Lee's heart pounded as the water dragon reared above him. Its massive head twisted, liquid jaws snapping open with a roar that wasn't sound but pressure — the sheer weight of elemental force grinding against his bones.
This guy… he's at least level 30. I can't—
The masked man's gaze was as cold as the river in spring. "Now. Water Magic: Tidal Bite."
The dragon surged, rushing toward Lee like a collapsing avalanche. He threw up his blade in desperation, knowing it wouldn't matter. The air itself warped with the pressure — his lungs locked, his instincts screamed.
And then—
A spear of fire ripped through the sky, tearing into the dragon's snout. The torrent convulsed, steam exploding outward in a blinding wall. The dragon writhed once before its head vaporized, collapsing into white mist that rolled across the canyon floor.
Lee staggered back, coughing, eyes burning.
The masked man froze mid-step. "What—?"
A voice, lazy but clear, echoed across the canyon. "Sorry I'm late. Got stuck arguing with a goat on the trail. You know how stubborn they are."
Through the haze, Lee spotted him — a man standing casually on a ledge, black hair a tangled mess, cloak scorched at the hem. He was stringing a bow, but the fire that danced along his fingers wasn't summoned by chant or seal. It was simply there, as natural to him as breathing.
The masked man's eyes narrowed. "Another bodyguard?"
"Bodyguard?" The newcomer grinned, scratching his cheek with the edge of his bow. "Nah. I just like shooting people who look scarier than me." His tone was light, careless — but his stance shifted, bow raised, eyes sharpening in an instant. "And lucky for you, pal, you definitely qualify."
Before Lee could process it, the assassin blurred forward, water shaping into a whip around his blade. It cracked toward Silas like a thunderclap.
But Silas wasn't there.
He'd dropped low, sliding across gravel with shocking agility. The whip missed by inches, carving a line into the stone rock. Silas popped up inside the man's guard, dagger flashing from his wrist sheath — a silver glint, precise and surgical. He stabbed upward, aiming for ribs.
The masked man twisted just enough; the blade bit into his side, shallow but real. He hissed, clutching his wound, eyes burning with fury. "You bastard—!" His sword lashed out in a surge of liquid power.
Silas skidded back, letting the blast hammer against his vambrace. Steam hissed where fire met water, but he never flinched. Instead, he tilted his head and smirked.
"Man, you hit hard. Bet you're fun at parties."
Lee blinked. He's joking?
Arrows lit like comets on Silas' string. One after another, they flew, each forcing the assassin's sword to redirect, water meeting fire in bursts of vapor. The canyon rang with clash after clash, a rhythm like drumbeats.
"You think arrows will stop me?" the assassin barked. His movements were sharp, efficient, unyielding. "I've slaughtered pyromancers before. You're nothing new."
"Good news," Silas quipped, loosing three more. "I'm way more handsome than those guys."
Lee almost laughed despite the danger. He's insane.
But beneath the jokes, Silas' attacks were methodical. Each arrow wasn't meant to kill — they herded, cutting the assassin's options until his back pressed against a canyon wall. His frustration showed in the tightening of his stance, the flare of his magic.
"Enough!" the masked man roared, his sword spiraling with water. "Flood Spiral!"
A torrent exploded outward, shredding stone, sweeping Silas off his feet. Lee's heart lurched as Silas vanished under the crushing current.
But then — fire erupted within the flood. A boiling glow expanded until the torrent itself screamed, evaporating into a suffocating wave of steam. Through it, Silas strode forward, cloak singed, hair plastered to his forehead, grin somehow still intact.
"Flood Spiral, huh?" His voice dropped, calm and razor-edged now. "Let me show you mine."
The air around him shimmered with heat as he nocked a single arrow. Flame crawled over it, compressing tighter, hotter, until it was white at the core.
The assassin's eyes widened. That's—!
"Fire Magic," Silas intoned. "Ember Stinger."
The arrow screamed through the air like a falling star. The assassin swung his sword, water surging to intercept — but the flame pierced straight through, devouring it. The impact struck his chest dead center.
The masked man staggered, eyes wide, steam and smoke rising from his cloak. He fell to his knees, coughing blood, then collapsed against the canyon floor. His sword clattered uselessly to the stone.
Silas exhaled, finally letting his grin soften. "Well," he muttered, brushing ash off his sleeve, "guess I can't make fun of water mages anymore."
Lee stood frozen, his own summoned blade dissolving into motes of light. His pulse thundered in his ears. "…You… saved me."
Silas sheathed his dagger and stretched like he'd just woken from a nap. "Eh, don't get used to it. I just hate dramatic monologues, and he looked like the type to give at least three more."
Lee blinked — then laughed, short and shaky. The tension bled out of him at last.
Silas tilted his head. "You're heading to Last Hope, right? I was supposed to warn the merchants about trouble, but…" He gestured to the corpses, smirking. "…guess I'm late. Happens a lot."
Lee adjusted his torn cloak, still trembling from adrenaline. "You fight like a madman."
"Madman?" Silas gave a mock bow. "Please. I'm a professional madman. Huge difference."
And just like that, the two of them set off through the Serpent's Pass, one exhausted but alive, the other humming off-key as if they hadn't just faced death together. Behind them, the canyon still reeked of smoke and scorched water — a reminder of the danger that stalked their every step.
But for the first time in weeks, Lee wasn't alone