"Kill him," the sage said to his squad. "We can question him later." He smirked and vanished.

I was impressed by the creeper's cold, calculated command. So the Jesters had a paler with them. The death-attuned templar would be at the top of my kill list. If the sage was content to let his squad fight it out, I could ignore him for the first couple of bouts. That meant I needed to make my opening attack count.

Fortunately, the air was thick with moisture. Water particles clung to my enemies in a damp cloak that was imperceptible by almost all. In fact, hiding at the back of the squad was the sage. I couldn't actually see him. It was more that I could sense the water hugging his figure. Uh oh, I thought, constraining my smile. Their leader had just given the command, and I already knew how the opening attack was going to play out.

Water surged inside me. It cycled in my core, rushing through my channels. I could feel the power in the air all around me. It longed to be connected, to be one. Through this connection, I pulled on the water attached to the sage. The surge of energy yanked the sage off his feet and dragged his flailing invisible form toward me. At the same time, I pushed back on the water, shoving the rest of the Jesters away. In less than a second, I created space and brought my target within the range of my summoned blade.

I cut through the creeper as if slicing through the air. To everyone else, it looked precisely like that. Only after my blade stained red and the shocked face of the dead sage was exposed did my opening attack register to the rest of the squad. It was too late.

The Paler was already getting pulled toward me. At the same time, I created water razors and threw them. The five Jesters that were still getting pushed out by water were now facing a barrage of knife attacks. The death templar was doing his best to resist my pull. His domain bid me to stop. It urged me to obey the templar's will. A small portion of me wanted to embrace death. That desire was cut off as soon as I killed the Paler. Creeping thoughts were banished along with the summons that hadn't yet formed.

We were only seconds into the chaotic fight. Two of the Jesters were killed. The rest were fighting on their heels, trying to avoid lacerations. Since the remaining five were resisting my push, I adjusted my tactics and gave them all a gentle pull. Their collapse was almost uniform. All five hit the ground and were continually assaulted by my razors.

I increased the pressure, adding more mana to the humid air. My domain will nearly solidify. I could sense the struggling templars trying to bring their own mana into the fight. I had too much control… too much power. They simply were not allowed to manifest their energy. The smoker among them was particularly having a bad time.

Fighting on their back, side, and for one unfortunate soul, stomach, the Jesters were a pitiful sight. The fearful assassins had been reduced to clowns. All it took was quick thinking and quicker action.

I followed the kill order, removing each assassin methodically.

The life templar died from a fatal slice of an ice razor. I used extra focus to direct the severing slice. The same technique was used against the second light cultivator in the mix. Like the sage, this creeper managed to vanish. His disappearance didn't stop my razor from cutting through his neck. His expression was much less surprised than that of his leader's.

The grounder, no longer prone, managed to get to a base. As he placed weight on his arms to push himself to his feet, I pulled. Hard. The heavily armored assassin crashed to the ground. Dozens of razors cut into his stone frame. Blood pooled. A body fell limp.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

I pulled the air templar toward me just as she was unleashing her wind attack. A fist larger than her body crashed into her side. The ice fist punched her two more times before she fell lifelessly.

The last templar's will and desire to fight were already crushed before I turned to him. The cold and ice claimed his soul.

I kept my domain active, and my aura stretched out. There could be more Jesters lurking around. My alertness left me somewhat open to the crowd that stayed to watch.

"Is that dowser a mage?"

"Shh… If he is a mage, you better hope he did not hear you call him a dowser."

"Relax. Look at his build. He is clearly an islander. They only have two mages. Neither of them would ever walk the streets of Sunset so casually."

"Yeah, look at his pauldrons. He is barely a templar by the looks of it. Judging by his gear score, he is probably only a knight."

"A knight? You wish. Look at the dead bodies. Those are clearly the Jesters."

"Do not speak so loudly about the royal court of assassins."

"They are dead."

"You are courting death."

"There are no Jesters here. That lot is no better than a lowly street gang. I recognized a couple of them from a—"

"You fool. The Jesters are everywhere. Great, now I am dead. I need to go home."

As the crowd talked, I noticed a message in my mind's eye. It was unobtrusive, and I only saw it because of a soft celebratory ding.

Skill: Water Anchor, Rank: Disciple, Level: 29.

I didn't completely understand the message, so I made a note to ask Cal about the levels and ranks later. However made up the concept may be, I couldn't deny the sense of accomplishment I felt from seeing it. It was as if my efforts —no, skill—were given credit. In a way, it was rewarding… There was a good chance I was being manipulated by the system. The cheery alert definitely set a tone.

Oh well. I tried not to get alarmed by the thought. It was a new system. And if I was being manipulated, wasn't it for my own benefit? Maybe the right word was motivation. That settled better.

I let out a relaxed breath. At the same time, I reduced the strength of my domain to a quarter. The crowd was still chatting, and it was getting bigger.

The crowd filled the streets now, though a healthy space was given to me and the dead. There were a couple people that were eyeing the bodies with anticipation. I didn't care about the assassins or what they possessed. I already had my own borrowed wealth. One that I was trying to exploit… just my timing was bad.

Not wanting to push through the crowd, risk getting followed, or get into another fight, I turned on my heel and headed back into the library. The only place I knew peace was guaranteed. Besides, there were some interesting body cultivation scrolls that I hadn't finished reading. It seemed there was no better time than now.

I was engrossed in a chapter on the concept of foundations. It essentially aligned with what Tom was trying to get my body to do. The better the foundation's base, the easier it would be to refine the essence. I knew I was somewhat halting my progress to get the essence fixed, but I only had one shot at refining my body. There would be no second or third chances. If I wanted the rank of gold, I needed the perfect conditions.

I turned the page just as the library doors blew apart. Smoke and dust clouded the entrance, prohibiting us from seeing the culprit.

"Who in Sogg's bosom!" a disgruntled librarian shouted. "This is a library registered with the Agrian Empire. I hope you have deep pockets."

"And love prison food," a patron said before turning back to her book. Based on the cover, it looked to be about alchemy. Betty, my witch friend, would probably love it.

"Kip," a strong feminine voice yelled through the smoke. "We know you are here. How about you come out and make this easy on all of us?"

I joined the crowd in the library, searching for the named victim. Only a few eyes accused me. I made sure to return their accusations with stares of my own.

"Whoever you are, stop disturbing the peace of the library. Either wait or come in here and drag Kip out. WAIT. DO NOT come in here. You are not permitted. GUARDS! GUARDS."

A black-cloaked figure walked past the terrified librarian. The librarian held her red-soaked neck as she collapsed. I didn't even see the mysterious figure move. The second attendant was stunned and appeared to be locked in shock, standing stiffly.

As the figure looked around, heads ducked, and fingers pointed. Time stopped as I watched the betrayal play out. Say what you will about book-reading folks… the whole lot of them are cowards… including myself. Although I was pointing at someone else, it didn't matter. I'd been out-pointed.

Bloody cowards.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.