It didn’t take long for everyone to clear a large circle around Arwin and Mask. Nobody wanted to be caught up in the fight — but nobody wanted to miss out on it either. It wasn’t every day that two adventurers got in to a real fight. For them to accuse each other of treason and fight to the death only made this more of a spectacle. Only a fool would pass up on free entertainment and gossip, even if one of the combatants was only a smith.

Arwin was never one for an audience. He didn’t really love the idea of broadcasting just how much he was capable of. But this was necessary. If he wanted to keep Mask from accomplishing his goals, then there would have to be a few sacrifices made along the way.

And if I can pull this off right… well, I shouldn’t get ahead of myself.

“We’ve drawn quite the crowd,” Mask observed. He spun the blade in his hand like it was an extension of himself. He certainly wasn’t any stranger to fighting. “I suppose you really do like being the center of attention.”

“It comes with the job. Can’t market if people don’t see what my gear is capable of. You not as much a fan of all the eyes?” Arwin asked. “Worried that someone will see something you don’t want them to?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Mask said. “But standing in the way of the Guild makes your goals clear enough. There’s no organization in this world that does more for the sake of the kingdom. We support the Hero. We’re the ones on the front lines of the war, fighting to protect everyone here.”

A cold smile pulled at Arwin’s lips. There was a time when Mask’s words would have infuriated him. The man was so full of shit that it was a miracle it wasn’t bursting out from his mouth. He was clearly speaking for the benefit of the crowd that was listening in on them.

The Guild is the reason we’re in this war in the first place. But right now, the only thing I care about is what the hell your plans are with those class-stealing daggers. Nothing else matters.

“It’s ironic,” Arwin said. “I fully agree with just about everything you say. But that’s exactly how a skilled liar manipulates the facts, isn’t it?”

Confusion passed over Mask’s face. “What are you talking about?”

“Ready your weapons, traitor. I will suffer your existence not a moment longer than I need to,” Arwin said, lowering into a fighting stance. Mask wasn’t the only one who could play the crowd — especially when Rodrick had given him a few ideas to plant in the minds of everyone watching. “And you know exactly what I’m talking about. The Guild fights for the kingdom all right. Droves of them die by the day. And the Hero gives up more than anyone could ever comprehend for the sake of the people he fights for. But you — you’re no member of the Adventurer’s Guild at all.”

“Are you a fool?” Mask asked, aghast. He shook his head. “You think I’m a turncoat? I am a member of the guild — but it is of no matter. Twist words however you want to. The truth will come out with your death. You are a traitor to the Guild, Smith. I will put you down.”

If we’re talking about the Guild’s true goals, then I was a traitor long before I was a smith.

The fact that Mask was so eager to fight made at least part of his goal more evident to Arwin. For whatever reason, they needed to steal powerful magic with the dagger. And Arwin, smith or not, had proven he was worth killing after the Menagerie’s performance at the Proving Grounds.

Mask wouldn’t pass up a chance to get that kill. After all, Arwin didn’t come out from the Infernal Armory too often. Getting at him wasn’t going to be easy… unless he handed himself to the guild on a silver platter.

Excited chatter rolled through the growing crowd all around them. There were no shortage of witnesses, both to the fight and to the claims that both of them had made.

Arwin didn’t let the crowd distract him. He kept his focus entirely on Mask. Getting distracted for even an instant could mean the end. One cut was all the class-stealing dagger needed.

I can’t go all out. Not yet. I need to buy just a little more time.

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But the time for standing by idly was done.

Mask burst into motion. He lunged at Arwin, bringing the dagger carving out in a wide sweep. The strike wasn’t one that would do much damage at all if it had connected, but the other man’s only goal was to cut him.

“What are you running from?” Mask taunted as Arwin danced back. He lunged at him to slash with the dagger once more. “I thought you wanted to fight!”

“Dodging is fighting,” Arwin replied. He jumped back again. Mask wasn’t the fastest enemy he’d faced, but that wasn’t enough to bring his guard down. It could have been a bait to get Arwin to lower his guard. He couldn’t afford the risk. “Why don’t you tell us all what those daggers are really for, Mask?”

“They’re a tool,” Mask said. “Nothing more.”

He lunged at Arwin, driving the blade for his shoulder.

Arwin dodged away. His back nearly brushed across the watching spectators as he darted around Mask to make more space between them. Excited chatter filled the air, buzzing in Arwin’s ears like a hive of angry insects.

“I thought you accused me of being a traitor?” Mask taunted, advancing toward Arwin with measured steps. “If you truly believed that, then it would be your duty as an adventurer to strike me down. Yet you don’t even dare meet my blade.”

“Having a worthy goal does not mean you have to kill yourself in the process,” Arwin said. He leapt out of the way of another strike. But, this time, Mask’s hand suddenly accelerated.

Arwin bent himself at the middle. The dagger carved through his shirt, but it just barely missed scraping his chest. Mask’s face twisted in annoyance as Arwin jumped back again.

“What are you up to?” Mask demanded. “What is this? Challenge me and then run from even the slightest nick?”

“I don’t think anyone can fault me. Your daggers were pretty damn effective during the Proving Grounds.”

“I did not participate in the Proving Grounds,” Mask said, advancing toward Arwin again. “You’re talking nonsense. But you’re insane at best or a traitor at worst, so I can’t really be surprised.”

Arwin grunted. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Esemerelda shifting through the crowd. She gave him a sharp nod.

A cold smile cut across Arwin’s lips. He’d bought enough time. The Menagerie were ready. Now all that remained to do was for him to finish his end of the job without anyone picking up on their real goals.

Mask darted at Arwin once more.

“I have to say, I’ve got some questions for you. Not that I expect many of them will ever get an answer,” Arwin said as Mask closed the distance between them in a blur. “But there’s one I just have to know.”

He dodged to the side as Mask swept the dagger down through the air where he’d been a moment before.

“Yeah?” Mask asked, driving the blade at him again. The strike whistled just past Arwin’s hand, barely missing its mark. “And what’s that?”

“It doesn’t matter what everyone else thinks. You and I both know exactly what you’ve got in your hands,” Arwin said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “So why do you think I’d ever challenge you if I didn’t have a way to deal with it?”

“It doesn’t matter what you think,” Mask snarled. His dagger carved down toward Arwin’s chest. “You’re nothing but a smith!”

But, this time, Arwin made no move to dodge out of the way.

You’re up.

With pleasure.

And, with a crackling roar, Gehenna, the Dreadhusk arrived.

The armor enveloped Arwin in a snarl of furious black flame. Pressure exploded out from him as a loud clang rang out. Mask’s dagger bounced off the armor’s shoulder plate. The ground at Arwin’s feet trembled as energy poured out from him — but he was far from done.

With a thought, Arwin activated [Shroud of the Harbringer]. The black flame enveloping him roared higher still.

Mask’s eyes went wide as the pressure drove into his lungs. He stumbled back, forced to his knees, as abject fear replacing the malice that had been present within his expression just moments ago.

Arwin sent every single scrap of pressure he had to drive down into Mask’s shoulders. He couldn’t afford to leave anything to chance. Any cards the man was hiding had be played before they could take the next step.

“What… is that armor?” Mask rasped.

“Something I made to ensure I can deal with someone of your ilk,” Arwin replied. He extended a hand. Caldera slammed into his fists, already humming with bloodthirst. Black magma bubbled at the hilt of the hammer in anticipation. “Specially crafted to put you down.”

Mask tried to speak, but words were denied to him. He couldn’t even breathe in this state. He let out a snarl. Then his grip around the hilt of the dagger tightened. Mask’s eyes lit up like crimson candles.

Ruby veins raced up his fingers and along his hands to disappear beneath his sleeves. He raised the dagger before him once more and exhaled a slow breath that came out in a puff of sickly red steam. His grip around the weapon’s hilt tightened. Slowly, the tremors that had been tearing through his body faded as the faint hum of vibrating energy filled the air around him.

“We’ll see about that,” Mask growled. “You’re a liar. There’s no way someone like you made this armor… but you’ll tell me what I need to know in time.”

He’s taking me seriously now.

Arwin’s lips curled into a cold smile behind his helmet.

“We’ll see indeed.”

Let’s put on a show, Mask. It might be a little egotistical, but I have to admit… I’m curious to find out just how much this armor and the Infernal Armory are truly capable of.