Rheba quickly scanned the Netzian’s limbs for a Needaimus; when she found none, she was forced to make an assumption.

“You are using the spells of energy and reinforcement, aren’t you?” she asked as she stood back up. Her stomach still felt off from the blow, but she ignored it as best she could.

Thorir smirked. He had searched for a strong opponent for years after mastering his craft. He found the idea of a Needaimus abhorrent. Not only did they give abilities that weren’t natural, but they also granted power to people without proper training. A person could do extraordinary feats without earning it, in Thorir’s eyes.

He had banded together with a small group to research and develop the seven simple spells into a potent fighting force. As he honed his body, he honed his spellcraft. Others left one by one when they realized how challenging the task actually was. Ultimately, the yellow-haired Netzian was the only one who reached mastery.

He had wandered across Resh for several years after, picking fights with Needaimus users and skilled fighters without prejudice. His only hope was to find someone with sufficient fighting skills to best him, or at least train someone with magic to carry on his legacy.

Eventually, Array found him and offered him a deal. They would involve him in situations where powerful fighters would gather. Thorir would have rathered fought the strong commanders that offered him the position, but he was not so much of a musclehead to overlook a good deal. He accepted with the goal of picking fights among the organization later.

Unfortunately for the Netzian, he had not found strong fighters after joining Array. They were mainly focused on Nun upon his initiation, and he saw the citizens of the grand city were too squishy for his liking.

It had been several years since he had taken a hit and many more since he thought a bone may have been broken. He was happy as could be and made a sinister grin at Rheba.

“Tell me, what is the Bentalousian rule for getting a Needaimus?” Thorir asked as he pushed himself off the cracked pole.

Rheba’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t see the relevance but was not going to share the information regardless. Seeing the defiance in Rheba’s eyes made Thorir chuckle.

“Alright,” he said, “Just say something if I am wrong. Your culture believes a fighter should be competent first and a Needaimus mortal second. Only after mastering many martial arts skills and winning several live fights, you will be granted a Needaimus.”

What he said was correct, but Rheba was not sure if she should say anything or not. She decided it was better to figure out what her next attack would be. Silently, she considered which words she should say. Only in her vision could she see the estimated amount of points each would cost.

‘I will defeat you’ cost three times her current stockpile. ‘I will not be electrocuted again’ was even more. She gritted her teeth as the values were an additional way to measure her opponent's skill level. Rheba could tell that he was strong.

“I’ll take that as a yes, very good,” Thorir said with glee as he took another fighting stance. He quickly lunged forward and threw a kick at Rheba’s waist. She wasn’t sure if the foot would be electrified and leaped back to avoid the strike.

Thorir had counted on her move. His kick was actually a feint, and he quickly redirected it to the ground and pushed off to lunge closer.

“I will dodge,” Rheba shouted as Thorir moved his sparking fist of purple lighting close to her head. She was able to move in an awkward and contorted manner around him as the fist harmlessly sailed in the air. More impressively, she recovered from the awkward dodge and slammed her foot into Thorir’s back. He was smashed into the rooftop and grunted.

“So, even you rely on your Needaimus,” Thorir lamented. Rheba did not understand his tone or words but jumped back in case he was about to try something. Sure enough, her concern was warranted as a discharge erupted from Thorir’s body.

He pushed himself and glared at her with rage.

“Is it too much to ask for a good fight?” he grunted as he ran across the rooftop.

“I would think electrifying opponents would not make for a good fight,” Rheba replied as she jumped in the air and over his head. Thorir stopped short of hitting the cracked pole a second time.

Rheba swiftly began to run across the roof as well. She figured it would be best to end the fight quickly before meeting up with Gwyn.

She pulled her arm back in preparation to strike as hard as possible. Thorir, on the other hand, suddenly broke off the cracked pole. He spun the pole like a baseball bat at Rheba. She quickly halted and pushed herself back. At the same time, Thorir lunged forward while continuing his swing. The hit connected, and Rheba flew across the sky into the under construction building on the opposite side of the fountain.