"Thereon!" Albrecht shouted, adrenaline surging through him as his feet moved across the cobblestone.

  "Don't block his next attack! No matter what!"

  Thereon gave a quick nod, a dry, amused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

  If Albrecht had the time to properly see his face, he would've noticed something rare—something almost out of place.

  Thereon looked… intrigued.

  And not just that. There was a flicker of pride in his eyes, buried beneath the usual sarcasm and composure, like a teacher seeing the spark of potential in a student for the very first time.

  It was not because Albrecht had fought well—he truly hadn't.

  It also wasn't because he'd shown skill—that was actually impossible since he had none.

  Instead, it was because he had taken the initiative and released what Thereon had been doing.

  To an observer, it would've been obvious. One attacker hadn't moved at all. The other had slowed, hesitated—his strikes dulled by something unseen.

  But Albrecht was in the middle of it. Fighting for the first time, no less. Heart pounding, blood rushing, every instinct screaming at him to survive.

  And even then—he had calmly analyzed the situation.

  He didn't just focus on his own movements or the opponent in front of him. He looked beyond the immediate. He read his surroundings.

  Thereon's smile deepened—not just with amusement, but with interest.

  He was impressed, yes… but more than that, he was curious.

  'Is he really going to do it?' he thought.

  He watched closely, his eyes narrowing slightly. Not because he was worried—no, he could step in at any time—but because he wanted to see just how far Albrecht was willing to go.

  Because if Albrecht was about to do what Thereon suspected…

  Then, he wasn't just bold. He was insane.

  The good kind of insane. The rare kind—the kind that made great warriors, terrifying leaders, or absolute monsters.

  And right now, Thereon wasn't sure which one he was looking at.

  But he was eager to find out.

  The mace came in low and fast, aiming once again for Albrecht's already bruised ribs.

  But this time, Albrecht didn't dodge.

  He gritted his teeth and stepped into the strike.

  Now, there was no going back.

  The heavy steel head of the mace arced through the air, and at the very last possible moment—just before it would crush bone and tear through flesh—Albrecht raised his left arm.

  Pain shot through his entire body as the impact landed. His forearm screamed, bones straining to the brink, muscles tearing from the force. It was like trying to stop a wrecking ball with a bundle of sticks.

  But just as the blow made contact, he activated Mirrorbound.

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  A soft flicker pulsed through Albrecht's mind like a taut thread being pulled.

  The worst of the damage shifted away, siphoned through the unseen tether that connected him to another world. To Earth. His home.

  His arm didn't shatter—but it bent dangerously, sickeningly. The bone creaked, and the skin tore in places. Blood trickled down his fingers.

  But it held.

  Just barely.

  At first, Albrecht had considered timing Mirrorbound perfectly—taking the initial blow and activating the ability a split-second before the damage turned catastrophic. That had been the idea.

  But he dismissed it almost immediately.

  The timing was too precise, too narrow. At his current level, with no training and no second chance, it was simply impossible. One misstep and his arm wouldn't just be broken—it would be almost gone.

  So, instead, he tried something else.

  He controlled Mirrorbound—not completely, but just enough. He didn't shift the entire blow to another realm. Instead, he let some of the force pass through. The damage remained partially in his body.

  Just enough to keep it real and make it look like he'd taken the hit. Just enough to keep his ability hidden.

  The pain was real. The blood was real.

  And unfortunately, so was the strain on his mind.

  He had hoped that by only partially activating Mirrorbound, the mental burden would be lighter.

  It wasn't.

  The pressure clawed at his skull just the same, fuzzing the edges of his vision and making his knees wobble.

  Clearly, Mirrorbound didn't scale gently. It was all or nothing when it came to the cost.

  So it was only worth doing in a situation like this, where had to hide the true extent of his ability.

  Wasn't that ironic?

  He trusted Thereon enough to risk his life on him—trusted him to save him if this went sideways.

  But he didn't trust him with his secret.

  'Well, it's not like he won't have any suspicions,' Albrecht thought.

  Thereon was no fool. He was a trained swordsman, so he would know that something was off, that the hit hadn't landed the way it should have.

  Albrecht was sure of it.

  So if questions came, he'd be ready. He could say it was a minor ability. Something that reduced physical damage by half. Maybe add a long cooldown, say a week or so—enough to sound plausible.

  That way, he wouldn't appear threatening. Just… useful.

  Because the last thing he needed was for his savior to become suspicious. Or worse, wary of him.

  But he also had to consider that maybe not everyone had an ability like him. Maybe it was something only for Outsiders…

  At the very least, Heinz had never mentioned anything like special abilities during his explanation.

  'Perhaps I should have asked him about it. '

  It didn't matter now.

  What mattered was simple: Albrecht had taken the hit and survived.

  The mace-wielder stared at him, eyes wide in disbelief. He hadn't expected that. Almost no one would've. His expression flickered, shock giving way to hesitation.

  He tried to step back.

  Too late.

  Albrecht's left hand shot forward, grabbing hold of the mace's shaft, locking it in place. His grip was tight. Unyielding.

  In a usual contest of strength, Albrecht would loose nine out of ten times, but currently, his opponent was in shock.

  With a pained snarl, Albrecht raised the sword in his right hand and thrust it forward, aiming slightly upward.

  Steel pierced flesh.

  The man gurgled, stumbling.

  Blood sprayed from the wound, a thick crimson arc.

  But Albrecht didn't stop.

  He wrenched the blade free with a ragged breath—and drove it in again.

  A second, more forceful thrust, this time pushing deeper. Right through the throat.

  The man collapsed, his weapon clattering uselessly to the ground.

  Silence followed.

  Albrecht stood over him, chest heaving, blood dripping from his hands. With trembling fingers, he let go of Thereon's sword. It clanged against the cobblestone, echoing through the empty street.

  He had done it.

  Not cleanly. Not with grace. The wound wasn't instant, nor was it merciful.

  The man suffered, twitching on the cobblestones, choking on the blood that filled his throat.

  A wet gurgle escaped his lips, eyes wide with confusion, pain, and a fading spark of something terribly human.

  He didn't die right away.

  It took half a minute.

  Thirty seconds of slow, drowning agony.

  And yet… it was done.

  Albrecht had killed a man for the first time.