Limdon, a city that never slept— mainly because if you did, you might wake up without your purse— was bustling as always. Home to over a million, its streets were alive with opportunity... or at least the illusion of it.
For every successful deal made, a hundred wallets were lightened, a hundred hopes crushed. Life was very hard in a city as big as this, especially in places like a tavern, where fights broke out as frequently as the bartender’s complaints.
And today? No different.
A broad-shouldered man and a lean woman were circling each other in the center of the tavern, their gazes locked like two wolves over the last scrap of meat.
The man wore a shoulder guard and a tasset, giving off the vibe of someone who liked to look intimidating. The woman, meanwhile, was clad in a light, full leather armor, and a cloak draped over her back, and both wore a white mask with a smiley face that blended so well with their face it looked like it might be glued on. No one could tell where the mask ended and their skin began. Creepy? Maybe.
Both had knives strapped to their backs, but no one had gone for them yet. The crowd, naturally, was loving every second of it.
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"Don’t let that brute win!" yelled one woman in the crowd.
"Teach her a lesson!" another man shouted.
"Fight! Fight! Fight!" the rest of the tavern roared, because subtlety was not the specialty here.
Behind the counter, the bartender rolled his eyes. "Remember, damages are on you," he called out, returning to his glass polishing. "The rules. City law. You know the drill."
He turned to the nearest customer when called, "What do you like, sir?"
The second bartender, though? He was just wiping glasses with the intensity of someone who knew more than he was letting on, eyes flicking between the fighters like this was the most interesting show in town. Which, given Limdon, wasn’t that hard to believe.
As for the fighters, there was a lot more going on than a simple tavern brawl. The woman clenched something in her hand— something small, purple, and definitely important. A card. The man’s card. And the tension between them crackled like the air before a storm.
"You know that’s mine," the man growled, eyes narrowing.
"Come and take it, then," the woman replied, voice low but teasing, as if she were daring him.
They both stood still for a moment, scanning each other for weaknesses. Then, the man feinted forward. The woman flinched, just a fraction, and that was all he needed. He barreled forward like a runaway carriage, aiming a punch at her midsection.
The woman wasn’t having any of it. Just before his fist connected, she flicked her hand upward, conjuring a pillar of ice that she could use as an assistance to dodge, neatly avoiding the blow. Rolling to her feet, she summoned an ice gauntlet, twisting her body to send the gauntlet smashing toward him. It was a move that screamed, "I’ve done this before."
The man dodged backward, barely escaping the frosty kiss, but his balance betrayed him, and down he went. Flat on his back. The crowd howled in laughter.
"Oooh, embarrassing," someone muttered.
But the man wasn’t done. No sleeves? No problem. An orange portal flickered into existence beneath him, and suddenly, he was falling through the floor and out of a portal just above the woman. Midair, he twisted, aiming to bring his foot down right on her head.
"Oh, come on!" she hissed, spotting the portal. She snapped up an ice shield just in time to block the incoming kick, but the force shattered the shield and sent her sprawling back into a table.
She groaned, dusting herself off, as the crowd booed and cheered in equal measure. Her hand twitched instinctively to the card. And that’s when she realized— it wasn’t in her hand anymore.
Both of them spotted it on the floor at the same time.
"Not again," the man muttered, already summoning another portal to grab it. But the woman was faster this time. She conjured a shard of ice from beneath the card, sending it sliding back toward her and at the same time jabbing the man’s arm slightly with the shard.
"Ow! Seriously?" he yelped, retracting his hand as though he’d touched something hot.
"Didn’t see that coming, did ya?" she smirked, darting forward to scoop up the card. Just as her fingers closed around it, though, another portal appeared above her, trying to yank her back by the collar.
"Oh, come on!" she hissed again, dropping into a push-up and rolling away just in time to dodge the man’s grab. She clutched the card tight, flipping herself back onto her feet.
"You’re really not giving that back, are you?" the man grumbled, though his voice carried a hint of urgency now, as if they both knew they were running out of time for something far more important than this tavern brawl.
"Not if I can help it!" she shot back, breathless but defiant.
The two lunged at each other once more. The woman conjured a glacier sword, a long shimmering blade of ice, and pierced toward the man’s arm. Quick as a flash, he opened another portal, but she did not anticipate it this time. The sword passed through one portal and out another, right at his bent elbow.
He twisted, grabbing the blade’s hilt as it emerged. "You think you’re clever, huh?" With a swift motion, he snapped the sword in half, shards of ice falling to the ground as he surged forward, fist ready for another strike with the broken sword’s blade in his hand.
"And you think I’m not?" she quipped, "Please, you are just self centered."
Absorbing the shards of ice to create another sword in her off-hand. She swung it toward him, but he blocked it with the iron guard on his forearm. For a moment, they locked in place, both straining against each other.
Just then, the tavern door creaked open. The noise of the crowd died instantly as a lean figure entered, he was not tall, but was definitely not short either. His red hair, neatly combed, and a perfectly ironed black frock coat gave him the air of someone too refined to be in a place like this. A golden chain dangled from his waist, leading to a pocket watch kept inside his pant’s pocket.
He also wore a plain, white mask with a smiley face. But it was more creepy even though it looked the same as the other masks. He had a very commanding presence around him, making other’s feel the pressure.
"Asmodeus, Gabriel," the newcomer’s voice was smooth, yet deep and commanding like an army general. "Stop this nonsense. It’s time to return."