[Vensen Perspective]

I stared at Jevan's back as he walked away. I wanted to stop him but couldn't. Just knowing he's alive is enough. If he's still alive, then maybe the others are alive too?

I wanted to ask him about them, but it's obvious he's still angry with me and I don't blame him. He's got every right. I'm nothing but a coward who left his friends behind and ran to save his own skin. How can I even look him in the eye after that? But I'm tired of running, tired of hiding.

When I moved to follow him, Neila grabbed my arm.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"After him."

"After that lunatic?!"

I yanked her hand off me.

"Don't talk about him like that."

"Now you're defending him?"

"He didn't do anything wrong."

She pointed at the decapitated bodies on the ground.

"Nothing wrong?! And what's this then?"

"They attacked him first."

"You saw the way he killed them. He's a monster, not a man. If you go after him you'll end up like them."

"He won't."

"And why are you so sure?"

I couldn't answer, so she fell silent.

Then, looking at one of the corpses on the ground, she added,

"In any case, even if you believe he won't hurt you, I wouldn't advise following him. Right now he's surrounded."

"Surrounded? What do you mean?"

"When that masked man kidnapped you…"

"He didn't kidnap me."

"When he kidnapped you, I used the papers behind the bar to call for backup."

I froze at her words. Those papers are tools used by information center officials in emergencies. The problem is those messages go straight to Morc, the boss's deputy himself.

I don't know how strong Jevan is right now, but if he clashes with Morc he won't come out alive. Even if he's stronger, Morc will have an army with him.

I ran with everything I had to catch up. I might not be much help in a fight, but at least I can help him escape or at least make sure they take him alive instead of killing him on the spot, then help him get away later. Either that or die with him. This time I won't be the only survivor.

But before I could leave the alley, I slammed into someone and fell to the ground.

I looked up to find Jevan standing in front of me. His body was riddled with swords, spears even daggers. I instinctively backed away as he reached out, grabbed one of the swords stuck in his shoulder and pulled it free. Blood streamed down his arm but he didn't seem to feel any pain.

"Won't you help me pull these things out of my body?"

***

[Jevan Perspective]

I stood before the barkeep, who now looked less depressed than stunned, as I yanked the weapons out of my body one by one. He just stared at me without speaking.

Behind him the girl was pressed against the wall, trembling, clutching her sword. She waved it around in a clumsy arc. Even a child who'd never held a sword could have done better.

I lifted my hand and gave her a gentle wave. Instead of returning the greeting, she backed up even more, her face growing paler.

I sighed, bored, and pulled the last dagger from my shoulder, tossing it to the floor. Then I turned to the barkeep and said,

"Do you know a safe place where I can change my clothes? They've gotten a little dirty."

He just stared at me without answering. What's wrong? Do I have to stab him to get a reply? The silence hung heavy until the cat Tmawis suddenly leapt up. I caught it in both hands and started petting it.

I'd been wondering where it had gone.

The barkeep swallowed hard before finally saying,

"Yes… I know."

He staggered to his feet, brushed the dust from his clothes, and motioned for me to follow.

I followed him out of the alley, the thick smell of blood hitting my nose. The street had turned into a red pool of blood. Bodies and heads were scattered everywhere.

The barkeep froze.

"You did this?"

I raised my thumb to confirm.

He stepped back involuntarily, then forced himself to move on, carefully avoiding the corpses.

***

In a dim tavern, Morc appeared out of nowhere. No one dared ask how he got in they were used to his strange entrances.

He approached a table where a man with long black hair tied in braids sat. A black patch covered his right eye, and a large scar crossed his face. He was quietly drinking alcohol. When he saw Morc, he lifted his head and gave him a sharp look.

That man was none other than Grivus, leader of the Claw gang.

In a rough voice, setting his cup down, he said,

"Did you catch that masked man?"

Morc's smile never left his face.

"He was stronger than I expected. I barely escaped after fighting him."

Grivus's fingers tightened on the glass until it shattered in his hand. He hurled it at Morc. Blood trickled down Morc's cheek, yet he kept smiling as if nothing had happened.

Grivus slammed his fist on the table, splitting it in two, then growled,

"Go, and don't come back without him."

Morc bowed.

"As you command."

His voice was empty of emotion.

Grivus turned to the others present and signaled to them.

"And the rest of you, go out and find him."

They all answered at once.

"As you command."

Only the strongest, most experienced men of the Claw gang were there, and they obeyed without hesitation. Morc turned to leave, and before he reached the door he heard Grivus's deep voice from behind him as he ran a rough hand over his scar.

"Bring him back alive. I don't care if he loses a few limbs along the way."

Morc paused at the door.

"As you command."

Then he vanished as suddenly as he had appeared.

Grivus remained alone in the tavern. He sat at the bar, resting his elbow on the counter.

"One drink."

The barkeep trembled but hurried to obey, carefully avoiding looking into Grivus's eyes.

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