Borschmack tripped forward.

  His massive frame slammed into the ground, the impact tearing a crater into the ground. Dust and fractured stone burst outward in a violent ring.

  What’s wrong with him?

  I rushed forward and dropped to one knee beside him. “Are you alright?!”

  Borschmack coughed and spat out blood, the dark red staining the broken ground. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yes... I just took more damage than I expected.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. “No way. You beat him cleanly.”

  Without answering, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bottle of Surge. The bottle had only half of the liquid left. He held it loosely in his grip, as if weighing its worth.

  He pushed himself up onto one knee. “I only took a swig. If I fought him at my normal strength, I would’ve lost for sure.”

  I adjusted my glasses, the frames clicking softly as my fingers tightened. “You couldn’t match his strength? You were supposed to be on par with him!”

  Borschmack stood fully and began walking down the street as though nothing had happened.

  I quickly followed at his left side, then stepped ahead of him and turned, walking backward to face him. “If he decides to continue fighting after safeguarding his wife, it’d be big trouble!”

  He shot me a sharp glare. “No. His false vision of me will stop him. Even the Demon Buddha has limits.”

  I twiddled my fingers absentmindedly, wire sliding between them like a living thing. “I’m not ruling out that he’ll come back. His loyalty to Leo is unmatched.”

  His jaw tightened. “And what about yours to Toda and Tektite? Men you knew and worked for for years?”

  That look—cold, tribal—was terrifying in a way only Borschmack could manage.

  “Don’t get me wrong.” I said carefully. “I cared for them. But only as much as you would for close business associates. You grew with him, not me. I was always out on duty.”

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  Then I felt it.

  A pressure. Dense. Focused.

  Someone powerful was nearby.

  Down the alley.

  Borschmack felt it too.

  Without warning, something moved—no, smashed—into the corner of the concrete building to our left. The structure groaned violently as a massive force tore through it. Part of the wall collapsed inward, debris scattering across the alley, but the building itself remained standing.

  What it revealed made my breath hitch.

  A chest. A human chest. Broad.

  He was roughly the same height as Borschmack. There was only one man it could be.

  The One-Man Army. Atlas.

  He bent slightly as he stepped through the ruin. “Ah.” he said pleasantly, “I was right.”

  Then he casually uppercut the corner of the building.

  The concrete exploded upward, debris launching dozens of meters into the air. Dust and stone rained down as the remaining wall vanished entirely, leaving him fully exposed.

  Red plaid shirt. Black pants. A golden ring on his hand.

  The ring marked his clan—much like Obsidian’s purple rock. But his was custom-made. Squires bore a squire’s engraving. Heroes bore a hero’s engraving.

  Atlas’s ring bore a champion’s engraving.

  The strongest hero.

  Borschmack waved lightly. “Been a while since we fought.”

  Atlas cracked his knuckles and shadowboxed, fists cutting through the air. “It was a great time. Four years ago now?”

  He turned his body and threw a single downward punch.

  The wind pressure alone blasted through the alley, forcing me back several steps. Even Borschmack had to dig his feet into the ground, reinforced, to remain standing.

  To generate that much force without contact, he had to be at least equal to Borschmack in strength.

  What made that terrifying... was that Atlas wasn’t known for his strength. He was an all-rounder.

  Atlas spat to the side. “It’s not Surge, if you’re wondering. By the way, you did a good job helping its creation. It will save many innocents from dying.”

  Borschmack handed me the Surge bottle.

  I stared at it.

  I don’t think it will be enough.

  Borschmack suddenly smacked me hard between the shoulders, launching me forward. I stumbled and landed at the front of the alley. “He will fight you.”

  What?!

  Atlas smiled. “The Bloody Wire?"

  I could see a vein rise to the surface on his forehead, "I wanted to fight you, Borschmack. This runt won’t last a second.”

  Borschmack turned and began walking away. “If that's the case, kill him. And if you catch up to me, I’ll fight you.”

  This is your way of making me pay for my apathy, isn’t it?

  Atlas slid his hands into his pockets, still smiling. “Sorry, Bloody Wire. Leo promised me the chance to save innocents. And even if I don’t like Sun, their citizens did nothing wrong.”

  He winked. “And if you think about it, you’ve killed innocents—and will continue doing so—so maybe this ain’t so bad.”

  His presence shifted.

  Killing intent poured out of him like a hammer, crushing the air, stripping warmth from the alley. “Time to save the world.”

  I released my own killing intent in response and snapped into guard, fists tightening, wire drawn taut and steady. Sweat beaded down my spine, and I hoped—desperately—that he wouldn’t notice.

  My darksteel wires gleamed faintly, catching the thin slice of sunlight that reached into the alley.

  “You're too self-righteous.” I said quietly.

  “Even kids don't call themselves heroes with as much sincerity as you.”