MIDAS

Swinging his arm while dashing forward, the Brawler left the crumbled building behind, sandstone beams extending from the sand out from both sides that somehow remained, the entire front of the taller building missing. Iyana lay on the floor motionless, the young girl shaking her.

Midas wasn't able to scan the remains of the building nor Iyana's condition, as he was forced to watch the brawler swing at Haya. Completely ignoring Grad cutting his hip with his dagger, Haya was thrown back into one of the surrounding huts.

Exclaiming a groan as the back of his head collided with the façade of the hut, Haya wasn't quick enough to react to the enemy's following punch, crushing the stone wall as his force pushed him into the building. His shaky forearms loosely covering his head, he laid eyes on the Brawler charging into him. Dust and broken stone filling up the unused space of the abandoned home.

Midas clenched his teeth watching his partner get beat without the chance of countering in any way; his right arm aching with every motion, the boy tried to search for any chance of opening a window of time to Haya, remembering the same feeling of being unhelpful, the same feeling he had felt when Alma shoved him down the tunnel after the invasion began. „Graf, climb on the roof…!"

Stressed, the driver glanced over towards the boy, as the Brawler focused his full attention onto Haya. His widened eyes switching in between Midas and the brawler swinging his club at the dust that escaped the building.

Giving Graf the chance to act, trusting what he saw Alma do with the little Mana he had assured the boy to have, he loosely threw his sickle against the Brawler, slightly stepping back as another scream escaped the crumbling room. „Trust me here! Make that roof crumble in on itself!" Midas shouted once more, his sight fixated on the black hood of the enemy.

Hissing at the boy, mumbling suppressed curses from between his closed sets of teeth, Graf made haste to grapple up the side of the building, using a conveniently placed crate left unused at the side of the hut to grasp the edge of the short building, lifting himself up with a dry groan, as the Brawler lost sight of Haya, not able to even see his own hand in the foggy room, sharp aromas of spices leaving its windows. 

Once at the roof, Graf placed his palms onto the mud surface that formed the roof, the glow of his necklace ramping up as his eyes began to wrinkle, trying his best to establish a flow of mana that passed from his hands into the dried earth of the building. Trying to cut out the scraping of the wooden club against the inner walls of the hut from his mind, it took a short while until a crack began to form. Uncontrolled, it expanded, reaching out into the corners of the flat roof, before finally reconnecting on the other side of it; the earth in between the cracks fell down with ease, breaking apart even before it hit the Brawler's head and upper back area.

Haya saw the dim light of the sun illuminating the dust that had formed from collapsed mud and spice jars being destructed, his head held up high, barely avoiding the brawler's swing as he saw crumbling rock fall onto his enemy, fragments of stone falling from right in front of him down onto the living quarters of whoever had lived here. 

Is forearms where aching, yet still useable in a fight, Haya didn't waste any time, as the Brawler used his right arm as cover from above, the massive wood in his left used to hold himself onto his feet. While blocking the impact of the stone, he let his hip go unprotected, perfect for Haya to act upon. Dashing right in front of his enemy, as he took his time to glance at the skies, he prepared his fingers to be curled up again once more; with a flat hand and extended knuckles, he pressed into the light flesh wound of the brawler.

Forcing his neck to twist his head in pain, the man masked in black swung at Haya as he passed by, barely scoring a hit onto his face as Haya came flying out of the destructed wall, in which the entrance used to be built in. Blood squirting out of his hip, the enemy tried his best to cover up the now deepened wound with his broad palm, looking out at Graf again before beginning to charge once more. His huffing and groaning sounding more desperate, as he barely managed to walk with straight feet, tumbling on the sand slightly as he held out for another swing.

Midas looked back on the Brawler, the heat of the sun as well as the stinging pain of his shoulder and forearm forcing him onto his knees once again, able to see that another cut had been made onto the left calf, the other having a dark blue spot on it, puzzling the boy slightly as he looked back onto Haya, unable to wonder if he was able to use Mana as well. 

Graf, exhausted and barely holding himself back from just fleeing the fight in its entirety, shakily held onto the short blade, barely able to pull himself away from another strike directed towards the sand. As multiple grains of sand were kicked up by the impact of the wood, the driver struck, his heart stuck in his throat; he dashed to the left of the enemy, unprotected, as the Brawler was not quick enough to move his massive hand back. 

With quick, rapid motions, he pushed his blade into the flesh of the enemy multiple times, before stabbing into the lower part of the muscular torso. Unable to avoid another swing, Graf went down as the massive wood hit right onto his nose. Knocking him out, making him fall flat onto the sand. Midas was only able to watch as his body had sunken to lay onto his forearms, his eyes unable to accept the view in front of him; the boy avoided setting sight on the enemy, raising his wood up once more, ready to deal the final blow.

His right releasing a slight tingling sensation from its normally numb fingers, as a nearly unremarkable glow escaped from the bandages covering the stone slab. Waking the boy up, feeling his fingers aching in extreme pain as he raised his right hand out to the Brawler, his eyes widening as he saw a slight tremble escape the enemy's grasp, before finally evolving into a shaking. A gust of dry air was enough to end the Brawler's reign, as the boy watched him collapse onto himself right in front of him. 

Damp clunking escaped the wood as it fell onto the dunes; the Brawler lay on his back, his right hand stained in red, as both of his sides began to leak red into the dry grains of sand. Midas watched himself fall onto his chin, his right hand losing any will to be raised up, falling onto the same grains his enemy, Haya and Graf, had.

"Haya! You selfless... I don't want to dare say it right in front of our companions..." Fleeing towards her partner, shouting in a trembling voice. Iyana was the only one to remain on her feet, laying her hands onto his right cheek, a few bits of blood leaking from the impact. Haya wrinkled his eyes as Iyana touched his skin, crouching over him with great worry as she tried her best to treat his wounds. Looking back at Iyana, the young girl, she started to keep Midas awake, her hands laying on his back as she began to shake the boy, glancing at him to make sure his eyes were still open.

Inaya was surrounded by fallen-over bodies, their leather clothing flapping around in the wind, as she looked down to Haya, his slim eyes looking up to the uncountable sum of tiny dark holes spanning her metal mask, forming a bridge from one eye to another, watching her rub a red paste onto his cheek, her exposed fingertips slightly stained with its color, as she dipped her fingers into the tiny flask hid behind her cloth.

Groaning in a dry manner, Graf eventually got onto his feet again, rubbing his head with an unpleased expression pressed onto his face. His still trembling hands made haste to collect his dagger again. "My head... This bastard—a pack of good-for-nothings... I hate this place, one nuisance after another..." Hissing as he looked at the young girl shaking the boy, lightly kicking against Midas's ankle for making him use his mana in such a way, embarrassed to be forced by a child to act heroic.

Scanning the scene, he looked back at the destructed hut while rambling to himself; on the way to enter the room, he did not pay much attention to Inaya, leaving her to her own worry as he scanned the ravaged scene, his eyes finally grasping a long piece of rope left behind by the owner of the hut. 

"Yeah... That will do for sure. I want answers..." he said to himself, grasping the old rope, while heading out again.