Ida’s stomach was halfway through forming into a diamond from the sheer pressure bearing down on it from all sides. She stood frozen in the alleyway, unable to move her feet as she watched the most insufferable dwarf she’d ever met stride confidently through the crowd toward the Infernal Armory.

Futures flashed through her mind in rapid-fire succession as she felt everything she’d spent the last twenty years of her life crumbling to dust around her. Not a single outcome she could imagine was good.

She wasn’t without ability of her own. Ida could fight — but she was no warrior. Trying to run out and take Gideon down would just end in humiliation at best. The only thing worse than watching her freedom vanish before her eyes would be getting carried on the bastard’s shoulders as he took it from her.

But if she did nothing, Ifrit was as good as dead. Gideon would slaughter him and destroy everything in his smithy… and Ida’s hopes would go up in flames along with the rest of the building. Even if Gideon left the smith alive, it didn’t matter. Her mother’s requirements would be fulfilled.

Ida’s freedom would be gone.

But if I interfere and act directly against mother, the same result happens. She’ll never let me leave the mountain again. I’ll be stuck in there forever — and probably still married to some insufferable fool that can’t tell one end of their hammer from the other.

Her mind and body pulled in different directions. She couldn’t run, either. Fleeing the dwarven council was a pointless endeavor. They wouldn’t let her just wander off into the Kingdom and do as she pleased. Not with Dwarven Smith training.

They’d come after her. Then she’d end up exactly where she was currently headed, just with some extra chains along the way to make sure she never got a chance to leave again.

Ida’s heartbeat pounded in her ears as her nails dug into her rough palms. Literally every path before her ended in complete and utter failure. And, worst of all, it was completely out of her hands.

Losing a fight didn’t mean losing a war. Ifrit had proven her wrong. But she hadn’t been defeated by him. She could have come back. Learned more. Challenged him again or proven that he truly was no Dwarven Smith and exonerated him from the council’s eyes.

Her mother had taken all of that away from her.

And now, she could do nothing but watch as the crowd parted around Gideon and he drew up to the door of the Infernal Armory. The warrior’s fingers drummed against the shaft of his axe in anticipation.

What if Ifrit defeats him?

That thought was so ridiculous that Ida nearly burst out into hysterical laughter. A smith — much less a human one — standing against a dwarven warrior clad in Indrana’s armor was just flat out impossible.

But, as Gideon drew up to the door, a form slipped out from the crowd. A young woman moved to stand directly between him and the entrance of the Infernal Armory.

“Sorry, but Ifrit isn’t taking requests right now,” the girl said, giving Gideon a cheeky grin as she raised a sheet of paper. “He doesn’t do walk-ins at all. But I can add you to the list for interviews! If you pass, we can get you set up for something.”

Gideon let out a bark of mocking laughter. “Requests? I’m not here to place a commission, girl. Get out of my way.”

“Mm. No. I don’t think I’m going to do that,” the girl said. “This is the Menagerie’s property. And if you’re not here to commission Ifrit, then I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“Last warning,” Gideon said. “I’m on a job, here. I don’t care who owns this street. You’re standing in the way of me claiming what is mine. The laws of your Kingdom do not apply to me. Get out of the way — or I’ll cut through you.”

“Well, I did try to warn you politely,” the girl said, blowing a strand of hair away from her face. “I don’t know who you are, but I’m going to go ahead and suggest against this one last time. Just for my own concience. Anna’s been telling me that I need to think before stabbing people more.”

“You threaten me?” the incredulousness in Gideon’s voice was so sharp that it might as well have been a blade. His hand moved in a blur as it brought his massive axe screaming forward —

Glowing blue energy snapped into being around him, jerking his arm taut as if he’d been caught in a cage. Gideon’s blow slammed to a halt several inches away from the girl, taut chains holding him frozen in place.

The girl stepped out of the way an instant before the magic holding him down vanished, releasing him and sending his cut slicing through nothing but air.

A flicker of hope welled within Ida. Ifrit might have only been a smith. But he had a guild. Sure, the Menagerie wasn’t known as a combat guild, but they’d placed very well in the Proving Grounds. They had combatants.

It was just that this girl wasn’t among them. Ida didn’t recognize her. She needed to be running to get the actual warriors, not trying to hold Gideon off herself.

A part of Ida’s mind urged her to do just that — but moving now would be the same as defying her mother. It would ruin everything just as surely as any other action she could take would.

Come on. Run for it! Get—

Gideon blurred.

His knee slammed into the girl’s stomach before she could react, launching her back across the street. She hit the ground in a roll, bouncing once before colliding with the wall of a crumbling building and smashing straight through it. The building crumbled, its walls caving in on itself as what little structural integrity it still had begun to evaporate.

Ida’s stomach clenched even tighter.

Oh, no.

Gideon turned back toward the smithy and hoisted his axe once more, striding toward it without even bothering to check the fate of his opponent.

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Angry yells erupted from the stunned crowd. Several adventurers stepped toward Gideon, going for their weapons, while others rushed for where the girl had fallen within the ruined building.

Gideon paid none of them any mind. He reared back, preparing to bring his axe down on the door as he approached it.

But, before he could, the door slammed open. A man clad in beautiful ivory metal armor stepped out, the horns on his helm curled like those of demons. Despite herself, Ida found her breath catching in her chest.

Molten red light burned within the man’s eyes like two pools of lava. The magic within the armor was unmistakable. Even though she couldn’t see any information on the armor or sense the properties of the magic within, any dwarf worth their rocks could feel power.

And this armor was powerful. It might have even been comparable with some of her mother’s work.

Relief exploded within Ida. The Menagerie had a warrior. Perhaps he could hold Gideon off for long enough to get help.

“Oh, shit,” an adventurer said. “It’s Ifrit. That guy fucked up.”

And just like that, Ida’s relief evaporated.

No! What are you doing! Run away! Get help, you fool!

Ifrit was a smith. It didn’t matter what kind of armor he wore. It didn’t matter what tricks he had. A smith was a smith. Such a class could never hope to stand up to a warrior like Gideon, much less when he was clad in equally powerful armor.

“You?” Gideon asked, derision in his tone. “You’re Ifrit? Well, at least you made this easy. There’s no doubt about it. That armor of yours is clearly inspired by dwarven techniques. Stolen ones. Your time is up, smith.”

Ifrit stared at Gideon wordlessly. The man didn’t say a word. His molten red eyes just bore into the dwarf like they were trying to sear a hole through him.

A distant part of Ida’s mind hesitated. Something about Ifrit felt… different. This wasn’t the way he’d carried himself the last time they’d met. His movements had become sharper. Jerkier. Stiffer.

“Stand still and I’ll make this fast,” Gideon said. “I don’t need to kill you if you don’t make me. Severing your arms should be sufficient. I’ll be taking them with me so you can’t stick ‘em back on, and that’ll be that. After all, you can’t regrow limbs. Now grit your teeth, smith.”

Gideon’s axe flashed down.

“No!” Ida yelled.

A metallic thud echoed through the street.

Ida’s eyes went wide.

Gideon’s axe had come to a halt in the air above Ifrit. The smith had grabbed the axe before it could fall, stopping it a foot away from his shoulder. He’d stopped a direct blow from a warrior.

And then his other fist flashed forward.

A metallic crunch echoed out as Ifrit’s fist slammed into Gideon’s gut. The dwarf staggered back with a surprised gasp. He looked down at his armor in disbelief.

Ida’s ears rang as she stared, just as stunned as Gideon. The metal had caved in half an inch. Ifrit’s blow had been strong enough to damage her mother’s armor.

“You dare?” Gideon snarled. “Then we’ll do things the hard way, Ifrit. You die. Today.”

The warrior let out a roar. Energy ignited around him as he blurred, vanishing from view for an instant as he shot toward Ifrit. He brought his axe down in a streak of blurred metal — and his hands hurtled through the air with enough force to make him spin in place.

Gideon stared down at his palms in disbelief.

His axe was gone, departed from his hands midway through the strike.

But it hadn’t completely disappeared.

Ifrit held the huge weapon loosely in one hand as if he’d always had it, his molten gaze still boring into Gideon’s skull.

“What?” Gideon asked, so baffled that he couldn’t even put a full sentence together. “How—”

Ifrit’s fist slammed into the side of Gideon’s head like he was striking a gong. The dwarven warrior stumbled backward, his helmet dented, only for Ifrit to bring his fist crashing into his shoulder with enough force to spin him in place.

Then Ifrit brought Gideon’s axe down, slamming it into the dwarf’s shoulder with a resounding crash. The blade of the weapon bit into the armor, grinding to a halt an inch into it as enchantments ignited, burning to keep the blow from penetrating deeper.

Gideon grabbed the axe and tore it free from Ifrit’s grasp, staggering another step back as he dropped into a defensive stance. He raised it before himself —

The axe vanished, reforming in Ifrit’s hands.

Ida could barely believe her eyes. None of this made sense. Ifrit shouldn’t have been able to resist Gideon, much less actually manage to put the warrior on the backfoot. But logic didn’t seem to have any grasp on this fight.

Reality was not what it should have been.

“I can’t believe it,” Gideon said with a cold laugh. “A smith is actually going to make me get serious. Ridiculous. I don’t know what kind of trickery you’re using, but I can assure you that you’ll regret it. Don’t think I need my axe to—”

He blurred before he finished his sentence, vanishing from sight and appearing behind Ifrit within an instant, a long blade appearing within his grip as if it had always been there. Gideon brought the weapon streaking toward Ifrit’s neck in a surprise attack so fast that it was already done by the time Ida had realized what was happening.

There was a moment of silence.

Then Ifrit’s head slipped forward. It pitched forward, tumbling off his shoulders to fall toward the ground — and every one of Ida’s hopes fell with it.

And then the helmet froze midway to the street. It hung in the air, suspended as if by an invisible string. Confusion cut through Ida’s horror and disappointment.

Red streamed through the air in the helmet’s wake.

Not blood.

Energy.

An undulating cloud of crimson magic connected the helm to the armor behind it. Armor that didn’t have a single droplet of blood upon it because there was nobody inside it to cut.

The armor was completely empty.

Then the helmet floated into the air, slamming back down onto the armor’s shoulders as it turned toward Gideon, who stood frozen in stunned disbelief. He finally snapped back into motion, but an instant too late.

Even as he blurred to make space, one of the hollow suit of armor’s gauntlets shot out and caught the warrior by the arm.

Gideon let out a scream as he was swung like a ragdoll through the air, then slammed into the ground with a resounding crash. The street cracked beneath him from the force of the blow. He managed to shove himself to the side, rolling and staggering back to his feet. Rubble rained from his armor as he took several terrified steps back.

“A golem?” Gideon rasped. “A golem is this strong?”

And then the golem blurred.

Gideon tried to dodge, but he wasn’t fast enough. An ivory fist slammed the side of his head. A knee drove up into his armor, and then he found himself soaring through the air as Ifrit’s armor hoisted him just to slam him right back into the ground, skull-first.

He flopped back, crashing to the cracked street with a resounding thud.

The ivory golem raised a foot and drove it down for Gideon’s head in a blur.

Gideon rolled to the side at the last instant, barely managing to keep his head from getting crushed into a pulpy mess. He scrambled back to his feet, only to catch a blurred knee right to the jaw.

Ida couldn’t believe her eyes.

Gideon wasn’t just losing. He was getting slaughtered.

The sound of ringing metal rolled through the street as Ifrit’s golem rained blows down upon Gideon, tossing him around like the warrior was nothing more than a child in his father’s armor.

Even calling this a slaughter might have been a misnomer. It was more like an execution. Every single blow rolled through Ida’s skull so clearly that it might have been her own head getting struck.

This was impossible. A mere golem should have had absolutely no way to stand up against a dwarven warrior, much less defeat one.

But that reality had been broken.

Dread blanketed Ida. She found herself taking a step back into the alley. And, among all the questions rolling through her mind to the tune of the ringing blows falling upon Gideon’s fading armor like thick hailstones, one rose above all the others.

If Ifrit can make something like this… he’s no smith at all. What kind of sleeping monster have we angered?