The Old Joker

Northern and Shin, from inside the enclosed cart, peeped out through the window, watching as Alystren dealt with the bandits.

Fascinatingly, he didn't seem to put any significant effort into it. His hands were crossed behind his back as he nimbly kicked them around.

His movements were fluid, like a well-practiced dance. His feet barely touched the ground, yet the force of each kick sent a bandit sprawling through the air.

The way he moved—almost as if the very air bent to his will—made it hard to believe the bandits stood any chance at all.

One of the braver ones charged Alystren from behind, a deadly blade drawn, but Alystren didn't even bother to turn around.

With a sharp pivot, he lifted his foot and kicked the bandit squarely in the chest, sending him flying back into a tree with a dull thud.

"Wow, he makes fighting look so easy…" Northern commented.

"It's probably his combat style," Shin replied.

"How so…?"