Aedran burst out of the bar, promising he would pay for the damages later, while the rest of the team chased after the mage. Everyone except Elryn, who didn’t seem particularly eager to start sprinting just yet.

  As expected, Thaelen was the fastest. He scaled the walls with his claws as if it were the most natural thing in the world and began scanning for the mage from above. He shouted and pointed east, toward the outer districts.

  Each of them had their own way of pursuing him.

  Aoi released the smoke hounds, which immediately picked up the trail and surged through the streets of Veltraxis. Lyara climbed onto the rooftops to keep pace with Thaelen, while Marreck focused on one thing only: not falling behind.

  Aedran took a sharp turn into an alley, slipping past several vagrants who tried to stop him to beg for food. He dodged them without slowing down and vaulted over an improvised barrier, dropping into a shallow ravine.

  When he landed, he snapped his gaze to the left. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the hooded man descending through the streets, desperately trying to shake the smoke wolves. Aoi scored a point in the pursuit.

  Aedran landed heavily on a rooftop that wobbled under his weight. A strange jolt shot through his knees.

  Though it was slim—which wasn’t ideal for his fighting style—the MK1 armor was heavy, likely due to the sheer number of improvised rivets. Aedran also couldn’t move with complete confidence knowing he had a fragment of camellium embedded in his chest, protected by nothing more than a thin plate of black stone.

  For a moment, he recalled what Lysette had explained.

  “At the moment, the armor only has two basic functions,” she’d said enthusiastically as she fitted it onto him. “The seals on the knuckles generate magical blasts. We’re hoping for fire, for example.”

  “That doesn’t exactly inspire confidence…”

  “To activate them,” she continued without listening, “you need to release the safeties that limit the energy flow.” She pointed to a valve on his chest. “Just turn it, and the power will flow. As for the knuckles—”

  Aedran shook his head. He didn’t need that right now. So far, his sword had been enough.

  He thought about it as he drew the blade. The dark metal reflected his face—dry, tired. Aedran sighed and sprinted toward the main street of the outer districts. He could intercept the mage there.

  Alarms began ringing throughout the district. Members of the guard shook bells while a herald raised a megaphone and shouted:

  “Category two-point-five mage in the area! Proceed with discretion! Wearing a blue cloak, blood stains on the face! If you encounter a high-ranking guard member, evacuate immediately. A confrontation is likely!”

  Aedran heard the announcement as he ran between buildings.

  Category 2.5? What an exaggeration… All they’ll do is cause panic. If he really were that level, he would’ve killed me with the last attack. And more importantly… how did the alert go out so fast? he thought.

  There was no time to dwell on it. People were already scattering nervously, clearing a path for a man being hunted by creatures of smoke.

  The mage spun around abruptly and made a sharp gesture with both hands. A wave of fire burst from his palms, consuming the wolves in seconds. He exhaled in relief—only then realizing he had just used magic in front of everyone.

  The crowd recoiled in terror.

  “Shit… I need to get out of here. Where the hell did that bald bastard go?” the mage muttered, agitated.

  He turned to run—and came face to face with Aedran leaping down from the rooftops.

  “Fuck—wait!”

  Aedran didn’t listen. He landed hard and swung his sword. The mage fired off two quick bursts of flame, but Aedran dispersed them effortlessly and kept advancing. The mage tried to maintain distance, launching rapid, desperate attacks.

  “Wait, please! I’m not who you think I am!” he tried to explain.

  Aedran ignored him.

  He’s not stupid, Aedran thought. Fire is hard to disperse with a black-stone sword. That makes closing the distance tricky, but…

  The mage launched a few more attacks, keeping the gap minimal—contemptible, but sufficient. He shifted into an odd stance and swiped his hand toward Aedran. Aedran raised his sword just in time to intercept a slab of stone the mage ripped from the ground. The impact sent him flying backward, though he was back on his feet the moment he hit the pavement.

  Just elemental magic? He’s not polymagical… or he’s hiding seal magic?

  Aedran stood to continue the chase, then froze in surprise when he realized the mage hadn’t fled.

  He was standing right in front of him.

  The hooded man looked up, visibly shaken, and placed a hand on Aedran’s abdomen. Before Aedran could react, a surge of energy blasted him backward, slamming him into a fruit stand. People screamed in panic.

  “Celestials… I almost pissed myself,” the mage muttered—then took off running.

  Aedran pushed himself up with an irritated grunt. Lyara came running down the street just then; it was obvious she was struggling to keep her footing on the uneven terraces of the outer districts.

  “Aedran, are you okay…?” She cut herself off with an involuntary laugh when she saw him lift his head, his face smeared with orange juice. “I see you’re not.”

  “Stop wasting time and go after him!”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  Lyara shot off while Aedran finished getting to his feet. At that moment, Thaelen and Aoi rushed past as well, moving at full speed. Marreck, on the other hand, was nowhere close.

  “Damn it… this is why I wanted to stick with just the two foreigners. Marreck and Elryn are dead weight,” he muttered as he brushed bits of peel off himself. “Though maybe this is a good chance to see what they can really do.”

  He handed the stall owner a voucher so she could charge the damages to the guard, even though he knew they rarely reimbursed the full amount in the outer districts.

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  Aoi pushed ahead as far as she could. The mage was fast despite his scrawny appearance. He blew into his hand, and a curtain of smoke burst from his fist, racing forward until it surrounded the mage.

  Lyara skidded to a halt when she saw how dense the cloud was, but Aoi plunged in without hesitation. She had already marked the mage with her sight; she could track him even without seeing him.

  The hooded man spun in place, confused, but reacted quickly. He struck at the air, and Aoi ducked to evade it. She drew in a breath and lunged forward with her spear—only to drop flat to the ground when a druidic arrow whistled between her and the mage.

  The hooded man panicked and blew hard. A violent gust of wind swept Aoi away along with her own smoke. The mage raised two fingers and fired a small sphere of fire, which reacted with the cloud and caused a mild explosion. Aoi was barely shaken—it was her own power, after all.

  The Kenary looked up. Thaelen was standing on a rooftop, bow drawn tight.

  “Idiot, don’t get in the way!” Aoi shouted, genuinely annoyed.

  Thaelen ignored her.

  The mage glanced at Aoi on the ground and muttered softly, “I’m sorry.”

  Then he ran again.

  “What a polite mage,” Aoi muttered under her breath.

  Lyara ran past them, clicking her tongue in irritation. At least the streets were already cleared; that reduced the risk of accidents. It was strange how quickly the alert had gone out, but that could be sorted out later in the official report.

  For now, they could fight with fewer restrictions. Even so… the mage was strange.

  He only fled and counterattacked. He didn’t seem to want to kill anyone. So how had he taken down three knights?

  Lyara shook her head just as Thaelen leapt down from a rooftop and rolled on landing. He drew his bow again. The arrow whistled through the air; the mage tried to dodge, but it tore into his calf. He lost his balance and tumbled to the ground. Lyara let out a relieved breath, convinced it was over.

  “Could you listen to me for a moment?” the mage asked desperately, as Thaelen trained another arrow on him. “I don’t even know why you’re chasing me. I was just having a beer.”

  “And your first reaction was to attack a guard lieutenant?” Lyara shot back.

  “It was Aedran!” the mage protested as he barely pushed himself upright. Lyara approached cautiously. “What would you do if the man hunting your kind like ants walked into the same room as you? I—I panicked, that’s all. Please, I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “Well… he does have a point,” Lyara said, folding her arms.

  “Don’t tell me you believe him,” the Drynari added, pulling the bowstring even tighter. “How do you explain the blood on your face, human?”

  “Well… that’s actually a funny story. If you’d just give me time to explain, you’d see this is all a huge misunderstanding…” he said, raising his hands. Thaelen didn’t relax his aim.

  “We’re not executioners,” Lyara cut in. “Let’s just arrest him and take him in.”

  “That’s true,” the druid admitted. “Though he’s still a mage. I doubt things will go well for him.”

  Lyara pressed her lips together, as if thinking, What kind of idiot says that to a fugitive who conjures flames with his hands?

  The mage, meanwhile, continued trembling… until his gaze drifted past them, fixing on empty space for no apparent reason.

  Lyara raised an eyebrow, confused. She followed his line of sight—there was nothing there. Absolutely nothing. And yet a chill ran down her spine. Thaelen lowered his bow for a moment as well, trying to sense whatever it was, but his eyes found nothing.

  Then the mage straightened up completely.

  Lyara wasn’t sure why, but suddenly she felt slow, as if her thoughts were moving through gelatin. The mage looked at them with pity.

  And then, a buzzing sound.

  Both heard the shattering of glass, followed by a purple flash beside them. Thaelen collapsed to the ground, convulsing—his eyes rolled back, foam spilling from his mouth, blood seeping from his ears. Lyara dropped into a crouch on pure instinct.

  “For the Celestials, Thaelen! What’s wrong with you?” she cried, but the druid didn’t react at all.

  Lyara looked up, alarmed.

  The mage was staring at her.

  “I’m sorry…” he said sincerely, before turning away.

  Lyara tried to stand, but another crystal shattered. Her vision went black.

  The mage fled through the alleys, breathing hard. He slipped between two houses and braced his hands on his knees, struggling to catch his breath. He couldn’t stop thinking that, once again, he had witnessed a death.

  He turned—and finally couldn’t hold it in anymore. He pressed his back against the wall and vomited everything in his stomach. He looked on the verge of tears, breathing erratically, completely out of control.

  Aedran didn’t understand that reaction.

  He entered the alley at a slow pace. The mage looked up; his eyes widened in sheer terror when he saw him approaching.

  “Looks like my luck really is terrible,” the mage muttered, wiping his mouth.

  “So you’re a seal mage…” Aedran said grimly. The mage noticed the hand gripping the blackstone sword trembling with rage and took a couple of steps back. “One more step and I’ll rip your arms off. Then I’ll crush your skull until there’s nothing left to recognize.”

  The mage froze. His breathing grew even heavier.

  “I’m not a seal mage,” he replied. His hands shook; after barely clashing with Aedran, he already knew he would never survive a fight to the death.

  “Barrier magic?” Aedran asked, advancing. The mage shook his head. “Then what the hell was that? That wasn’t elemental magic. You’re polycamelic.”

  “That’s not true. I’m monocamelic,” the mage corrected.

  Aedran clenched his teeth.

  “Look, I never wanted this to happen. I really didn’t. I just wanted to stay unnoticed.”

  “Killing three knights doesn’t exactly scream ‘keeping a low profile.’”

  “I didn’t kill those knights!”

  “Then who did? You’re magic was in the crime scene and if you’re elemental, the wounds match,” Aedran said flatly.

  The mage sighed and lowered his gaze.

  “I never thought a legendary warrior would be such a softie.”

  The voice came from behind him.

  Aedran spun around instantly. Entering the alley was a dark-skinned man wearing a red robe with open sleeves. His bald head was adorned with several embedded crystals. He raised two fingers, pointing them straight at Aedran.

  Another mage? he thought.

  “You talk too much for an ordinary human.”

  The man flicked his fingers aside. A purple flash caught Aedran’s attention; he turned his head—only to see nothing, except the faint glow of a rune suspended in midair right beside him.

  Aedran stiffened from head to toe. A familiar, nostalgic terror surged through him; his fists burned, and his vision began to distort in red.

  “Entropy magic…” he muttered to himself.

  Then—the blast.

  A brutal impact smashed into Aedran’s face, crushing him against the wall, collapsing it and hurling him into the house beyond. He landed amid rubble, his face drenched in blood, unable to move.

  “Shit… shit,” the elemental mage said, approaching cautiously. “This is all your fault. Until now, I was staying under the radar.”

  “Calm down, idiot.”

  “Did you kill them? The guards from earlier?”

  “No. You cried so much over the knights that I didn’t feel like listening to you complain again.”

  “Go to hell.”

  “I can’t say the same about this one,” added the bald mage, turning toward Aedran, who lay motionless on the ground.

  “He’s not dead, moron. Listen… he’s still breathing,” the elemental replied.

  His companion stepped closer. Sure enough, Aedran’s faint breaths could be heard, struggling through the blood pouring from his nose.

  “After that attack, he’s still alive? What the hell is his head made of?” the bald mage asked, baffled.

  The elemental narrowed his eyes.

  “He’s Gramorguian.”

  The bald mage grimaced in understanding.

  “I should finish him off.”

  “NO! What the hell is wrong with you and killing people? You damn psychopath! That’s exactly why we’re screwed!” the elemental snapped. “The boss will be furious.”

  “Boss…?” Aedran murmured weakly.

  Both mages turned instantly, falling silent. The bald one stepped forward to finish the job, but a voice echoed from afar. Without thinking, both mages bolted. Aedran lost consciousness just as he saw Marreck running toward him. Everything went black.

  Atop a building, the mages reached their rendezvous point. The elemental wasn’t entirely sure it was the right place, but the bald one had no doubts. They exchanged nervous glances.

  “Why so scared?”

  The voice emerged from the air itself. Out of nothing, a hooded man materialized between them. Both dropped to their knees immediately, though the bald mage clenched his teeth, visibly uneasy.

  “My lord,” said the elemental respectfully, lowering his hood and revealing carefully styled blond hair falling over his face. “I apologize for my presentation.”

  “Nonsense. I’m more concerned about the blood on your face.”

  “Halloward was an idiot and killed three members of the cavalry. That drew the guard’s attention to me and… Aedran.”

  The hooded man startled at the name and smiled to himself. Only a hint of black hair and part of his face were visible beneath the hood.

  “So you interacted with the Gramorguian… Where is he?”

  “Lying in an alley. I should have killed him when I had the chance.”

  “Of course not. We’re trying to stay unnoticed, idiot. Killing someone like Aedran would be problematic. Even the Gramorguians themselves might intervene. We want to avoid unwanted attention.”

  The elemental mage lifted his head smugly, forming a silent told you so. Halloward frowned and looked away.

  “How interesting…” the hooded man murmured. “Coming to Veltraxis was an excellent idea. This is going to be very fun.”

  End of Chapter 9

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