PH1RE'S P.O.V
"Maya, you take the street, I'll chase from up here!" I shouted, launching forward with [Plus Step], the spell propelling me along the rooftop like a stone shot from a sling.
"Got it!" she called back, already vaulting off the ledge and hitting the cobbled street below in a full sprint.
The hooded figure moved fast—unnaturally fast. Purple mist trailed behind him in thin streaks, each step enhanced by some spell I didn't recognize. He weaved through the thinning morning crowds like a shadow, slipping through narrow alleys and leaping over carts without breaking stride.
I kept pace from the rooftops, drawing on my mana reserves to boost each step. My lungs burned. My eyes stayed locked on the figure.
Who was this guy? Why did he have a flute built for combat? And more importantly—what did he want with Cornelius?
He ducked into a side street, vanishing under an overhang. I leapt across two buildings, nearly misjudging the landing. I skid to the edge and dropped low, searching the alley.
No sign of him.
I froze, listening. [Plus Step] wasn't meant for silent movement—it was a spell for distance and impact—but in this moment, I needed it to work for control.
Footsteps.
Below. Moving again. A sewer grate clattered in the distance.
"He's going underground!" I shouted.
Maya heard me from a block away. "I'll cut him off at the northern tunnel!"
I dropped down into the alley, ignoring the burning in my legs, and ran. I reached the grate just as it stopped vibrating. The last echoes of movement bounced up the stone tunnel.
Without hesitation, I climbed in.
The air below was thick—wet, heavy, reeking of mildew and rot. My boots hit wet stone as I descended, and I reached for the faint light of my mana sense. Nothing ahead. Nothing behind.
But the echo of flute music reached my ears. Faint, wavering.
He was playing.
I froze, ducking into the shadows. If it was a cast, I couldn't risk being caught in its radius. Sound spells were unpredictable. They could slow you, confuse you, shatter your senses—or worse.
The melody wavered. A minor key, strange rhythm. Not a performance. A signal.
He was probably contacting someone. Sound spell series was helpful like that.
I crept forward, hand ready to form a shield, ears straining to pick apart the notes. I couldn't recognize the tune—but I didn't need to.
The tunnel opened into a chamber—old, unused. Probably part of the original drainage layout before the town expanded. A rusted ladder led up to a collapsed hatch.
The figure stood in the center, surrounded by chalk sigils drawn hastily on the ground. Some of the lines pulsed faintly. Not magic circles—sound rings. Amplification tools. He was using the room to boost the range of his melody.
I counted down from three in my head.
Then moved.
I surged forward with [Plus Step], fists igniting with mana. I wasn't going to kill him—just knock him flat and end the cast.
But before I could strike, he turned.
His eyes met mine.
And he smiled.
A blinding white pulse flared from his flute—silent, but powerful enough to knock the air from my lungs. I hit the stone wall and tumbled back, stunned, vision flashing.
I tried to rise—but everything sounded wrong. Like my ears had been filled with water.
Then he spoke.
"I was hoping you'd follow," he said, voice too smooth, too layered. Like he was speaking through a hallway full of mirrors.
He stepped closer. I tried to push up, but my limbs weren't cooperating.
"Getting the Inspector would've been better," he said, "but this? You'll do. You've got a huge bounty, you know."
I gritted my teeth and forced a knee beneath me. "Who… are you?"
He knelt beside me.
"Just someone in need of money." His grin stretched too wide. Sharp, jagged teeth glinted in the dim light.
Cephurian.
I reacted instantly.
[Fireball]
The blast tore from my hands, heat searing the chamber. It forced him to stagger back, breaking whatever spell held me down. I got to my feet and launched three more fireballs. They curved in midair, spiraling toward him.
But he didn't dodge.
He dissolved.
A swirl of violet mist scattered into the room. The fireballs passed harmlessly through it.
Then the mist surged.
It reformed in front of me—reconstructing the cloaked beastkin mid-air, his boot already aimed for my chest.
Dropkick.
I braced myself and caught his leg, but my grip met nothing—his body flickered intangible. Caught off guard, I couldn't stop the second kick—this one connected with my shoulder, solid.
Pain lanced through my upper arm. I staggered, sparks of agony shooting up my neck.
I turned, ready to retaliate—but the bastard was gone again, a trail of mist darting around the chamber in dizzying circles.
That wasn't the only thing dizzying however, the earlier spell—the one messing with my hearing—it ramped up in my head, pulsing louder.
Then I saw it: in the flicker between attacks, he was still playing the flute. Every time he reappeared, he played another note before vanishing again into mist. I threw several fireballs at him but he was too fast, his mist form allowing him to avoid them gracefully even while I augmented myself with Mana step to chase him.
I stumbled, breath ragged.
Looking around I spotted the sigils he had hastily drawn before I entered, they appeared to be pulsing.
'That's it' I thought to myself a plan rapidly forming in my mind.
I kept chasing him, getting closer to the chalk lines. When I was finally in position, I lit another fireball and hurled it toward the sigils.
But just as I threw it—I sensed movement behind me.
He was there.
Of course he was.
I still wasn't able to feel him through my mana sense but I'm gonna chalk it up to his spell series. He probably wanted me to try to get closer so I would leave an opening he could take advantage of, he's smart so It makes sense that I could hear him underground despite his ability to turn into mist, he was baiting me.
However,
As he rematerialized, stepping in for a finishing blow, I was finally able to get a good look at him, his flute had morphed into a cylindrical bladed weapon.
There was a smile on his face, probably one of triumph, however.
I was also baiting him.
The moment he took a step closer he rematerialized but then found himself being sent into the upward, and in the split second of surprise, I slammed a punch into his gut and followed with another fireball mid-air.
"You should look where you're stepping," I exclaimed pointing to the glowing platforms below.
One of the Pure spells I was able to create was a Plus step and Plus Jump mana platform that stayed on a surface until interacted with, I haven't come up with a name for it yet but after saving my life I might have to put some thought into it.
I was startled out of my thoughts as a he slowly stood up.
The bounty hunter laughed—low and gravelly—from across the chamber.
I blinked.
He was missing an arm.
Wait. An arm?
I didn't have much time to ponder on it before I felt the sensation of cold metal piercing through my flesh
'It hurts'
"I would say the same, to you," he sneered.
I looked down.
It was the missing arm missing arm of the bounty hunter which was now emitting purple mist.
"You know, I'd kill you," he said, "but you're wanted alive. Be thankful your life has value."
The misty limb retracted, the blade sliding out with a sickening sound before reattaching to the stump on his shoulder.
'I really overestimated my own intelligence'
I dropped to one knee, clutching my side. Blood welled through my fingers—hot, pulsing, wet.
That blow wasn't meant to kill.
But it hurt!
It hurt so much!
"I'll be collecting now," the hunter said, stepping closer, his flute shifting back into its musical form.
He stepped forward, spinning the flute with casual precision—until a dagger sang through the air and embedded itself into the stone by his foot.
He froze.
And, he didn't move. Couldn't move because behind him a hand grasped his head rendering him dazed.
Coming into the light, I was able to see the familiar blonde hair of my would be savior.
"Hello, Loid. We meet again," said Cordell.
"Cord—"
"Loid!" I was cut off as Maya rushed to my side.
'Oh! Yeah, she was probably the one who threw the dagger. I must've forgotten to look at where the dagger came from in shock, only capable of looking in front of me. How embarrassing.'
"Loid, are you okay?" asked another voice.
Ethan.
When did he get here?
"Loid," he repeated, face tense.
"Um—yeah! I'm fine," I lied.
"Good,"
He turned to where Cordell held the bounty hunter pinned. Ethan crouched, locking eyes with the dazed figure.
"Did we get one,"
"Yes," Cordell replied.
Ethan let out a long sigh of relief.
"We did it"