Chapter 5

Edward's intense gaze bore into Xain, causing him to feel uncomfortable as he took his seat. The room felt tense, and Xain's attention was drawn to a peculiar device placed next to Edward. Upon closer inspection, he realized it resembled a small canister. *Is that a bomb!?* the thought flashed in Xain's mind. The expression on his face must have given him away, as Edward's smirk only deepened.

Edward's smirked, and nonchalantly explained, "This is just insurance, Xain. If you attempt to use any magic, we both go up in smoke." He toyed with the device, spinning it between his fingers, leaving Xain thoroughly unsettled. Edward declared with a casual tone, nonchalantly picking up the canister and twirling it between his fingers. Xain's fear escalated at the realization of the danger he was in.

Edward carefully placed the bomb-like device on the table and launched into his interrogation. "When did you gain the ability to use magic?" he inquired, causing Xain to internally seek Ercale's guidance. *What should I do now?* Xain's plea reached Ercale, who responded coolly, *Stick with the story I told Clare.*

Though unsure of the precise details, Xain proceeded, his voice betraying a hint of uncertainty, "I'm not the one with magical abilities; only my brother possesses them." The presence of the bomb hanging over him made it challenging to maintain his composure.

Edward jotted down some notes and inquired, "So can your 'brother' come out now?" Xain mentally communicated with Ercale, asking, *Could you take control of my body again, just for a moment?* Ercale recoiled at the word "brother," replying, *No, I expended too much mana destroying The Shadow Baron's soul.* Frustrated with Ercale's response, Xain imagined himself flipping the table, but he managed to answer, "No, sorry. He's tired and needs to recover his mana. Everyone needs rest, right?" He tried to lighten the atmosphere with a forced laugh.

Edward scribbled additional notes in his notebook before continuing, his tone steady and probing, "Shifting gears, then. Who's responsible for The Shadow Baron's demise?" Xain felt a lump in his throat but managed to reply, "It was both of us."

Edward's eyebrow arched in skepticism, and he inquired, "But don't you take turns controlling the body?" Xain's nod was accompanied by a heavy sigh, "Yeah, we do. But that doesn't change the fact that we're both accountable. We share this body, so we share the responsibility." He answered this question with more solemnity than the others, his words reflecting the weight of his thoughts.

Edward jotted down additional remarks in his notebook, maintaining his composed demeanor. "Don't be disheartened. That's a more effective outcome than detaining him and potentially letting him escape. You made the right call," He spoke matter-of-factly.

Ercale had anticipated this response, and assumed Xain might be taken aback, but Xain's lack of surprise didn't escape him. *Aren't you surprised that a high-ranking member of The Guard would hold such an opinion?* Ercale inquired. *Not really. Most of them don't care,* Xain replied with a hint of bitterness.

Before Edward could proceed with his questioning, the interrogation room door swung open, and a guard entered with a salute. "Sir Edward, there's an emergency involving the two magic users," the guard reported. Xain, alarmed by this, quickly stood up.

Without waiting for further inquiry, he blurted out, "What happened!?" The guard turned to Edward, who gave a nod of permission. "The Fiend has launched an attack on their location, Sir," the guard informed Edward.

**Back to Larkin and Zee**

Tores had been prepared to face any magical threat that might emerge, but he hadn't anticipated the most notorious criminal in the entire city launching an attack. Sweat and wounds covered his form, a stark contrast to The Fiend, who seemed untouched by their encounter. Abiding by protocol, Tores had already directed Larkin and Zee to take refuge in the safe room.

Peering outside, Tores commented, "You've already dealt with everyone outside, haven't you?" The Fiend simply tilted his head slightly in response. Tores let out a frustrated breath and activated his gauntlets again, causing them to crackle with electricity.

Tores charged forward, his metal-clad boots magnetically propelled him forward, closing the distance between him and The Fiend in an instant. He swung a powerful punch toward The Fiend's midsection, aiming to exploit the magnetism and deliver a crushing blow. However, The Fiend's lithe form evaded the attack with a graceful twist.

The room they fought in became a battleground of furniture and obstacles, each piece potentially offering an advantage. Tores's eyes caught a glint of metal in a nearby bookshelf. Seizing the opportunity, he manipulated the metal with his electromagnetism, sending a barrage of books hurtling toward The Fiend. The books spiraled through the air, their pages rustling with kinetic energy. The Fiend deftly sidestepped and weaved through the makeshift projectiles, his movements fluid and calculated.

Tores's gauntlets surged with electricity as he adjusted his strategy. He released charged bolts of energy from his gauntlets, each bolt crackling with power. The air was charged with the distinct scent of ozone as the energy shots shot through the air. Tores aimed for a metal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, envisioning it crashing down upon his opponent. The Fiend, however, proved to be an elusive target, his agile form evading the deadly energy with an uncanny sense of timing.

With each failed attempt, Tores grew more determined. He used electromagnetic energy to create barriers, attempting to box in The Fiend's movement. The air crackled as electromagnetic fields materialized, creating a complex maze of energy. The Fiend's response was a graceful dance, slipping through the gaps with a seamless ease that defied his armored form.

Undaunted, Tores charged forward once more, launching a series of punches and kicks in quick succession. Each strike was a calculated effort to catch The Fiend off guard. He aimed a fierce kick at a metal chair, intending to send it hurtling toward The Fiend's path. But The Fiend ducked and twisted, his agile form avoiding the makeshift projectile with ease. The chair crashed into the wall behind him, creating a shower of splinters.

In response, The Fiend struck back with precision and finesse. His armored fists became a blur of motion, and his serrated claws gleamed menacingly as they sliced through the air. He struck at Tores's exposed areas with calculated strikes. One of his claws raked across Tores's arm, leaving behind a trail of searing pain.

Undeterred, Tores summoned his remaining strength and charged forward once more. He launched a series of desperate strikes, each one infused with electromagnetic energy. The Fiend continued to evade with an almost supernatural fluidity, his movements a dance of agility and precision. Tores's attacks, once filled with determination, were now desperate attempts to regain the upper hand.

In a final attempt, Tores powered up his gauntlets and lunged forward with all his remaining energy. He aimed a powerful punch directly at The Fiend's midsection, the crackling energy surrounding his fist. The Fiend's response was swift, raising his forearm with impeccable timing. Tores's fist collided with The Fiend's armored forearm, the clash of metal against metal creating a deafening clang.

The impact was resounding, a shockwave rippling through the air. Tores's fist collided with The Fiend's armored forearm, the clash of metal against metal creating a deafening clang. The force of the blow reverberated through Tores's arm, causing him to wince in pain.

Tores winced as he clutched his broken hand, grimacing at the pain shooting through his fingers. He flexed it once, testing its range of motion, confirming what he already knew: the bones were fractured. His gaze shifted to The Fiend, who remained an enigma behind the featureless mask of his armor.

"What do you even want with them?" Tores directed his question at the silent figure before him. The Fiend's mask seemed to regard him impassively, an unyielding sentinel. The absence of any response from The Fiend prompted a resigned sigh to escape Tores's lips.

"What was I expecting," he muttered, his voice tinged with frustration and fatigue. He understood the futility of seeking answers from a relentless adversary like The Fiend. The lack of communication only deepened the mystery shrouding his motives.

Despite his battered body and dwindling strength, Tores's determination remained steadfast. He pressed on, adhering to The Guard's core principle: "Stay safe and keep others safe." He initiated his gauntlets once more, coaxing the last remnants of energy to spark to life.

*Well, I guess I'm not following the full motto,* Tores mused with a wry chuckle. He acknowledged the irony of the situation; while he might not be capable of keeping himself safe in this confrontation, he was determined to ensure the safety of others.

With the remaining energy in his gauntlets, Tores unleashed another surge of electricity toward The Fiend. However, this time, the attack lacked the potency it once held due to the dwindling power. The Fiend effortlessly swatted the electric arc aside.

As The Fiend's deliberate steps brought him closer to Tores, Tores continued to summon whatever strength remained in him, releasing feeble electric arcs that The Fiend easily swatted away. With each failed strike, Tores mentally accepted the impending outcome, a sense of resignation setting in. *Well, I guess this is it... Sorry for failing, captain,* he thought with a heavy heart, ready to meet his end.

However, a sudden interruption disrupted the grim proceedings. Just as The Fiend raised his serrated gauntlet for a potentially fatal strike, a loud clatter reverberated through the room. Tores' gaze shifted, his eyes widening in surprise, as a metal table was hurled in The Fiend's direction. Reacting with uncanny speed, The Fiend evaded the projectile, sidestepping it with eerie agility.

Tores laid his eyes on Larkin, who stood with an air of confidence, cracking his knuckles before addressing Tores, "Don't worry, kid, I ain't just gonna let you die." Larkin then shifted his gaze towards The Fiend, his tone terse and determined, "I don't got much to say to ya. So let's just do this." With an evident surge of magic empowering his entire body, Larkin propelled himself forward, hurtling towards The Fiend.