The strange man backed off after being struck, and Charles wasted no time. He flung himself away from where he stood, hoping to create distance between them. But as he retreated, a bloodstained figure in white suddenly lunged into his sight at startling speed. Instinct took over, and he raised his cane to defend himself. Yet in his surprise, he stumbled backward over an old wooden bench behind him.
A loud thud resounded as his body hit the ground. People passing by turned abruptly at the commotion, their eyes wide with alarm. Some whispered in hushed confusion; others quickened their pace to get away from the strange scene.
The sudden pause gave the strange man an opportunity to flee. Joseph wasted no time. His voice rang out with a mysterious, commanding authority: "Don't run!" Instantly, the man who had been about to bolt suddenly slowed and reduced his frantic pace to a mere walk, following Joseph's command.
Charles scrambled to his feet. He had just witnessed Joseph's ability to control the man's movements, and a flash of understanding crossed his mind. Quickly switching his grip on the cane, he hooked its tip around the stranger's legs to trip him up.
The stranger crashed hard onto the ground, dust billowing in every direction. Cries of shock and alarm rose among passersby—some stopped to stare from a distance, others ran off in fear. And yet, strangely enough, no one dared approach them. Ever since everything had seemed to freeze in place under that dark, uncanny power, those who had witnessed the incident believed them to be some kind of madmen. "They're all lunatics," someone murmured. "Stay away." "Hurry, let's leave."
Suddenly, the prone stranger drew a gun from under his coat, aiming the barrel straight at Joseph.
Joseph reacted at once, dispelling his previous command to replace it with a new one. "Don't shoot!"
The stranger's finger, poised on the trigger, abruptly locked in place, frustration clouding his face. Abandoning the intent to fire, he hurled the gun at Joseph instead, flinging it with all his might. The weapon spun through the air as it careened toward its target.
Clearly, the stranger knew that fighting Charles and Joseph at length in a public place was too risky. The city guards or officials would soon be drawn to the commotion, and a prolonged battle out in the open would only end in his capture.
Joseph narrowly dodged the hurtling gun, momentarily losing his footing. But he quickly resumed the chase, releasing the man from his compulsion so he could sprint after him at full speed.
Charles seized his chance, snatching up the fallen firearm. He raised it and aimed at the stranger's legs, intending to shoot and incapacitate him without delivering a fatal wound—just enough to bring him in for questioning.
A thunderous bang echoed through the street. Smoke streamed from the muzzle, the smell of gunpowder filling the air. People shrieked and scattered, feet pounding in every direction, some diving into nearby shops, others leaping over gutters or barricades to escape the sudden danger.
But to Charles's astonishment, the stranger continued running, showing no signs of injury nor any slowdown. Disappointment flashed across Charles's face, believing he had missed. Yet what he saw next left him speechless: the stranger charged straight toward a stone wall and passed right through it as though it were made of mist. Only then did Charles realize that the problem was not his aim. The bullet must have gone straight through the man's body as if he were a spirit or ghostly apparition.
Joseph navigated the panicked crowd, still chasing the mysterious figure. But pursuing someone who could pass through any obstacle was no simple task. While Joseph had to dodge pedestrians, posts, walls, and all manner of obstructions, the stranger simply wove through them, phasing through stone walls, support columns, and even parked carriages without slowing.
Joseph's powers of compulsion were useless at a distance; the fleeing man remained beyond his command's reach. Every time Joseph thought he had guessed the man's path, the stranger would vanish through another wall or barrier, making pursuit exasperatingly difficult. Too much time was wasted weaving around obstacles and panicked citizens, while the stranger moved with uncanny ease.
Charles watched Joseph and the stranger fade into the distance. Knowing he had to help somehow, his gaze darted around until it fell upon their carriage, waiting at the corner under the shade of a broad tree. He sprinted over, jumped onto the driver's seat, and barked a hasty order.
"Follow that man—quickly!" he shouted, pointing toward the direction the stranger had vanished. The driver nodded, snapping the reins. The two black horses tossed their heads and let out a piercing neigh, bolting forward at a gallop.
Yet navigating the narrow streets was no simple feat. The driver had to avoid endangering bystanders, and the crowded roads—lined with shops—made maneuvering difficult. The carriage wheels rattled violently over cobblestones. People screamed and leapt aside; some cursed in shock.
Charles kept his focus on the route ahead, guiding the driver around corners and through throngs of people. Though the carriage could not reach its full speed amid twisting lanes, two powerful horses could still outpace an average human runner.
He kept his eyes locked on the distant figure, noticing a pattern in how the stranger moved. Whenever the man phased through walls, he chose places crowded with buildings, probably to make pursuit that much harder. Charles predicted the likely route the stranger was taking.
"Turn right here!" he shouted, tugging the reins with the driver's help. One of the wheels lifted slightly off the ground from the sudden turn before slamming back down with a jarring clang. Charles hoped this maneuver would let them cut off the stranger before he slipped through yet another barrier.
His plan worked. The stranger emerged onto an open street only to find the carriage waiting directly in his path. Alarm flared in his eyes as he glanced left and right, searching for a narrow alley or a building he could pass through. But it was too late. Joseph arrived at that exact moment, drenched in sweat, breathing heavily from the chase.
"Stop right where you are!" Joseph shouted. His words carried that cryptic power, compelling the stranger to freeze in place, legs locked stiff against the pavement. The man's gaze darted around anxiously, assessing his predicament. Finding no path left to escape, a savage determination sparked in his eyes.
Without warning, the stranger lunged and grabbed a young boy standing nearby—an older woman, likely the child's mother, shrieked in horror. The stranger dragged the boy close and drew a gleaming knife from beneath his coat. Sunlight caught its razor-sharp edge as he pressed it against the boy's fragile neck.
"Don't come any closer!" he shouted, voice ragged and shaking with tension. "Call off that power right now, or the kid dies!"
A crushing dread descended over them. The child whimpered softly, tears rolling down his cheeks. He trembled in the man's tight grip. The boy's mother stood nearby, frozen in terror, face pale as a sheet. Tears streamed silently as she fought the urge to scream, fearful that any sudden noise might startle the assailant and lead him to harm her son.
Charles dismounted from the carriage carefully, positioning himself where he hoped Joseph's power would not affect him. He had no certain measure of its range, but he tried to stand far enough away to act if something went wrong.
Time ticked by with agonizing slowness. The stranger grew increasingly agitated, flicking his gaze from side to side at the gathering onlookers. More people were congregating, intensifying his desperation. His knife pressed harder against the child's neck, drawing a thin line of blood.
The sight of the child's small body trembling, the mother's silent tears, and the horrified faces of the crowd weighed heavily on Charles and Joseph. But no one felt the pain more keenly than that terrified mother. She stood trembling, tears flowing freely, yet did not dare utter a word. She raised her hand to cover her mouth, clutching it so tightly her knuckles turned white. She lowered her head, unable to bear the sight before her, but anxiety and fear still radiated visibly from her trembling form.
"Let the child go, and I'll let you go," Joseph said, his voice level but firm, trying to distract the stranger and create doubt in his mind while his brain worked rapidly to find the best solution.
The stranger glanced at Joseph suspiciously, his lips twisting into a mocking smile. "I know you'll never trust me, just as I'll never trust you! Don't think I'm stupid!"
Joseph sensed things spiraling out of control. Making a swift decision, he released the man from his compulsion. The stranger felt his muscles relax the moment the invisible force lifted. He backed away slowly, pressing himself against a nearby wall, scanning for a potential escape route.
Seizing his chance, the stranger abruptly flung the boy toward Charles and Joseph. The mother's shriek rang out, echoing across the street as her child hurtled helplessly through the air.
Joseph threw himself forward, catching the boy with practiced ease, arms firm around the child's slight weight. Charles rushed in to help steady them both, ensuring the boy was safe.
Just then, the hiss of slicing air cut through the commotion. An arrow streaked toward the stranger's back with uncanny speed. At the last instant, he spun, trying to dodge. The first arrow ripped through the collar of his cloak, narrowly missing his flesh. But an instant later, the second arrow struck his upper arm, its trajectory unfaltering.
A third arrow followed almost immediately, each shot calculated as though the archer could read his very movements. Though wounded, the stranger refused to surrender. He mustered what strength he had left and immediately phased through the wall, vanishing from sight. The arrow embedded in his flesh seemed to drop straight to the ground, as if the part of him it had pierced turned immaterial as he disappeared.
Charles and Joseph both turned toward the direction of the shots. They saw a tall, elegant woman, her long black hair rippling in the breeze. Her light-blue eyes glimmered faintly with gold, and her poised features gave her a singular beauty. She wore a dark cloak that moved gracefully around her figure, revealing an officer's uniform beneath. Two subordinates stood behind her, also in military attire. One carried the crossbow used to fire the arrows. All three regarded Charles and Joseph with stern, unflinching stares.
Charles barely took note of the woman's beauty. He rushed to the wall where the stranger had phased through, finding no trace of him except for a few droplets of blood on the stones. The trail ended abruptly. With a frustrated sigh, he returned to Joseph. "He got away."
The rescued boy was already safe in his mother's arms. She hugged him tightly in relief, though she still trembled with lingering terror. Tears of gratitude streamed down her face, mingling with her sobs in the tension-charged air. Concerned onlookers hovered nearby, but none dared to intervene further.
The woman who had fired the crossbow approached Joseph, speaking in a calm, measured tone. "Who was that man who ran away?"