Several vital skills have grown dull after spending the winter holed up in his cabin--his swordsmanship, Devil Forging, and physical endurance, to name a few--but thanks to his regular hunting trips in the forest, his reflexes are as keen as ever, and responding to Firo's attack is of no challenge. The air is shocked with a metallic clang as, quick as lightning, Hector steps aside and his sword comes down in a smooth, silvery arc. Rather than hooking the sword at the crossguard and flinging it aside, or stealing the split-second pause to drive the heel of his boot into Firo's stomach, he simply smiles. "I am quite sure," he says.

Though his voice and expression are as soft and cool as ever, the sun glints wildly in the blues of his eyes, glints like firelight catching on broken glass.