They had just killed a man. There was no time to think about it.
Then Arin spoke quietly.
"Let's move before the other one notices something odd."
Arin's whisper cut through the silence.
The three of them finally stirred.
Tomas and Arin grabbed Ludo's body under the arms and dragged him away from the bars. The corpse was lighter than expected, the skinny mage's limbs hanging loose like wet rope.
Blood trailed across the wooden floor as they pulled him.
Lyra tried not to look.
But the smell reached her.
Metallic.
Thick.
Her stomach twisted.
They lifted the body and pushed it onto the couch.
Ludo slumped sideways, his head tilted unnaturally.
Blood continued to seep through the holes in his chest and stomach, slowly dripping onto the floor beneath the couch.
For a moment, none of them spoke.
Then Lyra turned away.
She staggered two steps.
And vomited.
The sound echoed softly in the quiet warehouse.
Tomas looked away, jaw tight.
Arin said nothing.
There was no time.
He forced himself to stand, his broken arm hanging uselessly at his side.
"Come on."
His voice was low but urgent.
They moved quickly across the warehouse floor toward the exit.
The building stretched long and dark ahead of them.
Crates towered along the walls like silent sentinels.
The exit door stood partially open.
Cold night air drifted inside.
Freedom.
Arin reached the doorway first and carefully leaned toward the opening.
Then he froze.
Gratt.
The brute was walking back toward the warehouse from the docks, a cigar glowing faintly between his fingers.
His heavy boots thudded against the wooden planks outside.
Arin's breath caught.
"Back."
The word barely escaped his lips.
They slipped behind a stack of crates near the door, pressing themselves into the shadows.
The warehouse entrance creaked open.
Gratt stepped inside.
Smoke drifted from his mouth as he exhaled lazily.
"Ludo."
His voice echoed across the room.
The big man rolled his shoulders and stretched.
"The night's long, brother."
His eyes drifted toward the couch.
Ludo's body still sat there in the dim lantern light.
Gratt chuckled.
"You can go take a leak now if you want."
He waved his hand casually.
"I'll watch the brats for a bit."
No response.
Gratt frowned slightly.
He took another step forward.
The cigar tip glowed as he inhaled.
Still nothing.
"…Ludo?"
His footsteps slowed.
The lantern light flickered across the couch.
Something looked wrong.
Gratt tilted his head.
"Oi."
He took another step.
His boot landed with a wet sound.
SPLASH.
Gratt stopped.
Slowly—
He looked down.
Dark liquid spread across the wooden floor beneath his boot.
Blood.
His eyes snapped toward the couch.
Ludo's body sagged sideways.
The holes in his chest were now clearly visible.
Blood poured steadily down the cushions.
Gratt's grin vanished.
"…what the hell?"
His head whipped toward the iron cell.
Empty.
The bars hung open.
For a second—
The massive man simply stood there.
Processing.
Then he turned toward the door.
Just in time to see three figures slipping into the night.
The children.
Running.
Rage exploded across his face.
"YOU LITTLE SHITS! I'LL RIP YOUR APART!"
Gratt roared like a wounded beast.
The cigar dropped from his mouth as he snatched the butcher knife from the nearby table.
His massive body lunged toward the door.
"GET BACK HERE!"
And he charged after them into the darkness.
The moment they burst out of the warehouse, they ran.
Cold night air slammed into their lungs as their feet pounded across the wooden dock.
"Go!" Tomas shouted.
Arin ran beside them, teeth clenched, his broken arm hanging uselessly against his side. Every step sent a wave of pain through his ribs, but he forced his legs to keep moving.
Behind them—
Heavy footsteps thundered across the dock.
Gratt.
"YOU LITTLE RATS!"
His roar tore through the night as he sprinted after them, butcher knife glinting in his fist.
"RUN!" Tomas barked.
The three of them veered off the dock and toward the dark alleyways ahead.
Stone buildings closed in around them as they entered the narrow passage.
Lyra glanced back.
Gratt was gaining.
His massive body barreled forward like an enraged bull, veins bulging across his arms, the butcher blade raised in his hand.
Lyra raised the wooden launcher.
Her fingers trembled.
One last shot.
Water gathered inside the hollow pipe.
Compression.
Acceleration.
THWIP.
The projectile screamed through the air.
Straight for Gratt's head.
But the brute reacted instantly.
CLANG.
His butcher blade snapped up and intercepted the shot inches from his face.
The impact rang sharply as the projectile shattered against the metal.
Gratt lowered the blade slowly.
His yellow teeth bared in a furious grin.
"You think that'll stop me?"
Lyra raised the launcher again—
Nothing happened.
No water.
No mana.
Her chest tightened.
"I… I can't."
"Then move!" Tomas shouted.
They ran deeper into the alley.
Left turn.
Then another.
Their footsteps echoed between the stone walls as they pushed themselves harder.
Arin's vision blurred.
His lungs burned.
Just a little farther.
The alley suddenly opened.
Light flooded the street ahead.
A main road.
Lanterns burned along tall posts, casting warm light across the cobblestones.
And a horse carriage rolled slowly down the street.
The crest of the City Watch gleamed on its side.
A griffin.
The symbol of the kingdom.
The driver spotted them first.
Three battered children sprinting out of a dark alley.
He pulled the reins hard.
"Whoa!"
The carriage screeched to a halt.
"Captain!" the driver shouted.
The doors on both sides of the carriage burst open.
Two City Watch guards jumped down immediately, hands moving toward their weapons.
Then another figure stepped down from inside.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
Calm.
Captain Dorian Halborn.
Tomas saw him and shouted with raw relief.
"Captain!"
The children ran toward him.
Hope burned in their eyes.
Dorian stepped forward.
His gaze swept over them quickly.
Tomas.
Breathing hard, face bruised.
Lyra.
Tears dried across her cheeks, hands trembling.
Then—
Arin.
The captain's eyes narrowed slightly.
The boy leaned forward from exhaustion, his arm hanging at an unnatural angle.
Broken.
Behind them—
Footsteps thundered out of the alley.
Gratt burst onto the main street.
His chest heaved with rage, butcher knife clenched tightly in his fist.
He stopped when he saw the City Watch.
For a moment the street fell silent.
Dorian glanced once more at the children.
"You've done well."
His voice was steady.
"Now stand back."
His gaze lifted to the raging brute across the street.
"I'll handle this."
He snapped his fingers lightly.
"Guard."
One of the watchmen stepped forward.
"Take them."
The guard immediately guided the three children away from the road.
Dorian reached to his belt.
He unhooked the sheath holding his sword.
Then calmly handed the weapon to the second guard.
"Hold this."
The guard blinked.
"Sir?"
Dorian rolled his shoulders once.
"I won't need it."
He stepped forward.
Barehanded.
Gratt snarled.
"You think you can stop me?"
His grip tightened on the butcher blade.
"Come get it, bitch!"
With a furious roar—
Gratt charged like a raging bull.
His boots pounded across the cobblestones, butcher knife raised high above his head, his face twisted with fury.
"COME HERE!"
Captain Dorian Halborn didn't move.
He simply stood there.
Calm.
Silent.
As the brute closed the distance, the captain slowly rolled the sleeves of his coat up his forearms.
One.
Then the other.
The motion was unhurried.
Deliberate.
As if he had all the time in the world.
The street lamps flickered softly above them.
Gratt roared and swung.
The butcher knife came crashing down in a brutal vertical strike—powerful enough to split a man from skull to chest.
But the blade struck nothing.
Only air.
A fading afterimage.
Dorian was already gone.
He appeared beside Gratt like a shadow sliding across the street.
Before the brute could react—
CRACK.
Dorian's boot smashed into the inside of Gratt's elbow.
The impact was precise.
Surgical.
Gratt howled as his arm buckled.
The butcher knife flew from his grip, spinning through the air before slamming point-first into the cobblestone road.
CLANG.
The blade quivered violently, the metallic vibration ringing across the silent street.
Gratt clutched his arm for a split second—
Then rage took over.
With a snarl he swung his other fist toward Dorian's head.
The captain slipped past the strike like water flowing around stone.
His body moved with effortless precision.
Then—
THUD.
An uppercut exploded into Gratt's jaw.
The brute's head snapped backward.
One tooth shot into the air, spinning slowly through the lantern light along with a spray of saliva.
Gratt staggered.
Before he could regain balance—
Dorian stepped forward again.
CRACK.
A sharp hook slammed into Gratt's cheek.
Two more teeth flew from his mouth, clattering across the cobblestones.
The massive man stumbled backward, his vision swimming, legs barely holding him upright.
Dorian lowered his fists slowly.
His voice came calm.
Cold.
"Hard fight, isn't it?"
Gratt blinked through the daze.
Dorian stepped closer.
"For men like you… it always is."
His eyes were steady.
"You spend your days bullying children."
"Beating people who can't fight back."
A pause.
Then his voice dropped.
"But when someone stronger finally stands in front of you…"
His shoulders rolled slightly.
"…you suddenly remember how small you really are."
Gratt roared in fury and tried to charge again.
Dorian moved first.
His body blurred forward.
His boot rose.
WHAM.
The kick struck Gratt's chin with brutal force.
Both of the brute's feet lifted off the ground.
For a moment his entire body hung in the air.
Then gravity reclaimed him.
But before he could fall—
Dorian's leg came down again.
BOOM.
The second kick slammed into Gratt's chest like a battering ram.
The brute crashed backward across the street, skidding across the cobblestones.
Dorian stepped forward.
His boot planted firmly onto Gratt's chest, pinning him to the ground.
The impact forced the air from the man's lungs.
Gratt wheezed, barely conscious, blood spilling from his mouth.
He tried to lift his head.
Tried to raise a fist.
But the strength was gone.
Dorian looked down at him without emotion.
Then he lifted his boot.
And brought it down.
CRACK.
The blow smashed into Gratt's face.
The brute's head snapped sideways.
His body went limp.
Unconscious.
Silence settled over the street.
Dorian exhaled once and adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves.
Then he glanced toward the guards.
"Round him up."
His voice was calm again.
"And start the investigation."
Behind him, the city lamps burned quietly as the night finally began to settle.
Justice had arrived.