The plan was going slightly awry but Oscar knew they still had control over the situation. As Ishmael seized Ingrid's opening to launch the fireball he had been holding in his palm: “Kaesh!”

“It's not nice to mock someone else's phobia,” Oscar moved in front of it, “Inhalación!”

A good portion of the fire found itself twirling in the air before being sucked into Oscar’s palm. The rest still burned his hand but he could live with a few more scars. ‘Twas a shame he didn’t have the mana reserve to properly replenish his magic using that technique though. Thankfully, his opponent did not have to be aware of this nor of the fact he only had one spell left.

Ingrid used the distraction to push through her traumatophobia and hide under some furniture. She needed a better opening.

“Another fire mage?” 

So he didn't smell the lavender or connect the dots? Good.

“In the flesh.”

“Some second-rate Healer and Mage to take me on? How flattering.” Ishmael huffed with pride, “I’m surprised you think you can even take me on.”

Shit, this was not good.

Despite his big words, Ishmael was very much aware of the situation he was in. Two seemingly experienced fighters against him, powers hampered and not in combat gear at all. The rolling pin was already showing its limits after being swung at full super-force for an extended period of time.  

He needed to focus, remember his childhood idol’s words.

“Never lose sight of your opponents.”

That second one was pitifully hiding in a corner of the room and the first one was still trying to get a clean hit in. 

“Secure an escape route.”

The window of his living room was the only thing preventing him from jumping onto his balcony. He could reach the fire exit from here.

“Never doubt yourself.”

Yes. It was obvious. He would win this!

“Things never go as pla-”

He just needed a way to distract these two long enough. 

At first, Ishmael thought about the fire alarm but he unplugged all of his smoke detectors for training and general life quality. Same reason his place was made soundproof… Dammit.

However, he could attempt something else. He put his free hand behind him to concentrate a large amount of heat into it while also charging energy into his grip on the pin.

His current opponent, the intruder with the brass knuckles rushed him with strikes that he could not simply dodge in this posture due to their precision and strengths.

“You’re pretty good,” he taunted, “Too bad I’m smarter.”

Oscar got thrown off by Ishmael which led to the younger Saint chanting: “Yamen Esh!” before blocking the left hand of his assailant and burning it with the magic he infused in it. Oscar had never quite felt this level of pain before. That man’s hand was comparable to lava, rendering his own hand useless. The bracing knuckle melted and broke down in a matter of seconds.

Ishmael was confident this could buy him enough time. His assailant already burned his other hand while this one was incapacitated for a month at least. He was winning!

“A-rank really are monsters, eh,” laughed Oscar, “Too bad you’re dumb.”

In a matter of seconds, he kicked Ishmael in the gut to make him lose his grip, before choking him with his still burning hand. “You… powered through… the pain?”

The horror in Ishmael’s voice made Oscar snicker: “You think you’re my first rodeo?”

“No… but… I’ll be the last!” yelled the boy back as he swung his pin which was easily caught by Oscar.

“Did you really thi-”

“Nipetz!”

Oscar’s arrogance cost him big time as all the energy Ishmael accumulated within the rolling pin came through as a sizable explosion that knocked him almost fully unconscious. But worst of all? Part of his jacket, his mask, even his fingers…. found themselves on the floor.

When Ishmael saw the damage caused by his explosion, he almost felt bad. That is until he saw the intruder scramble to pick up every scrap to put it in his remaining pocket. This guy was just as unhinged as his partner. Too bad the flames, smoke, and his clothing still prevented him from being recognizable.

“Dude, you should be more preoccupied by your condition.”

“Noevidencenoevidencenoevidencenoevidence.”

“What?”

Ishmael didn’t get any answer besides a tackle from the ex-football player. The good news was that he found himself closer to the window than ever. The bad one was that the impact was so violent he felt like a couple of his bones got broken when he hit the frame.

He tried to turn his blood-colored saliva into some kind of fireball but the damage was negligible compared to his opponent’s rage, and his reserves were running dry. He tried to taunt his way out of the hold.

“Typical… savagery from a Red Mage” spat Ishmael as he freed his arms from the hold by overeating them, “If you needed to become a Red Mage to… even compete against me during a home invasion… only to bring me to a draw…  then you must suck as a Saint, don’t you?”

Oscar’s instincts were completely taking over and blocking every sound that was not relevant for his mission. His opponent’s breathing, bones cracking, the crackles of a fire…

…crackles from a fire?!

A fireball was thrown in the direction of Ingrid’s hideout, followed by the usual chanting: “Esh!” In truth, Ishmael had trouble aiming since the room was starting to be covered with smoke, but he knew his flat well-enough to remember that girl’s position.

His idea to get out proved correct when his opponent let go of him to rush and poorly catch the fireball. He got hit once more and disappeared into the smoke. This time he would stay down, no matter how resilient!

To bring a final touch to his current camouflage and ensure he’d get enough leeway to break his window, Ishmael clasped both of his hands: “Shedim Deh-rekh. Havel Pateh!” an horizontal arc of flames engulfed the area before him, combusting and releasing toxic cinders and smoke.

If his current opponent was a conventional Fire Mage, then the smoke and cinder typical of this technique were things he could not absorb. This was the most a mono-elemental Mage like him could toy with elements he had no control over.

Furthermore, he had one final trick up his sleeve. In a quiet mutter, he chanted: “Emet Kfufa” and started to alter reality as much as he could muster. By heating up the atmosphere and his surroundings to an absurd degree, the foam generated mixed with the smoke he already produced was messing with the brain and senses of his opponents.

Confident in his ability, he moved sideways and fiddled with the knob.

“Zrychlení.”

Until he saw those sharp orange lights.

“Did you really think I’d have nothing against those little tricks?”

The Healer! He had forgotten her. The punishment for such a grave misstep came in the form of a sharp pain in the ribs. Shit, he forgot to get rid of her metal bat and now his camouflage got removed alongside another gallon of blood.

At least he could keep her at bay by deflecting a few more of her attacks… Sure, her spell made her faster… but… he could take her on… he would…

“Inhalación.”

No fucking way.

Ishmael heard this sentence much too close to his ear for his comfort. Thankfully he managed to pivot just in time to avoid a punch reinforced by the brass knuckles of his wielder that could have put him out of commission.

He wasn’t sure what horrified him the most. The fact he could still get up seemingly without any support from his partner, or the fact the smoke of the room got cleared in an instant.

“...you aren’t…?”

“Never… said… I was…”

“...but… the illusion…”

“Being obsessed with efficiency has its perks,” yelled Ingrid as if it wasn’t supposed to be taunt but a threat instead, “A friend of us prepared a filter on our masks after stalking you.”

“...you… freaks!”

“And now you die!”

Ingrid hit him for another clean hit to the side. The pain was unbearable. Ishmael’s mind went into overdrive. Many thoughts flashed in his mind.

Only one trail of thought mattered though.

No. There had to be a rational explanation. There had to be a way out of this. The smoke being cleared could have been a result of his ventilation system… or… or…

Wait.

Breathe.

Think.

What did he need to do?

“Secure an escape route.”

“Secure an escape.”

“GET OUT!”

That’s right.

He could not give up so close to the window of his balcony. Screw the property, he was going all out. Adrenaline was helping him regain his balance and deflect everything. He used the small window where both of his opponents thought he would fall down from the pain and exhaustion.

Taping his right foot on the floor, he whispered: “Komat-Esh.” creating a small field of fire around him that forced both of his assailants to back down and melting the glass behind him.

He put his left foot on top of the liquid, not caring about the pain, and allowing him the leeway to break the glass by jumping through it in a matter of seconds after his last trick.

He opened his palms and directed them at his two enemies, charging one of his most powerful spells. Truthfully, Ishmael hoped he would not have to incinerate them but…

“Akal E-!”

…nothing ever goes as planned.

“You’re not pulling a fast one on us!” 

Without a moment of hesitation, Oscar grabbed Ishmael’s palms and plucked them with his nails.

“Jeringa de aire.”

The wind Oscar infused with the last of his magic penetrated Ishmael’s bloodstream, the source of any magic created ex-nihilo. A few seconds were all that Ishmael needed to realize the gravity of his lapse in judgment. 

“You’re a multi-elemental-?!”

The wind and fire mixed together and the resulting explosion was nothing they’d ever seen before. Unfortunately, this mission ended up being a first for a lot of things none of its three participants were willing to ever experience.

The window completely disintegrated from the sheer force of the blast, completely ruining the soundproofing of the room. The building’s fire alarm even ended up being activated through a smoke detector upstairs, flooding the room in the process.

What followed made the Healer turn around and grab her paper bag to puke in it. A blood curdling scream, and a real vision of nightmare unfolded before them.

The fact Ingrid even partially removed her mask did not matter to Ishmael who was in pure agony to the point of almost being unable to see. His body had completely rejected the wind which created the explosion a bit before his elbow. His hands had been completely separated from the rest of his body which was wriggling in pain at the burns all over it. He was also losing blood at rapid speed but the contract stipulated that he had to be kept alive.

As soon as he recovered, Oscar rushed to the side of their target. The stress of the situation rejuvenated him.

After dragging him inside, he could confirm one good news: Ishmael was still breathing. He was short of breath but could not remove his mask. He needed to keep it together. This was far beyond what he wished to happen. It was only a little wind after all! His and Ingrid’s threats were just said in the what of the moment. He didn’t want to kill someone younger than him for some stupid lover’s quarrels.

However, he had forgotten the most important rule of their business: “When facing high-ranking Saints, throw away all common sense and natural laws, because they will break them all in their display of pure power.”

Feeling himself tremble, he called out to his partner: “Ingrid.”

This mission was an absolute disaster, and her phobias were completely crushing her. The water of the fire alarm mixed perfectly with the blood, sweat, and her own tears. Was this punishment for her threats at the younger Saint?At this rate they would be caught. She felt like puking again.

“Ingrid! Please!”

Nevermind, she held it in.

Hearing Oscar’s voice drowning in panic made her momentarily snap out of her own trance. They needed to finish the contract and get out. However, that body, the blood, the smell, the rain, the yells, those scars… Ingrid felt like her soul was leaving her body, but she held it in again, trying her best not to cry. They had to leave no fingerprint or DNA trace, hence the paper bag. 

First, they needed to cauterize the wound. She could not reattach his limbs or regrow them, neither with tools nor her magic, but she knew how to stop people from bleeding. This could… this could work out.

“Mael! Hey Mael! Are you okay?!” These desperate cries and the frantic banging on the door put both of the mercenaries in a panic. It seemed like a witness was trying to break down the entrance. If they did, they would have to leave and not finish the contract, otherwise they would get caught. What to do? What to…

As she felt herself faint from the stress, Oscar slapped her awake before hugging her. “This was not the original plan but I beg of you: Focus.” His voice was tender which heavily contrasted with his actions. “Keep the target alive and finish the contract. I’ll keep that other guy busy.” She nodded.

However, before leaving he whispered to her: “This is all of my fault. I underestimated the power of the blast, and you have done nothing wrong.” These words sent a shock down her spine. She was not responsible for this mess. She could still be useful! Seeing the fire in her eyes, Oscar rushed to the entrance, throwing her the bag of tools he left there, and putting himself in front of the locked door.

She got this.