Nikto’s movements were fascinating, each was brought to automatism, Karina, who studied at the Academy, saw this and understood how he, having made a lunge, returned to a defensive position. It lasted for seconds and the inexperienced viewer, perhaps, didn’t notice such trifles. But Karina saw it. Previously, she didn’t notice them either, in the heat of escape there was no time for that. And she didn’t take his battles in the Coliseum seriously, considering them staged through and through. Now she realized that in a real battle he acted as in a production. This meant that these movements were literally hammered in his subcortex. One –attack, two – starting position, three – defense. One, two, three. One. Two. Three. Like a dance. Karina regretted that the owner of the Lower Coliseum and Dim Al, in pursuit of money, forced him to play, not allowing him to open up.

The frantic fight between Nikto and Bey continued. And despite the mechanical movements of Nikto, the worst thing was not this, but the fact that his face didn’t change expression, it was like a mask. Not a single muscle flinched, and the lips were not compressed, maybe even relaxed, not a sound escaped from them. The detached face. This frightened and delighted Karina at the same time. Not human, she thought. Without emotion and impeccably perfected technique, his father would have been proud of him. But he is not human. No improvisation, no risky actions dictated by human emotions, anger or impatience. In her opinion, he missed a few good chances to take risks. But he didn't take the risk. Slowly but surely, step by step, bringing the enemy to the idea that he cannot win. Well-thought-out movements, well-thought-out tactics. Boring, but no risk. Why does he do this? “I'll ask him about it later,” thought Karina. While everything is clear anyway, there is too much at stake. And Nikto interferes in the course of events, and Bey's people don’t interfere, seeing that there is no direct threat to their master. And Bey is gradually getting tired. Karina, Edin Ol, Tobias Bat, Mike Rout and other remaining warriors stood as if enchanted and looked at this endless duel, which was becoming more and more sluggish, and in the actions of Nikto and the tired Bey, nothing foreshadowed any sharp development of events. And suddenly the observers didn’t understand how it happened, but a furious cry, almost an animal howl of Bey, as if brought them out of their torpor or confusion. Bey, who fighting a second ago, was lying on the ground, and his hand, still gripping the sword, lay at a distance, and blood gushed from it like a fountain.

Finally realizing what had happened and will now begin, Karina again rushed at Edin Ol, but he didn’t even think to attack. He rushed to Black Bey, picking him up, dragging him away from Nikto. The rest scattered disgracefully. And Nikto was standing. Karina sank to the ground with an exhalation. That was all.

However, she hastened a little in her conclusions, not all of them fled. Toby stood in front of Nikto in a classic stance with a twisted face, his sword tightly gripped in his hand. And Nikto, looking at him, without changing his face, raised his sword too. Their duel, according to the canons of the Academy, didn’t last long. Disarmed, Toby was lying on the tombstone in front of his opponent with his hand twisted in a classic manner. For a while they looked at each other as if examining.

“Well? Kill!” Fear flashed in Toby's eyes, but he held out with all his might, trying to look at Nikto with a challenge.

“No,” Nikto shook his head, “you are not my enemy.”

Toby involuntarily glanced towards the runaway friends.

“Letting go? Are you keeping alive?”

Nikto caught his eye.

“If you want to stay alive, forget about them. And in no case return to the village of swamps.”

Toby's face twisted in fear.

“What? What's there?!”

Nikto didn’t answered this question.

“Go out on the tract,” he waved his hand, “this way. And go back to town.”

“What should I do there?!”

“Start a new life. Go to Tol and tell him everything. Say that I asked for you.”

“As if he will believe me!”

“Tol will believe. Return to the “Upper” to the Academy and finish your studies. Find yourself a good girl and forget everything that came before. Forget Arel!”

Toby chuckled bitterly.

“It's easy to say,” he involuntarily ran his fingers over the disfigured mouth. He rose from the slab, looked at Nikto without fear:

“Is it easy for you to forget what's on your face?”

They looked at each other. Nikto bowed to him. Almost face to face. Letting him see himself, his scars, his tattoos on the cheeks.

“This is not about me,” finally said Nikto calmly. “But…” he hesitated, “I'm trying. I'm trying, Toby.”

He flinched when Nikto called him by name.

“You need a family,” Nikto pulled away from him, stepping back and letting him get up.

Toby chuckled bitterly, brushing dust and moss off his clothes.

“And where would you advise me to look for a family? Maybe at the market on a market day?” And he laughed sadly.

“If only so. Good luck!” Nikto turned away from him, leaving.

“And… and to you…” Toby, who had become very serious again, barely uttered.

Nikto approached Karina:

“Let's go,” he said simply.

Karina got up.

“You know,” she said a little later, as they left the woodland cemetery and almost reached the Royal Route. “This is some kind of nightmare, Nik! And the feeling that we were like the heroes of some adventure novel never left me all the time. A very bad novel, I would say!”

Chapter four

Encampment

“Let's stop here,” said Nikto, heavily sinking into the grass.

“Yes. Okay,” agreed Karina. She herself liked this cozy forest clearing, surrounded by bushes on all sides. “Here is a small lake, we can wash ourselves.»

“Yes,” Nikto said, and in his voice she felt the fatigue. He sat down on the grass, as usual stretching out his lame leg, and his healthy leg slightly bent at the knee, and, slightly lowering his head, stared blankly in front of him at one point. She saw that he was not at all looking at the clover leaves that grew in abundance there, but was looking at the grass as a background that helped to delve into his thoughts. His eyes were blank, and he stared ahead unseeingly. And Karina, looking at him and remembering what happened to them today, once again thought that his sweet and so soft appearance with delicate neat features, devoid of any brutality and rigidity, didn’t at all fit with his actions, with the way he behaved – tough and fearless.

“How can you be so soft on the outside and so strong on the inside!” She thought. “This body doesn't suit him at all. All the same, the men of the “upper white race” are too cute, however, this is not surprising, because they are absolutely peaceful people, not at all like “black” or “red” ones.”

She said:

“You fought so hard now, one against all! Was it very difficult for you?”

“Yes, this was a fucking disaster,” he said, still looking in front of him, in a voice devoid of any intonations, so simple and everyday.

And Karina froze, stunned by such an unexpected response. With his answers, he periodically confused her, she remembered the first time she came to his chamber, all trembling with excitement, expecting that he would start presenting to her now, well, or utter some kind of condemning speech, and he said something in style of “Ask this old asshole to dilute not with water.” And no pathos, did he take it over from Prince Arel or was it he himself? And now she was expecting from him some obviously different words, something heroic: “I didn’t give a fuck!” or “All this is nonsense, you see! Who are they before me! I would have dealt with them with one left!”. And he sits here, so tortured, tired, and admits that he was in trouble.