Chapter 1079 - 1078: An Unfriendly Welcome

The Harbor Watch Hall stood above the southern docks with its broad windows facing the sea.

Simon could see why the protectors had chosen it. From here, they could watch the shipping routes and reach The Wall without flying over most of the city.

The guard led him through a corridor lined with maps.

Clerks moved between desks, passing messages to waiting soldiers. No one raised their voice, but few wasted time either.

At the end of the passage stood a pair of open doors.

"They’re expecting you, honored guest."

The guard bowed and withdrew.

Simon entered and to his disbelief and shock, a fist came at his face.

He turned his head.

Knuckles passed his cheek, close enough to brush his hair.

Before he could see the attacker properly, an elbow swung toward his ribs.

Simon blocked it with his forearm.

BANG!

His boots slid sideways across the floor.

Pain spread from his wrist to his shoulder.

What the-

A broad man stood before him with dark-red skin stretching over thick, muscular arms. His head was closely shaved, and an old scar divided his left eyebrow. A thick neck and square jaw gave him a rather intimidating appearance.

He was smiling.

"You’re fast."

Simon’s eyes narrowed.

"Who-"

A foot swept toward his ankle.

He stepped over it and leaned away from a second fist.

The man’s hand struck empty air.

Simon caught his wrist, intending to pull him off balance.

Instead, the man yanked him forward.

Strong.

Far stronger than his appearance suggested.

Simon released his grip before a knee could reach his stomach and turned sideways, letting it pass.

He drove his palm into the man’s chest.

BANG!

The man moved back half a step.

That was all.

His smile widened.

"You must be Blackmoon."

Simon drew a slow breath and looked around.

The room was broad and almost empty, with benches against the walls and a viewing gallery overhead. Pale lines covered the floor, brightening where his boots had scraped it.

He instantly knew what sort of room this was.

A practice hall.

And apparently, he had entered a practice session.

"You could have introduced yourself first."

"Rasken."

The man pointed at himself.

"There."

A woman standing beside one of the benches sighed.

"Try not to embarrass us."

She had slate-grey skin, sharp green eyes, and short green hair tucked behind pointed ears.

Her dark-blue coat had been fastened high at the neck, its divided hem leaving her legs free.

Simon looked at her.

Perhaps she would explain what this was all about.

Unfortunately for Simon, he did not get what he wanted.

She moved.

Her fist reached his chest just as he turned.

Simon shifted aside. She immediately opened her hand, caught his sleeve, and pulled.

His newly bought robe tore.

’The fuck?!’

Simon cursed internally.

Her knee rose toward his ribs.

He pressed a hand against her thigh and pushed himself away rather than trying to stop it.

Rasken was already there.

Simon ducked beneath his arm, turned, and put both protectors in front of him.

The torn sleeve drew itself together.

As he watched both daemons, he realized a few things.

One, neither of them were emitting killing intent and none of their attacks were meant to kill him.

Also, neither of them had drawn a weapon or released an affinity.

They were doing this with their bodies alone.

"The Sovereign sent you to help us?" Rasken asked.

Simon frowned.

"That’s what I was told."

"Just you?"

Simon didn’t answer.

"None of us had heard of you before Zarven’s message. Now we hear you might become the Sovereign’s sixth disciple."

Simon’s expression became calm and he immediately understood.

They wanted to see for themselves the new Daemon that the Abyss Sovereign was choosing to become his disciple.

"You could have asked."

"We are asking," Rasken replied, stepping forward.

The woman gave him an irritated look.

"That sounded better in your head."

"Veyra, whose side are you on?"

"Move."

She struck first.

Simon watched her shoulder, not her fist.

He turned before the punch extended, catching it against the outside of his forearm. Rasken approached from the other side.

Simon dropped beneath his swing.

He could read their movements. His reactions were faster, and he needed less time to change direction.

But each time he tried meeting their strength directly, he lost ground.

That could be fixed.

His demonic energy tightened through his legs and shoulders.

Rasken threw another straight punch.

This time, Simon caught it on his palm.

The floor thudded beneath them.

His arm bent slightly.

His feet didn’t move.

Rasken’s smile faded.

Simon pushed the fist aside and stepped toward Veyra.

She brought her elbow across to intercept him.

Energy gathered beneath his skin at the point of contact.

Their forearms collided.

Neither gave way.

Veyra glanced at his arm.

"You’re only reinforcing where-"

Simon twisted his wrist free and struck her shoulder with the heel of his hand.

She stumbled two steps.

Rasken laughed.

Then Simon turned and drove an elbow toward his stomach.

The man blocked it, but this time he was the one forced backward.

"Better," he said.

Simon wasn’t interested in his approval.

Veyra returned, no longer reaching for his clothes. Her punches came short and direct, denying him room to slip around her.

He blocked one, moved under the next, and redirected her wrist just enough that Rasken had to check his own strike.

For an instant, the two obstructed each other.

Simon stepped between them.

His knee struck Rasken’s thigh, buckling the leg. Before the man recovered, Simon drove a fist into his side.

A grunt escaped him.

Veyra reached for Simon’s shoulder but he was already turning.

"He’s moving his demonic m energy between strikes," she said.

Rasken straightened.

"Without wasting any."

Something moved above Simon.

He looked up.

A third figure had dropped from the gallery.

’A third?’

The newcomer’s fist was already descending.

Simon crossed his arms above his head.

Demonic energy coated them.

The fist struck.

CRACK!

His left knee hit the floor.

Pain tore through both of his forearms. His bones fractured beneath the Chaos Wraps, and the breath burst from his lungs as his own arms were driven against him.

The pale floor markings flashed.

For a moment, Simon heard nothing but the impact ringing through the room.

The newcomer landed before him.

He was taller than Rasken, with bronze skin, a scarred nose, and grey hair bound into a thick braid. His plain brown coat hung open around a frame that made the other man seem slender.

"Torvek," Veyra said sharply. "You’re supposed to be on watch."

"My post is upstairs."

His voice was low and rough.

"And the sea is also quiet."

Simon looked from him to the gallery.

He had expected to quietly and peacefully meet two protectors.

Not the two protectors testing him while a third waited overhead.

His jaw tightened.

UnholyRegeneration drew on his demonic energy.

The fractured bones joined. Torn muscles knitted beneath the Chaos Wraps, and sensation returned to the fingers of his left hand.

They had struck hard enough to break his arms.

All for a test he hadn’t agreed to.

Torvek looked down at him.

"You blocked it."

Simon rose slowly.

The larger Daemon raised his hands again, apparently expecting another exchange.

Veyra’s gaze fell to Simon’s arms.

"The injury..."

Torvek noticed too.

His attention dropped for a fraction of a second.

Simon moved.

He knocked Torvek’s forward hand outward with his left forearm and stepped close enough that the larger man couldn’t bring his other arm across.

Demonic energy gathered through Simon’s planted leg.

His hips turned.

And his fist drove into Torvek’s stomach.

BOOM!

The larger man’s breath left him in a harsh grunt.

His boots scraped backward across the floor, then lost purchase entirely. He skidded past one bench and struck a pillar hard enough to make its protective markings flare.

Bang!

Rasken stopped smiling.

Veyra lowered the hand she had begun to raise.

Simon straightened his sleeve.

His forearm ached, but the bone beneath it had healed.

Across the room, Torvek pushed himself away from the pillar. His eyes returned to Simon, considerably more attentive than before.

Simon looked at each of them.

He had come to help defend this city, not to deal with this shit.

"I’m tired of this shit," he said, his voice cold, "We better stop here or I promise you that somebody is going to die and it won’t be me."