Chapter 3: Blood on the River, Blossoms in the Wind

Heading to Duluth, I took a ferry. Halfway there, seven small motorboats sped over from afar, chasing mine.

The river was calm, the sun just rising over the water. The sound of engines broke the peace, seven yellow-jacketed figures slicing through the mist.

Each boat carried a man in pale yellow jackets, holding a long sword.

Their faces were grim, eyes locked on me. The Quinn family’s enforcers—always sharp, always ready for blood.

I tipped my hat. “You Quinn enforcers?”

I stood up, balancing easily as the boat rocked. My blade was loose in its sheath, ready for whatever came next.

The leader tipped his hat back. “Mr. Banner, the Quinn patriarch has a message for you.”

He stood tall in his boat, voice carrying across the water. His accent was pure Minnesota, cold and clipped.

I raised my eyebrows, curious. “What is it?”

I leaned against the railing, trying to look casual. But every muscle was tensed, ready for the fight I knew was coming.

“The Quinn patriarch says your blade skills are top-notch. The alpha manual may not be useful to you, but for us, it’s something we must have. We hope you’ll hand it over.”

He spoke with the calm of a man who’d already decided how this would end. But I could see the nervous twitch in his left hand.

I smiled and tipped my hat. “I appreciate the Quinn patriarch’s honesty. But I don’t know him, and even if he asked me himself, I’d have no reason to hand it over.”

My voice was steady, but my heart was racing. The line had been drawn, and there was no turning back.

As soon as I finished, the seven Quinn enforcers’ faces darkened, eyes going cold.

They moved as one, a wall of steel and intent. I could see the fight in their eyes, and I welcomed it.

“In that case, forgive us!” The leader stepped onto the edge of my boat, sword flashing as it stabbed at my chest.

He moved fast, but I was faster. My blade met his, sparks flying. The water churned beneath us, the river itself seeming to hold its breath.

I smiled, drew my blade, and met his sword. Water splashed into mist, drifting in the wind.

The fight was on, steel ringing out over the water. Every move was life or death, and I lived for the rush.

The leader landed on my boat, while the other six surrounded me from their own boats.

They closed in, forming a tight circle. I could feel the heat of their anger, the weight of their purpose.

I swung my blade, sending out a wave of energy that splashed river water high onto the six.

The water caught the sunlight, turning to diamonds in the air. The six staggered, caught off guard.

They shuddered, unable to dodge. I leaped onto their boats, slashing a dozen times, cutting bloody lines across two chests.

Blood splattered the river, the scent sharp and metallic. The two men went down, clutching their wounds.

Enforcers attacked from behind. I parried a sword, struck back with my blade.

Steel met steel, the clang echoing across the water. I spun, using the boat’s motion to my advantage.

Steel rang out, shaking the river, waves crashing endlessly.

The boats rocked, water sloshing over the sides. The fight was wild, unpredictable—just the way I liked it.

A sword swept my right leg. I stabbed my blade through an enforcer’s throat; his body fell into the water, blood dyeing the waves.

He went under without a sound, the river swallowing him whole. I barely had time to catch my breath before the next attack.

Three swords struck at once. I spun and dodged, blade and sword clashing dozens of times, waves staining swords, blood soaking yellow jackets.

Every muscle screamed, but I pushed through. The river became a battlefield, each stroke of my blade a promise I intended to keep.

I swung my arm, blade flashing in the spring wind, then twisted my wrist and sent energy surging through the chaos.

The energy crackled, scattering the swordsmen. The wind whipped my hair into my eyes, but I didn’t slow down.

The energy knocked a sword from one hand; he spat blood and dropped to his knees on the boat.

He gasped, clutching his side. I saw the fear in his eyes, the realization that he was outmatched.

I flicked my toe, kicking the sword into his chest—blood gushed.

He fell backward, the sword buried deep. I barely glanced at him, already turning to face the next threat.

The last three retreated, leaping onto the surrounding boats, encircling me from three sides.

They moved like wolves on the hunt, eyes locked on me, blades gleaming in the sun.

They raised their swords, and it was as if an autumn wind swept in, layer upon layer, never ending.

The air grew cold, the sun hidden behind a veil of steel. I could feel the chill settling into my bones.

Slashes fell like countless leaves, riding the autumn wind, sweeping all around me.

The world turned gold and red, the swords slicing through the air like falling leaves. I braced myself, ready to weather the storm.

In the next moment, several sword wounds opened on me, blood splattering the waves.

Pain flared, sharp and hot. I gritted my teeth, refusing to give in. The river ran red, but I was still standing.

Pain shot through me. I spun to escape the autumn wind, my blade warding off the falling leaves, the three swords forming a formation, each blade linking like wind and leaves.

Their movements were perfect, practiced. But I’d seen enough autumns to know how to survive.

Several boats shattered, blood flying from my wounds, that autumn storm flaring under their blades.

Wood splintered, water rushing in. The fight was chaos, pure and simple.

Spring blossoms from the shore drifted in the wind, landing on my blade.

The petals were soft, a reminder that even in battle, beauty persists. I let them guide my next move.

My gaze shifted, blade tip spinning, petals fell like rain into the autumn storm, slicing open a path of spring color.

I moved with the wind, letting the petals distract my enemies. My blade flashed, carving a path through the chaos.

I staggered, stepped lightly onto the boats, raised my blade speckled with petals and slashed upward, petals scattering, bright arcs falling.

The world exploded in color—red, pink, gold. My blade danced, each strike a promise kept.

Every petal carried my force, sweeping toward the three, falling as blades, slicing open bloody wounds.

They cried out, stumbling back. Blood mixed with petals, staining the river.

Autumn was broken. One enforcer’s chest blossomed with blood, another coughed blood and fell into the water, the last attacked again.

He came at me, desperate, but I was ready. My blade found its mark.

I closed in, slashing diagonally, blade at his neck, blood bursting like broken sunset clouds.

He fell without a sound, the river swallowing his scream.

In the distance, the sunset and blood were the same color, falling on the riverbank branches, blooming with bright spring flowers.

The world was quiet again, the fight over. I took a deep breath, letting the pain settle in.

I looked at the distant blossoms, exhaled, pushed away a blocking boat, sheathed my blade, grabbed the oar, and kept going.

The river carried me north, the wind at my back. I was battered, bleeding, but alive.

When I reached Duluth, it was already the next morning.

The sun was just rising, painting the sky pink and gold. My wounds ached, but I pressed on.

On the ferry, I’d bandaged my wounds as best I could. They were deep, and without proper medicine, the bleeding hadn’t stopped. My clothes were soaked in blood.

Every step was a reminder of the fight, but I kept moving. There was no turning back now.