"You. Help him."

The warrior followed Moon’s command without question. Rising from the rubble and picking his two axes without a word.

Then he turned toward Kael’s fight, nothing on his face suggesting he was being controlled. His body was in good fighting condition.

Staring at his puppet approaching Kael, Moon raised his voice to notify the redhead. "Kael. Use him as you wish."

Kael’s head snapped around. His eyes widened when he saw the warrior approaching. He recognized him as one of the men that had attacked Moon earlier. Kael couldn’t understand the method, but he was grateful.

Moon had removed a great deal of hardship from his shoulders.

Kael’s mouth opened, then closed. The warrior crashed into the two mages before Kael’s questions could form. He nodded once toward Moon, and turned back to his own attackers.

The warrior was already tearing into them from the side, drawing their attention and their attacks. Kael’s fire redirected, exploiting the opening.

The engagement flipped in seconds.

Moon glanced away from Kael’s fight, his eyes landing on the four puppets rising slowly around him.

After copying The Witch of Charm’s class, Moon had placed certain boundaries on the Curse skill. He had decided against using it on humans because of how despicable the skill was. It stripped humans of the most important thing they had. Free will.

Without free will, humans were akin to animals. So Moon had only used the skill on beasts so far.

But when it came to scum like the ones standing before him, Moon didn’t hesitate to strip them of their free will. Their will bred nothing but corruption. They were his enemies, and mercy wasn’t something he showed to enemies.

The four puppets straightened one by one.

Nothing about them had changed. The tallest one, a broad-shouldered man with a scar running from his ear down into his collar, rolled his neck once and let his blade hang loose at his side, the way he had when he was still his own person.

Moon looked past them.

Nine more men stood on the far side of the clearing. Half of them were still in mid-stance. A dozen Evolver bodies lay near their feet, blood pooling around them, eyes hollow and open.

Their leader, a wiry man with a red sash tied across his chest, had gone still with his blade half-drawn. He was staring at the four elites on Moon’s side with a bewildered look.

He couldn’t understand how Moon had managed to take control of four of their elites.

Moon met his eyes across the rubble.

The wiry man’s fingers tightened on his hilt.

"You... what did you do to them?"

Moon didn’t answer.

He nodded once toward his puppets and the four moved together.

"Kill them." Moon said coldly, walking toward the nine men closing in.

The four puppets moved as one, crossing the rubble in a wide sweep. The nearest three enemies barely had time to change stances before the puppets crashed into them.

Their weapons clashed, sparks flying across four engagements at once.

Moon walked past them. His eyes locked on the leader of the group.

The wiry man with the red sash did not move from his position. His half-drawn blade came free of its scabbard in a smooth motion. He watched Moon approach without moving to meet him, letting the boy close the distance on his own terms.

Moon stopped six paces from him.

Eye of Truth resolved.

[Class: Bladebound]

[Order: Second]

[Skills: Blade Master , Blade Aura , Sharp Slash , Quick Step ]

’He has four skills only...?’

The aura Moon felt from the man was terrifying. He was at the pinnacle of the Evolver rank; he didn’t have the distinct aura that differentiated Surpassers from Evolvers.

The man was probably one acupoint away from being a Surpasser, held back by the difficulty of finding a Sacred-rank spirit manual.

Everything about him screamed Surpasser potential wasted at the last step. His body was built for it. He had the framework of a true Surpasser and none of the connection to the River of Paths that made Surpassers actually dangerous.

Which meant he had raw physical strength likely on par with a low-tier Surpasser.

An Evolver body wearing a Surpasser’s flesh.

The wiry man’s gaze dropped to Moon’s sword.

His mouth pulled into a slow grin.

"That’s a nice blade you have there. You don’t see many boys your age carrying something that clean." He rolled his shoulders. "I’ll take it off your body when we’re done."

Moon didn’t answer.

The man moved and the distance between them vanished.

His blade came in snapping, aimed at Moon’s temple in a horizontal cut that skipped every wind-up a normal fighter would have used.

Moon’s sword rose to meet it and the two edges crashed together with a force that rocked Moon’s shoulder in its socket.

His feet slid backward across the rubble.

’Physical strength of a Surpasser.’

The man pressed forward, executing two more strikes that came in the same second, both at angles Moon barely tracked.

He parried the first with his sword, stepped inside the second and let it slide past his ribs, close enough to feel the wind of it. His off hand snapped up and lightning burst from his palm at point-blank range.

The wiry man twisted his head.

The bolt grazed his cheek, rather than his throat, which was the main target.

He grunted but kept moving.

A small burnt cut opened up across his cheek, but his eyes stayed focused.

Whoosh!

His sword came around again, sweeping for Moon’s legs.

Moon leapt back, only to find the wiry man pressing him again.

Cling!

Moon’s blade dropped to meet the second attack, and steel scraped against steel in a long grinding push before the wiry man broke the contact and stepped in for a thrust.

Moon twisted, the sharp tip barely missing his chest by an inch, but still drawing a shallow line across his upper arm.

Blood ran down his sleeve.

The wiry man laughed, pleased with the sight of Moon’s blood.

"There it is. The first cut."