One left.
It did not charge.
It stood there.
Head tilting once more, its hand rose.
Slowly, the sleeve slipped.
And for the briefest moment the illusion faltered.
Green.
Thick. Coarse. Wrong.
Inhuman.
Argon's grip tightened.
"…Orcs."
The creature let out a low curse, voice thick with... Regret.
Then it lunged.
Too wide.
Too slow.
Argon didn't even think.
His spear struck first, knocking the blade aside, and for a heartbeat, he considered ending it.
A clean thrust.
A quick kill.
But he did not, instead he redirected.
Opening a safer path.
The Genius stepped through it like it had always been his.
Silver flashed.
A throat opened.
Green spilled, then the body dropped.
Silence followed.
"...So. How common are orcs in human strongholds?" Argon broken the silence, already gathering the scattered supplies.
The fight did not take long, but a crowd was already building. He could already hear steel-clad boots marching closer from the distance, and the smell of blood clouded the once inticing air.
"Unheard of." The Genius was searching for something among the orc corpses, their mirage quickly disappearing in the wind. "A Trojan horse?"
"Trojan? Never heard of that breed."
"Nevermind. How they entered can wait. Quick, let's move before we get stuck answering questions until Solara rises. "
"My name is Slyas, by the way."
Argon snorted, hoisting the pack onto his shoulder.
"Only took a poisoning and a near-death fight."
He glanced back once, at the bodies already losing their human shape.
"…You've got terrible timing."