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“That’s funny, considering you look kind of like his wanted posters,” the bounty hunter replied, showing a flier with a sketch of Noah in his hat and coat.Noah, who had taken a seat at the bar and lit a gonlief cigarette, huffed in faux annoyance. “Insult to motherfucking injury. He stole my wife and my look, and now I got little shitheads mistaking me for the guy I plan on skinning alive.”“And who are you?”

After the third round of fights, the tournament was suspended until the next day, and everyone returned home. Sitting at the desk in Valon’s room, Noah was busy replicating the headband he got from Saimallah. He had already used alchemy to create an exact replica, including the engraved runes, and was now applying a suitable ink. As he worked, he scrutinized the formula repeatedly, making sure it did what it was supposed to. For all he knew, putting it on could brand him with a curse. In his long years across the multiverse, he had learned to always look a gift horse in the mouth. Reading the formula was like reading a contract, and he had to be wary of fine print.

Once he had been reduced to kindling, Noah pulled him out of the resulting puddle and stabbed him with the second tool, a metal spike wrapping him in smokeless fire. The magic flames worked quickly, reducing him and his clothes to ash in less than a minute. Minus his metal belt buckle and a few shards of bone, all of the trace evidence was removed, and Noah swept the remains into the broom closet. No one would ever know what happened to Reiss, but at least his killer suffered for what he did.