"Okay. I've heard you out." I gestured vaguely toward the alley entrance. "Now I'm leaving. I have a companion, which means if I want to communicate, I can do it naturally. As for your… 'communication'? Forget it. I'm not interested."
Their smiles remained, but the temperature behind their eyes changed.
The tall one's voice hardened. "To be dismissive of our kindness…"
The short one stepped forward, shoulders squaring, his eagerness turning into aggression. "As a rookie mage, you need to learn respect. We'll be happy to teach you."
I took one step forward—subtly putting myself between them and Daniel. Not because I thought Daniel needed protecting, but because I wanted control over the flow of the fight.
Finally.
I was wondering when the masks would drop.
"After all that nonsense," I said, "you're still going to fight, right? Come on, then. I've been waiting for you to commit."
Their smiles vanished.
That moment—when a predator realizes you're not afraid—always changes the room. Their posture shifted, their magic tightened, and I felt the faint hum of spellwork gathering like pressure before a storm.
The shorter mage struck first.
He snapped his hand outward.
Two trash bins near the alley entrance lifted into the air—huge, filthy, overflowing with garbage and leaking something dark and wet. They flew toward us like battering rams, heavy enough to crush ribs, fast enough to make dodging annoying.
Telekinesis. Crude, but effective in a narrow space.
Daniel's shoulder moved—he was about to intercept—
But I was faster.
I raised my wand.
"Protego!"
A shimmering barrier snapped into existence in front of us, barely visible except for the way the air rippled like heat haze. The trash bins slammed into it and bounced back violently, reversing course with the same force.
The two attackers clearly hadn't expected that.
Their eyes widened as their own garbage projectiles came screaming back at them.
In the cramped alley, they didn't have room for elegant evasion. They had to defend.
The tall mage moved in a strange, dance-like sequence—hands weaving fast, precise patterns. When the bins reached him, he thrust both palms forward and caught them midair with invisible force, lowering them to the ground with a heavy, wet thud.
Not bad.
Control under pressure.
But he didn't get a chance to feel proud.
Because I was already moving.
Three quick steps and I was inside his comfort zone, close enough that his spellwork couldn't simply "float" me away without risking hitting his partner or himself. My body remembered combat the way your lungs remember air. It wasn't conscious. It was automatic.
Foot between his legs.
Right hand grabs collar.
Pull him off-balance.
Use his body as cover.
My elbow slammed into his chin.
The strike landed clean, brutal, efficient.
His eyes rolled back. His body went slack.
One down.
I held him upright like a puppet, using his unconscious form as a shield. Through the gap under his armpit, I extended my wand toward the shorter mage, who was rushing forward, hands glowing with another telekinetic pull.
"Stupefy!"
Red light shot out and hit him square in the chest.
He dropped like a sack of potatoes, unconscious before he hit the pavement.
I turned back to the tall mage in my grip. He was already starting to stir—tougher than I'd hoped. The hit had rattled him, but adrenaline and magical conditioning were bringing him back faster than a normal person.
Can't have that.
"Petrificus Totalus."
His body snapped rigid. Limbs locked. Jaw clenched in mid-breath.
I released him.
He toppled backward like a felled tree and hit the pavement with a solid thunk.
Two mages.
Decent ability.
Neutralized in under two minutes.
I lowered my wand, breathing steady, adrenaline singing through my veins like it always did after a clean fight. My heart wasn't racing from fear.
It was racing from satisfaction.
The wand works. Combat magic works.
Good to know.
Daniel stood a few feet away, staring at me like he'd just watched a documentary on "things teenagers should not be able to do."
His surprise wasn't subtle. His expression had that mix of disbelief and recalculating respect that says: Okay, you weren't exaggerating. You're actually dangerous.
I kept my hood up for another second, letting him sit in the moment. Then I spoke, breaking the silence.
"Well," I said lightly, "I think that answers the question about my magical level."
Daniel blinked, then let out a surprised laugh—genuine, not polite. "Master Abel… I have to admit, that was impressive."
"Thanks," I replied, glancing down at the wand in my hand. It hummed faintly, content, like it had enjoyed being useful.
Daniel's amusement faded into practicality fast, because that was how he survived. "We shouldn't stay. Others may have noticed."
I scanned the alley mouth. Notice-Me-Not was still holding. The street beyond remained oblivious. Good.
"They'll wake up with headaches," I said. "And wounded pride."
Daniel's gaze flicked to the two unconscious bodies. "Do you intend to erase their memory?"
I hesitated.
Because there was a line I hadn't crossed yet in this world, and I could feel it like a cliff edge under my feet. Memory charms were powerful. Useful. Terrifying. Also a slippery slope into becoming the kind of person who solved every problem by rewriting minds.
"I don't have a clean Obliviate yet," I said honestly. "And I'm not doing it sloppily."
Daniel nodded slowly, accepting that answer even if he didn't fully approve.
"Master Abel," Daniel said quietly, "are you sure you are only sixteen?"
I let out a breath through my nose—almost a laugh, but not quite. "Physically? Yeah."
"And mentally?"
"Much older".
Daniel didn't push. He didn't ask how, or why, or what trauma shaped that kind of answer. He just nodded like a man adding one more strange fact to a world already overflowing with them.
"We should go," he said again.
I gave one last look at the two unconscious mages on the pavement. Their robes were cheap.