The moon hung high, shrouded by dark clouds. Four figures emerged from an alley, two in the front and two in the back, moving swiftly as they closed in. In the dim light, John could barely make out their southern city attire. They appeared ordinary, but their intentions were anything but.
John's mind raced with questions, but there was no time for answers.
They needed to run.
But the attackers had no intention of letting them escape easily. Two of them lunged with swords, but the maid was quicker. Her knives flashed through the air, taking down both attackers before they could strike.
The remaining two charged, only to be met with the maid's swift defense. John looked away, unaccustomed to witnessing such violence, while Theia closed her eyes in fear.
Out of the corner of his eye, John saw more figures flooding in from the side alley. The initial group was just a scout for the main force. With only himself, Theia, and the maid, they couldn't possibly fend off eight more attackers without suffering serious injuries.
"Run!"
He grabbed Theia's arm and bolted. The maid left another parting gift—a knife to the throat of one of the attackers—clearing a path for their escape. They try tp cover up the missing piece of the encirclement but that couldn't stop John.
They broke free, the circle of attackers not as tight with only four left. Now, they just needed to lose the pursuers.
Behind them, the group of attackers gave chase, their speed lacking but their numbers overwhelming.
After turning two corners, John felt something was off. It was too easy to shake the pursuers. The maid seemed to sense it too. Without a word, they exchanged glances, their escape coming to a sudden halt.
An arrow whistled through the air, striking the stone road where they would have been if they had kept running. John and Hilda quickly scanned the surroundings, spotting a figure on a rooftop lining up another shot.
Without hesitation, John and Hilda dove in opposite directions, John pulling Theia along. They hit the wall as another arrow flew right where they were.
"S...Sorry... I'm so useless," Theia sobbed, her eyes welling up with tears. John glanced at her, confused. Earlier, she had withstood a mace blow from a priest without flinching, but now, after just a short run, she was breaking down. He didn't know how to comfort her.
Hilda, ever vigilant, threw her knife, catching the bowman off guard and disabling him with a hit to the shoulder. The guy maon and tumbles off the rooftop.
But more attackers were closing in. Now they were surrounded, this time by a larger group, wielding a variety of weapons. John finally had a moment to take a closer look.
Their eyes were bloodshot, veins barely visible in the darkness. John could immediately tell after looking closely that they were no normal people.
"Hilda! These people are being controlled by a mystic!"
Normal people required normal solutions, but mystics needed mystical countermeasures. If these were ordinary attackers, John would have a harder time dealing with them. But with a mystic's influence, they just needed to eliminate or incapacitate the source. Moreover, they would hold much more power with two mystics on their side.
John had an idea. He signaled to Hilda, and they broke through the encirclement. With her mystic power, Hilda easily cut her hand, spilling a bit of blood as she splashed it onto as many of the attackers as she could.
The thread of control became visible, and she stabbed her arm. The controlled people screamed in unison, collapsing to the ground, reducing their numbers by half. All of them make a break for it.
"Arch!"
However, their escape was far from smooth. John felt a sharp pain as a sword cut into his leg. The cut was not deep but enough to reduce his speed.
"Theia! Help me..."
John whispered something to Theia, and her tear-streaked face lit up with a smile. She stopped crying and helped him, draping his arm over her shoulder to support him as they ran. Hilda stayed behind to buy them more time, while John and Theia turned another corner.
But it led them to a dead end. It is a rare section where the alley of this maze-like city didn't lead anywhere. This is likely an intentional ploy.
He turned back, but the horde was already blocking their retreat. It was a party full of farmers and normal people.
Cold sweat trickled down his face. His injured leg throbbed, making it difficult to move, and they were surrounded by what seemed to be ordinary people. Hilda fought to hold them off, but eventually, one attacker broke through and rushed at John. He rushes in with a kitchen knife aimed at Joh and Theia.
But the knife didn't strike John or Theia. It stops just shy from reaching him.
"Surrender," a hoarse voice commanded from within the crowd. The attackers parted, revealing an old man with a walking stick, his eyes half-open, half-asleep. A red crystal floated above his left hand.
"What do you mean?" Hilda asked, her voice steady. They still had Theia who could defend her master.
"As you can see, they are all my masterpieces," the old man said, gesturing to his minions with a lift of his staff. "And I just want to add you to my collection."
He pointed his staff at Hilda.
"We'll be dead either way. Why should I surrender?" Hilda retorted, her expression unyielding.
"I can sign a blood oath, one that would allow your master to go free if you submit to me," the old man offered.
Hilda didn't respond. Instead, she leaped behind John. The old man reacted swiftly, his fingers twitching to issue a command, The knife moved slightly. but before he could act, an echoing chant rang out from Theia.
"Yurdle the turtle, the ruler of all he can see."
The whole world froze as soon as a turtle came into being.