Nathan Lee was several things. Handsome. Clever. Absurdly strong—

  Unfortunately, not even Nathan with all of his speed was able to react fast enough to fully dodge a bullet.

  The chunk of metal slipped between his teeth and hit the back of his throat. It shredded through the muscle and capillaries and came out the other end with a whiz.

  Pain lit up Nathan's world. Against a normal bullet, he was sure he would have been fine—but he had no idea what kind of modifications or enchantments Mara had put on that gun.

  He closed his fist and froze the blood in place using the water as an anchor. Screams echoed out from the surrounding people as they backed away from Mara and Grigor.

  Mara brought the revolver up to her lips and blew above the smoking tip.

  “You like?” she said. “Custom made. I taught an elven blacksmith modern firearms technology, and he was able to make this out of weird elf-metal.”

  She looked at Nathan a little bit longer and narrowed her eyes. “My aim must have been off. It looks like you're still conscious.”

  Nathan swallowed. The pain was like a thousand daggers being shoved into his throat.

  “Hey," he said.

  “Hey. So—are you the real Nathan Lee? Or are you an imposter? Bree seems to be convinced that you're a faker who stole his face.”

  “Is that so—?” Nathan coughed into his fist. Spittle and blood landed on his knuckles.“—if you weren't sure, doesn't that mean you could have ended up killing me? If I was the real Nathan Lee, I mean.”

  She shook her head. “The real Nathan Lee wouldn't die to something as lame as a bullet.”

  “You have a lot of faith in that guy.”

  “Yeah, well... that faith of mine is currently being put to the test.”

  Grigor adjusted his shield. “You never answered our question.”

  Nathan pointed up at his wig. “As you can see, I clearly don't fit the description of Nathan Lee. I'm not even sure why you would make that connection.”

  “Oh, I don't know,” Mara said. “Maybe the fact that you have the exact same facial features, the same voice, the same freakish strength... You're either Nathan Lee, or Leviathan learned a new disguise skill.” She looked up thoughtfully at the sky and tapped her gun against her chin. “Actually, that's not really that far-fetched.”

  She shrugged. “Either way, I'm afraid you're going to have to come with us. Whether you're the real deal or not, you'll be sure to have the answers that we're looking for.”

  Nathan took a single step back. “And if I don't want to come along?”

  An open-mouthed grin flashed onto Mara's cheeks, stretching from ear to ear.

  “Make my day,” she said.

  Nathan took stock of his situation.

  He was seriously injured with a hole in his neck that he was manually keeping together using his water manipulation.

  He was exhausted and tired, fresh from a fight with a miniboss. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd slept, or even ate.

  Meanwhile, Mara presumably went on a brief hike to get here, she had unknown capabilities that with that brand new blood-red revolver of hers, and she had class skills related specifically to assassination.

  Not only that, but Grigor, a member of the top ten, would be providing the defense, presumably making it impossible for Nathan to get any kind of attack in.

  He could try fleeing in his Water Elemental Form—but putting aside the fact that he didn't know if Mara had some bullshit skill to track him and take him down—he probably wouldn't be able to maintain it for long given how exhausted he was.

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  Fleeing wasn't an option. Fighting wasn't an option.

  Should he just give up then?

  Go along with them peacefully?

  Clarify that he was just being an idiot?

  Absolutely not.

  So that left only one option:

  Negotiation.

  He took a deep breath. The air rushed past the wound inside of his throat.

  “The way I see it,” Nathan said. “We have two options here. We can fight each other and we'll all come away from this seriously injured, or potentially dead.”

  “Oh? And what's option number two?”

  “We can pretend we never saw each other and go our separate ways.”

  She shook her head, a smile on her face.

  “You see, Nathan—or whoever you want to be—that sort of thing only works if the other party isn't actually invested in pursuing you.” Her teeth flashed. “I am. If you're the real Nathan, then I want some answers about why you up and abandoned everyone. If you aren't, then I want to put a bullet in your skull so that you never screw with my friend's memory again.”

  Nathan glanced off to the side. “It's not like I'm trying to take the guy's identity.”

  “Doesn't matter. You show up looking exactly the same as him, with nothing but a cheap wig? Did you seriously think that would work?”

  “In my defense, Bree seemed to take it 100% seriously.” Nathan tilted his head. “So what if I am the real Nathan? What if you accidentally kill me in this fight?”

  She winked. “Everyone knows that good friends try to kill each other once in a while. It's practically a rite of passage!”

  Nathan gave a strained smile. Of all the people to run into, he had to run into the most unreasonable and fanatical of them all. When it was pointed toward their enemies, Nathan was perfectly happy with that sort of behavior—but now that he was on the other end of it, it was definitely a discomforting feeling.

  “What would Nathan Lee want?”

  “I like the guy, that doesn't make him my personal Jesus Christ. He's not my moral guiding star or whatever it is you seem to be going for.”

  Okay, so that's a bust, he thought.

  Nathan was beginning to suspect that there wasn't any other way out of this situation except for violence.

  “So if I were to do something crazy like hold all of those people watching us hostage, you wouldn't blink an eye?”

  “See, Nathan, now I'm starting to buy into the whole imposter theory.” she said. “The real Nathan Lee would know that I don't give a single shit about any of these people.”

  Nathan had known her long enough to say that he was reasonably sure she was telling the truth.

  When I get back, Nathan thought. We're going to have to have a serious conversation about the sanctity of life.

  “So, is that all?" she asked. "Are you going to keep talking, or can we get to the fun part?”

  Nathan reached into his inventory and grasped the handle of a weapon. “You seem to have left me no choice.”

  “No, you brought this on yourself.”

  Her wrist twitched. Nathan dived to the right. An instant later, her hand snapped into place and a bullet shot at the spot where Nathan had just been.

  I need a ranged weapon!

  His harpoon was an option, but it was two circles out of date. No, he needed something a bit strong.

  This always works in movies, yeah?

  Nathan pulled a sword out of his inventory and lined it up with Mara's leg like he was about to throw a javelin.

  He threw it and the object shot forward with a thunderous crack.

  A hulking figure interposed between Mara and the sword. The sword bounced off metal and embedded itself into the dirt.

  Grigor adjusted his shield.

  Nathan clicked his tongue. Sweat formed at the top of his forehead and his back. His limbs felt simultaneously light yet sluggish, and his face was unnaturally cold. If he looked in a mirror, he was willing to bet that he had turned a pure pale white.

  A sheen of metal to the left of the shield.

  Nathan hit the dirt and a bullet whizzed overhead.

  “Pretty cool, right?” she shouted from behind Grigor. “I'm not the biggest fan of this trick—there's no fun if you don't risk getting hurt—but I've got to admit that it's pretty damn effective!”

  Nathan narrowed his eyes at Grigor's shield. This was the power of a decent tank.

  Grigor had been stretched thin during the arena fights—too many people to shield and not enough speed.

  But in a situation like this, where he had to only protect one target, Nathan wasn't sure anything short of two Maelstroms would be enough to break through that block.

  Nathan flexed the skill and instantly felt a wave of fatigue crash into him. There would be no summoning any Maelstroms anytime soon.

  Mara poked her head out from behind Grigor's shield. "You're looking a little pale there, buddy. You want to call it a day? I'll let you off easy—we'll even take care of that hole in your throat."

  Nathan gave a strained smile. "No, I'm fine. Thanks for the offer, though."

  She shrugged.

  "Don't say I didn't tell you so."

  Her shoulder shifted. Nathan dived to the right and a bullet carved through the outer surface of his cheek.

  Mara cocked the hammer of the revolver back and fired again. Nathan pulled out his Fishing Rod halfway from his inventory and blocked the bullet. It bounced off and hit the dirt with a thud. Nathan stuffed the Fishing Rod back into his inventory and pulled out another sword. He aimed it at Mara's head, fully confident that Grigor would block the attack.

  The shield shifted by a few inches and the sword was deflected to the side. Nathan took several steps back.

  Nathan racked his brain for a solution, but nothing came to mind. He had his tongue, he had his skills—and if those two had failed, he didn't have a lot to fall back on. Nothing that could stand against the might of a motivated Mara with plenty of ammunition.

  "Back away from him!"

  A figure had interposed itself between Nathan and Mara.