The Supreme Mage in a Loser's Body

Ch 2 - The Only Warning

Rafe tried to pull his fist free. When it did not move, the smile disappeared from his face.

Kael could feel Ethan's fingers beginning to fail. The little magic supporting his arm would not last, and holding the larger man in place was wasting it. Before Rafe could pull again, Kael stepped to the outside of his arm and turned the trapped hand downward.

Rafe bent forward to relieve the pressure on his wrist. Kael placed a foot behind his heel and pushed his elbow. The collector dropped onto one knee hard enough to knock a loose screw across the floor.

“Let go!” Rafe said, reaching for Kael's shirt with his free hand.

Kael turned the wrist another fraction. Rafe stopped reaching.

“Move back,” Kael said to the family.

Elena caught Thomas beneath one arm and helped him toward the wall. Maya followed, still holding the broken mop handle. She nearly stumbled over a box because she kept looking at Kael instead of the floor.

Rafe's two men had stopped in the doorway. Neither had expected to see their collector kneeling in front of someone they had beaten unconscious a few hours earlier.

“Are you waiting for permission?” Rafe asked them. “Get him off me!”

The nearer man grabbed a metal bar from beside the worktable.

Kael released Rafe and stepped back as the bar swung at his head. It struck the edge of the table, scattering tools. The attacker tried to lift it again, but Kael caught his forearm with both hands and drove it against the wooden edge. His fingers opened, and the bar fell.

Pain spread through Kael's ribs. He could not afford a second struggle. He pushed the man's head down and drove his knee into his face, then let him fall against the table.

The other man was already coming around Rafe.

Kael saw the punch and turned, but Ethan's injured leg moved too slowly. The blow caught his shoulder and knocked him sideways into a shelf. A broken fan fell beside him. His vision blurred for an instant, and he tasted blood.

“Ethan!” Elena said.

She started forward, but Thomas held her arm. There was nowhere for her to reach him without passing the attacker.

The man grabbed Kael's shirt and pulled him away from the shelf. Kael let himself be dragged forward. Resisting would only spend strength he did not have.

When the man's other fist rose, Kael stepped across his leading foot and turned beneath the arm gripping his shirt. He pulled the wrist close to his chest and bent forward. The man's own movement carried him over Kael's hip and into the corner of the worktable.

The table shifted. A lamp rolled off and broke, and the attacker dropped to the floor with both hands pressed against his side.

Kael stayed bent for a moment longer than he intended.

Two cracked ribs. Damaged muscles. A heartbeat that still could not keep a steady rhythm. He knew exactly what this body could withstand, but knowing did not make it stronger.

Behind him, Rafe got to his feet.

Maya raised the mop handle as the collector passed her. Rafe caught the end and tore it from her hands, pushing her back against the wall.

Kael turned before Rafe could reach for her again.

He placed his palm against the collector's chest and released a short push of force.

Rafe staggered backward into a metal cabinet. Its doors rattled, and a plastic container fell from the top. He struck the cabinet with his shoulder and slid down against it, struggling to breathe.

Kael lowered his hand immediately.

The effort had used more than he intended. His fingers went numb, and a sharp pain beneath his ribs forced him to take a shallow breath. He swallowed the blood in his mouth before Elena could see it.

“Maya, come here,” Thomas said.

Maya moved to her father's side, but her eyes remained on Kael's hand. She had been close enough to see how little he had moved it.

Rafe braced himself against the cabinet and looked at his men. One was sitting beneath the table with blood running from his nose. The other had rolled onto his knees but made no attempt to stand.

“You know what happens now?” Rafe asked.

Kael moved between him and the family. He kept one hand near the worktable in case his leg gave way.

“You leave,” Kael replied. “Your men go with you.”

Rafe gave a breathless laugh.

“You think you can hit us and cancel a debt?” he asked.

“The added interest is finished,” Kael said. “Bring the original agreement and a record of every payment.”

Ethan's memories contained the amounts, but they came mixed with hurried conversations, threats, and the shame of returning home without enough money. Kael would not accept the collector's version of what remained unpaid.

Thomas shifted beside Elena.

“We have the receipts,” Thomas said. “Most of them. Some weeks they took the money and said they would bring the receipt next time.”

Rafe wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Those were collection fees,” he replied.

“You called them payments when you took them,” Thomas said.

His voice shook, but he did not look away. Elena's fingers tightened around his arm.

Kael watched Rafe rather than turning toward Thomas. The collector had stopped rubbing his injured wrist. His right hand rested against his thigh, close to his pocket.

“You heard him,” Kael said. “Account for the money you took. Remove what you added.”

“I don't change the numbers,” Rafe replied. “I collect them.”

“Then tell the person who does,” Kael said.

Rafe looked up at him. “The debt belongs to Marcus Vale now,” he said. “You want to give orders? Go give them to him.”

The name brought a brief memory to Kael: Ethan standing outside a warehouse, holding an envelope in both hands while men at the entrance laughed at him. Marcus Vale led the Iron Vipers. Even Rafe had lowered his voice when speaking to him on the phone.

Kael had no memory of meeting Marcus himself.

“Tell Marcus what happened here,” Kael said. “Make sure you explain why.”

“He won't care why,” Rafe replied. “He'll care that you put your hands on his people.”

Elena stepped closer to Kael, keeping behind his shoulder.

“Let them go, Ethan,” she said. “Please. You need to sit down.”

Kael wanted to tell her that sitting would not repair the damage. Then he noticed that she was staring at his sleeve. Fresh blood had soaked through where the shelf had caught his arm.

She was not thinking about who had won. She was watching her son bleed.

“In a moment,” Kael replied.

Thomas pulled a chair away from the wall with his free hand. Its legs scraped across the floor, and Kael nearly turned at the sound. He stopped himself when Rafe shifted his weight.

The collector had noticed his weakness too.

“Look at you,” Rafe said. “You can hardly stand.”

Kael moved his hand away from the table. The room tilted slightly, but he kept his feet beneath him.

“Then you should have no trouble getting past me,” he replied.

Rafe did not move.

For several seconds, the only sounds were the rain against the cracked window and the injured man breathing beneath the table. Kael could hear another engine passing outside. Beyond the broken shopfront, people were continuing with their day.

No one had come inside to help this family.

“Get up,” Kael said to the two men. “Slowly.”

The one with the bleeding nose pulled himself upright using the table. His companion reached for the metal bar on the floor, then stopped when Kael looked at him. He left it where it lay and struggled to his feet without it.

Rafe watched them move toward the doorway.

“You were begging this morning,” he said to Kael. “Couldn't even look at me. Now you expect me to believe you're not afraid?”

Kael remembered fragments of that morning through Ethan: a boot against his ribs, his cheek against the floor, the effort of asking them not to hurt his father. The fear belonged to a dead man, but the injuries were still here.

“I expect you to leave,” Kael said.

Rafe pushed himself away from the cabinet. His left hand rose, palm open, as though he meant to show he was finished.

His right hand slipped into his pocket.

Kael saw the movement and shifted forward. A folding knife opened beside Rafe's thigh, its blade catching the light from the ceiling.

But it was the ring on Rafe's hand that stopped Kael's attention.

A faint trace of magic came from beneath the black metal. It was weak enough that he had missed it during the fight. Now, with Rafe's fingers tightening around the knife, Kael felt the power move.

He knew the pattern. He had encountered the same method of binding magic into metal in the Nine Realms.

Rafe lifted the knife, unaware that Kael was no longer looking at the blade.

An ordinary gang collector on Earth was wearing magic from the world that had tried to kill him.