Wy didn’t like his situation. He clenched one talisman in each hand and considered his options: try another Second Stage spell to see if the Southerner was just running on luck, or give it the best he had and risk the Temples noticing the commotion.

He stepped out of the shop, eyes trained on his opponent. The two attracted a few curious glances from passing market-goers.

Kan spoke first. “Where’s Meizo?”

“Nowhere nearby to save you,” Wy snorted. He raised his left hand and incanted the words.

Kan fixed his consciousness on the smallest changes of Aura around him, head spinning at the same time to process the circumstances. The apprentice was using spells that would be a sure kill for commoners. He wanted Kan dead, quite beyond trivial strife between North and South. Why? Kan might have a few bounties on his head, but he was not vain enough to believe his life mattered to the Temples. And how much was Meizo involved in this? Why did the apprentice assume he’d come to Kan’s rescue?

A gale of sand dust swept across the street and forced Kan to squeeze his eyes closed. He pulled his wandering thoughts back—for now, he’d have to settle for staying alive. He reached for the premonition, shutting out the annoyed murmurs of the crowd shuffling through the dust storm.

Unlike the sharp, biting pain from the Killing Wind, this spell called to him with a dry, grating agony. Although Kan had never felt such Aura before, he understood its intention immediately. It killed by suffocating.

He swirled. The parching heat brushed past his side, only to change directions and roar back at him again with full force. He dodged again to the side. The dustcloud whooshed past where his head had been, then turned around and charged once more.

“There’s no escaping this one!” Wy laughed. “Give up already!”

The next moment, Wy wanted to eat his words. He gaped as Kan bent into a backflip, drew out his sword while his body was halfway in the air, and sliced at the gust front so fast that the entire movement looked like a blur. He landed nimbly, and the sand fell to a small dune at his feet.

Impossible.

“He lied to me!” Wy suddenly came to a realization and screamed. “Common steel can’t cut anything summoned with talismans! You are hiding your power … He lied to me!”

A few passersby stopped to gawk at the scene. Kan pitied the apprentice for his ignorance. Spells weren’t magic—at least Meizo was honest about that much—and common steel could cut through Aura all the same if it was fast and true. He didn’t need to point it out to the apprentice though.

“Who lied to you?” he asked instead. “About what?”

Wy felt the sweat in his palm seeping through the third talisman he was still holding. He hadn’t anticipated this. The last spell in his hand, infused with Artifact, was the most powerful and expensive one he owned, and he didn’t want to waste it on this pointless fight. But his pride got the better of him.

“About your death,” he bared his teeth and slammed the talisman onto the ground.

A horrible omen surged through Kan’s mind. He had no time to shout out a warning to the market crowd before the stone pavement shook, rumbled, and split open. Gaping crevices wide as tree trunks shot through the square like giant spiderwebs. A flare of burning Aura told him to jump, and he lept just as a huge gap opened up below him, swallowing pebbles and sand into a bottomless abyss.

Dust filled the air. All around him people were screaming, frantically running, and trampling each other. A little girl lost her footing at the edge of a crack. When Kan grabbed her by the collar and hurled, she was too scared to even cry. Kan barked to the apprentice in the mayhem, “You’ve lost your mind! You’ll kill these commoners!”

Wy only laughed hysterically.

Kan rolled to temporary safety against a wall and unsheathed his sword. He had hoped to simply dodge the apprentice’s attacks and send him back to the Temples disappointed, but the plan would no longer work. He’d have to draw blood today. 

That was when he sensed the change.

A peaceful Aura suffused his consciousness, falling like fresh rain over the scorching venom from the apprentice’s spell. It placified and subdued the earth-shattering malice, and piece by piece the deadly threat in Kan’s mind dissipated. Slowly the cracks in the ground narrowed. With a soft echo, they clicked shut. The rumbling faded.

Kan looked up. Meizo stood at the center of the square, amidst the terrified commoners weeping and fleeing all over. The flaming anger in his eyes was hot enough to kill.

“Ma-Master Meizo,” Wy stammered. His figure petrified. Meizo was supposed to be distracted … Why was he here?

“You almost slaughtered half of the town!” Meizo bellowed. He looked like he was going to slap Wy in the face.

“I-I was only—”

“Save your excuses for the Keeper.” Meizo strode up to him and waved a hand in dismissal. Wy quieted immediately. Meizo turned to Kan. “The Temples will see to it that he’s permanently expelled. Are you hurt?”

Kan gave him a slight glare, unsure how to interpret his true intention. “No,” Kan said, “though the townsfolks may not be so lucky.”

Meizo sighed. “The spell he used—the Devouring—is supposed to follow wherever you stand, not stretch out to others around you. He didn’t have the level of power required to fully control it, so it went awry, but hopefully not enough to cause innocent deaths.”

They went around the market square to check the damage. Everything was covered in a layer of ash, and half of the shops were missing a door or window. Fortunately, the spell break had pulled back the people who fell through the splits, and only a few cattle and goats were lost. Meizo gave out healing potions to the injured and promised to send help from the Temples as soon as he could.

Kan let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. At least no one was badly hurt. Then he scrutinized Meizo’s expression and saw the genuine concern on his face.

Was Meizo not the one behind this? Was there a different force at the Temples that didn’t want Kan’s presence?

“Who sent him?” Kan asked, gesturing at the apprentice. “Or is it common practice for shamans to test out their powers on Southerners?”

“No,” Meizo replied, and Kan thought he heard a trace of guilt in his voice. “It’s probably a … mistake. Wy holds grudges against Southerners, and this is not the first time he picked a fight with one. We’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“How?”

“The Temples will seal his power when he’s expelled.”

Kan didn’t see that coming. Having lost his power himself, he knew how much the punishment meant. He turned to the apprentice, “You said someone lied to you. Maybe telling us the details could get you an easier way out of this.”

“It won’t,” Meizo said. “Threatening lives of commoners is an unforgivable act of dishonor. Though the Keeper will make the final decision based on our codes.”

Kan glanced at the apprentice, who had been very quiet since Meizo’s appearance. He wondered if Meizo had silenced him—not every spell required talismans, and as far as Kan knew, a wave of a hand could’ve done it—so the name of the mastermind would remain a mystery.

Meizo patted him on the shoulder. “Let’s get going. We should still be able to make it to the Temples before sunset.”

They had just started making their way back to the wagon when a voice called from behind, “Your provisions, young man.”

The medicine man caught up with an astounded Kan and offered him a stack of bundles. “Everything is here, and the top pack is a token of thanks to you.” He added after seeing Kan’s confused stare, “I appreciate you leading that bastard outside my shop.”

Kan was dumbfounded. Business must mean the world to this man if he was still thinking about the order which almost ended his life. Kan accepted the supplies, then he noticed the medicine shop: it was the only building on the square with no parts missing, not even a crack in the wall. A miracle.

“You are …” He opened his mouth, but the man was already gone. Kan snapped out of his stupor, “Wait! I haven’t paid yet!”

Only the wind replied.