Back in the cellar of Brandon’s Magic Junkshop, Philip was moving with calm, methodical speed.
He wasn’t panicking. Panic was for amateurs who didn’t plan ahead.
He had his leather travel bag open on the stone table. Into the bag went three brown paper sacks filled with his freshly ground pink dragon-healing powder, two small jars of highly explosive thunder spear dust, a sharp iron dagger, three pairs of thick wool socks, and a heavy loaf of dry rye bread he had stolen from the bakery yesterday.
He pulled a fresh pair of dark leather trousers out of a wooden chest, slipping them on and tightening his belt securely. He picked up his wooden clown mask off the shelf, staring at the bright painted red smile for a moment.
"Well old buddy," Philip whispered to the mask. "It was a fun week of playing doctor, but the cops are on their way."
He strapped the wooden mask securely over his face.
He didn’t wear it because he thought it looked cool. He wore it because the thick, magical dragon-infused wood acted like a helmet, and more importantly, it kept dust out of his eyes when he was sprinting through smoke.
CREEEEEAK.
The floorboards upstairs groaned softly.
Philip stopped moving. He stood completely still in the dark cellar, listening intently.
It wasn’t Brandon’s heavy, clumsy waddling footsteps.
These footsteps were light, synchronized, and heavy with the distinct, metallic clinking sound of military plate armor moving in stealth formation.
Philip looked up at the cellar ceiling. Through the narrow cracks between the wooden floorboards upstairs, he could see faint blue rays of magic light filtering down into the dark basement.
"They brought mages," Philip noted quietly, dipping his hand into his leather bag and pulling out two tiny glass vials filled with bright yellow thunder dust. "Forty or fifty guys by the sound of those boots. Man, the King really went all out for a kid in a cheap apron."
Upstairs in the main shop room, Captain Elias stood near the front counter, raising his gloved hand to signal his men.
Forty elite imperial guards had completely surrounded the small wooden junkshop, their heavy shields locked together while twelve high mages raised their glowing golden staves, casting a massive anti-magic suppression barrier over the entire building.
A shimmering blue dome of force snapped into place over the shop, sealing off all windows and doors.
"Target is trapped inside!" a high mage reported to Elias. "The anti-magic barrier is fully operational! No teleportation or high tier spells can pass through!"
Captain Elias smiled grimly, drawing his heavy broadsword. "Break down the cellar trapdoor! Bring him out in chains!"
BOOM!
Four heavy paladins slammed their iron shields against the wooden cellar trapdoor, smashing the wooden frame into splintered kindling and surging down the narrow wooden stairs into the dark basement!
"SURRENDER IN THE NAME OF THE KING!" the lead paladin roared, holding a massive iron mace glowing with blue suppression runes.
The basement was completely dark, except for a single candle flickering on the central stone table.
Sitting right next to the candle was a wooden crate. Resting on top of the crate was a small paper tea bag with messy charcoal writing on the front.
The lead paladin stopped at the bottom of the stairs, squinting through the dark shadows. "Where is he?!"
The second paladin walked over to the stone table, leaning down to read the writing on the paper tea bag.
"What does it say?" the lead paladin asked, holding his shield up.
The second paladin read the charcoal writing out loud.
"WELCOME TO THE JUNK SHOP FUCKERS. PLEASE DO NOT STEP ON THE TRAP."
The paladin blinked. "What trap—"
CRUNCH.
The lead paladin’s heavy iron boot stepped squarely on a tiny glass vial Philip had buried under a thin layer of sawdust on the floorboards.
INSTANT ELECTRIC BACKFIRE.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
The tiny glass vial filled with compressed thunder spear powder exploded into a blinding flash of ten thousand volts of raw static electricity.
A roaring wave of yellow lightning shot across the cellar floor, slamming directly into the four armored paladins! Their heavy iron plate armor acted like giant metal lightning rods, conducting the electric shock straight into their bodies!
"AAAAARRRRGGGHHH!" the four paladins shrieked in synchronized agony, their bodies violently twitching and bouncing off the stone walls as blue and yellow sparks shot out of their metal visors.
The heavy metal shockwave blew the cellar trapdoor completely off its hinges, blasting a cloud of thick black smoke and flying splinters up into the main shop room above!
Captain Elias covered his face with his heavy cape as smoke poured out of the floor. "WHAT WAS THAT?! REPORT!"
Out of the thick black smoke cloud rising from the cellar floor came a skinny shadow moving at terrifying speed.
Philip vaulted out of the cellar hole like an Olympic gymnast, wearing his painted wooden clown mask and holding his leather travel bag tightly across his chest!
"THERE HE IS!" Captain Elias screamed, pointing his broadsword. "ATTACK! TAKE HIM ALIVE!"
Twelve imperial guards lunged forward at once, their heavy steel spears thrusting toward Philip’s chest from all directions.
Philip didn’t even slow down. He dipped his fingers straight into his waist pouch, pulled out a thumb-sized pinch of green speed powder, brought it up under his wooden mask, and took a quick, aggressive snort.
SHOOOOOP!
Philip’s eyes flashed bright green behind the star cutouts.
To the imperial guards, Philip suddenly turned into a blurry, phantom motion.
He bent his body backward at a impossible ninety degree angle, slipping right between three flying spear tips like a liquid shadow.
He slammed his boot against a guard’s iron chestplate, using the recoil to flip completely upside down in mid air.
While suspended upside down above the guards’ heads, Philip reached out his hand, snatched Captain Elias’s heavy golden helmet right off his head, and slapped the heavy metal pot backwards onto the face of a high mage who was trying to cast a fireball.
CLANG!
"MY HANDS!" the high mage screamed, his fire spell exploding prematurely inside his own hands and setting three imperial banners on fire.
"HE IS TOO FAST!" a guard shrieked, swinging his sword wildly into the smoke. "HE IS NOT USING NORMAL MANA! HIS MOVEMENTS ARE IMPOSSIBLE!"
Philip landed smoothly on top of the front display counter, turning around to face the thirty armored men trying to surround him.
"Look guys!" Philip shouted through his wooden clown mask, his voice echoing in the burning shop. "I appreciate the enthusiastic job interview! But I am not really a team player! I work better as an independent contractor!"
Captain Elias spat blood onto the floorboards, his face red with pure rage. "MAINTAIN THE BARRIER! HE CANNOT ESCAPE THE BUILDING!"
Philip looked up at the shimmering blue magic dome covering the front windows and doors. The barrier was six inches thick, humming with intense anti-magic suppression force designed to stop high tier spells.
Philip reached into his leather bag, pulling out his absolute worst creation.
It was a small glass jar filled with a mixture of dark blue S rank dragon scale dust and crushed red fire blades. It was the exact same volatile combination that had launched him into the sky three days ago.
"You guys might want to cover your ears," Philip said through his mask, unscrewing the glass jar. "This next trick is called nuclear blast."
Philip brought the jar to his face, opened his mask slightly, and took a massive, totally suicidal snort of the dragon-fire powder.
GURGLE!
GURGLE!
BOOOOOOM!
His belly instantly ballooned into a giant, glowing orange ball!
"WHAT IS HE DOING?!" Captain Elias screamed, backing away in sheer terror. "GET DOWN! EVERYBODY GET DOWN!"
Philip turned his back to the giant blue anti-magic barrier on the front window, bent over at a ninety degree angle, and clenched his stomach muscles with everything he had.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
A fifty foot jet of blinding orange dragon fire violently erupted straight out of Philip’s rear end like a localized nuclear missile blast.
The sheer physical kinetic force of the rear end explosion slammed directly into the blue anti-magic barrier.
The barrier didn’t even have time to suppress the magic because it wasn’t a spell; it was raw, unadulterated physical explosion force.
CRACK!
SHATTER!
The massive blue magic dome exploded into a million sparkling glass shards.
The entire front wall of Brandon’s Magic Junkshop was completely blown out into the street, sending heavy oak beams, stone tiles, and five imperial guards flying thirty feet into the dark night.
Philip was launched straight through the shattered window like a human cannonball, soaring eighty feet over the crowded street while screaming at the top of his lungs!
"MY NEIGHBORHOOD! I AM SO SORRY ABOUT THE NOISE!" Philip yelled into the night air as he zoomed over the rooftops of the capital.