Captain Iron raised his hand high, and with a sharp, decisive motion, he signaled to the archers stationed on the rooftops. Their bows were drawn, strings taut as they awaited the command.
"Archers—fire!" his voice rang out.
In an instant, a hail of arrows filled the sky, their deadly tips gleaming in the sunlight as they descended like a swarm of predatory birds. The air hummed with their passage, each shaft aimed with deadly precision.
Knife's sharp eyes tracked the arrows, his instincts kicking in. He twisted his body, ready to dodge with ease.
But just as he began to move, something gave him pause—a faint whimper from behind him. He glanced back briefly, spotting Lin crouched behind a barrel inches away from him, trembling and wide-eyed, barely shielded by his frame.
"Damn it," Knife growled under his breath.
With no time to reposition, he turned back toward the oncoming storm. His body tensed, and his fists clenched as he braced himself. Moving with inhuman speed, he began deflecting the arrows. His hands moved like a blur, striking the shafts mid-flight or batting them away. Some bounced harmlessly off his forearms, while others nicked his skin, drawing thin lines of blood.
Despite his efforts, not all the arrows could be stopped. One embedded itself in his shoulder, another found his abdomen, and two more lodged in his leg. Knife staggered slightly but remained upright, gritting his teeth against the pain.
Lin gasped, her eyes wide with shock as she peered at him from behind, still hidden from view.
Captain Iron's gaze narrowed, his expression a mixture of irritation and mild surprise. He had not expected Knife to take the arrows head-on, to stand and fight like that. His command had been precise, and yet, the outcome had not been as easily calculated as he thought.
"You're a fool," Captain Iron said, his voice a quiet growl, but there was a hint of begrudging admiration beneath the condemnation. "You could have dodged, evaded the arrows, but you chose to absorb them instead. Why?
Knife, though visibly wounded, straightened his back and let out a low chuckle, blood dripping from his wounds. He wiped the blood off his face, his grin unwavering, even as his body betrayed him.
"Because I wanted to give you a chance to kill me," Knife rasped, his voice rough but dripping with arrogance. "You won't get another one. "
"It seems I overestimated you," Iron lifted his arm, ready to give a command.
Knife's body trembled as blood seeped from his wounds. His pulse quickened, and a familiar, dangerous hunger stirred inside him. Shit, not here, he thought, forcing his hands to steady. His vision darkened, the world closing in as the bloodlust clawed at his mind.
He could feel it—if he didn't get control now, it would take over.
Suddenly, the buildings groaned ominously, and with a deafening crack, the structure behind Knife crumbled. Dust and debris filled the air in an instant, the once-clear street now cloaked in smoke and confusion.
Lin's heart pounded as she saw the debris cascade down around Knife. He staggered, blood staining his clothes and face, but his eyes never lost their cold gleam. The archers on the rooftops adjusted their aim, momentarily distracted by the dust and the shifting of the buildings.
Without thinking, Lin sprang to her feet, her legs trembling beneath her. She had to move, and fast. Her instincts kicked in, the same ones that had kept her alive in this harsh world where survival was a game of timing and luck. Knife was her only shot now.
"Hey!" she shouted, her voice barely cutting through the chaos. She grabbed his arm, pulling him toward the thickening smoke.
Knife glanced at her, his grin still present despite the pain. "You're still here?" he rasped, his voice almost amused.
"Don't just stand there!" Lin urged, tugging at his sleeve, "If you don't move, you'll get caught."
His eyes narrowed, and for a brief moment, the chaos around him seemed to slow. He turned his head toward the smoke-filled streets. The spearmen, disoriented by the falling debris, were regrouping, but it wouldn't take long before they regained their focus.
With one final glance back at Captain Iron, who was barking orders to his soldiers, he hated running from a fight, but he had to admit he was beaten this time. "This isn't over," Knife muttered.
Knife moved with Lin toward the cover of the crumbling buildings. The air was thick with dust, the sound of clattering armor and shouted commands fading as they slipped into the shadows.
Lin didn't look back. She had no time to. Her breath came in short, panicked bursts as they sprinted through the narrow alleys, the smoke thickening around them. The sound of footsteps pounding on the cobblestones echoed from behind, the knights no doubt closing in.
Knife's movements were fluid, his injury seemingly forgotten as he expertly navigated the maze of buildings. He moved with the precision of someone who had spent his life escaping pursuit. Lin, however, had never run from anything like this before. She had spent her life hiding in plain sight, never drawing attention. Now, though, she was part of a story much bigger than she had ever imagined.
"Are you sure you know where you're going?" Knife asked, his voice low but laced with a strange amusement. He turned a corner, his body hunched as if anticipating a sudden pursuit.
"I—I think so," Lin gasped. "There's a passage through the market... I can get us through there."
The sound of heavy boots was growing nearer. The knights were relentless. "Move faster, kid. This place will turn into a warzone soon enough," Knife growled, his pace quickening.
Lin's heart raced as she led him toward the market square, the familiar stalls and shops a blur in her vision. The entrance to the narrow, hidden alley that led to the back streets was just ahead, and she could see it in her mind's eye—an old storage space, a secret escape route her father had used when he'd been younger.
They reached the alley, and Lin yanked the heavy tarp that concealed the entrance, revealing a narrow corridor that seemed to stretch into nothingness. Lin darted inside, and Knife followed, his presence looming behind her as they made their way deeper into the darkness. The alley was tight, but Lin knew it well. They kept low, ducking around debris and collapsed crates, her mind spinning with the fear that they wouldn't make it out.
The sound of knights searching through the streets above them made her tense, but Knife moved with an eerie calm, his footsteps nearly silent. The further they went, the more the noise above them faded until it was nothing more than a distant murmur.
Knife's breath was ragged, each inhale coming in quick, shallow bursts as they navigated the dark corridor. His body still trembled from the barrage of arrows, blood dripping from the gashes, but there was something deeper, something more primal that clawed at him now. The hunger. It always came after a fight like that—the bloodlust that gnawed at him, urging him to let go, to release the monster within.
His hand clenched into a fist at his side, the nails elongating, sharp like talons. His heart pounded in his chest, a constant thrum that matched the pounding of his feet against the ground. He felt it—the almost unbearable urge to let loose. His muscles twitched, and for a brief, horrifying moment, he thought he might just reach out, grab Lin by the throat, and sink his claws into her skin. He wanted blood, he needed blood.
Lin turned around, making Knife put his hand away in his pocket. He needed to calm down.
"I think we're safe here," Lin murmured, her voice soft, as though saying it out loud could make it true. Her grip on the grocery bag loosened, her hands finally free to move without the weight of constant fear weighing her down.
Knife didn't immediately respond. He remained still, eyes scanning their surroundings, his body tense like a coiled spring, waiting for any sign of danger. It took a moment before he gave a low, almost bored response.
"Yeah, I guess,"
Lin's legs wouldn't stop shaking. Her breath came out in thin, wheezy bursts, and her hands were gripping the grocery bag like it might float away if she let go.
Knife stood a few feet ahead, tense, scanning every corner of the alley. His coat fluttered slightly in the breeze, but he didn't move otherwise. Quiet. Still. Focused like a hawk waiting for movement.
Lin swallowed hard.
Okay. Calm down. You can do this.
Her brain scrambled.
Remember what you read... Page 47. Making a good first impression: Step one—posture. Not too stiff. Not too slouchy. Don't stand like a tree, don't bounce like a rabbit.
She adjusted her stance. Too wide. Too narrow. She settled for something that felt like "confused yoga."
Step two—speak clearly. Friendly tone. Confidence is contagious. You've practiced this in the mirror. Like, a LOT.
She licked her dry lips.
Don't mess this up, Lin. He literally just saved your life. You don't want your second-ever conversation with a real person to be you... breathing weirdly at them.
She opened her mouth—and forgot every word she ever knew.
"I… I'm Lin," she said, voice cracking halfway through like a bad violin.
Knife didn't turn.
"Oh really?" he said, bored, still watching the shadows.
"THAT WAS YOUR TURN TO TELL ME YOUR NAME!" Lin raged.
She stood there, stunned, inner monologue now throwing its arms in the air like it had given up entirely.
He didn't even look at me. Who does that? Is this what making friends feels like? Should it feel more... friendlier?
Then her eyes drifted down to the bag—and the apple, round and red, peeked out from the torn paper like it was trying to help.
Without really thinking, she pulled it out and stepped closer, holding it out with both hands.
"Here," she said, quieter now. "Thank you. For saving me. You probably need it more than I do."
Knife looked at the apple. Then her. Then the apple again.
He took it, fingers brushing against hers—just for a second.
He bit into the apple like he hadn't eaten in hours.
"…Knife," he finally said, after a moment. The name came out like it had weight. Like it wasn't meant to be shared.
Lin blinked.
Her eyes lit up.
It worked.
Lin bowed slightly, her voice soft but sincere. "Thank you for saving me from the knights. I don't know what would've happened if you hadn't stepped in."
Knife glanced at her, biting into the apple without much thought. "Don't thank me," he muttered, his voice rough. "I didn't save you. They were just in my way."
Lin frowned but nodded, understanding the cold practicality of his words. "I see," she said quietly. "Even so, I'm grateful."
Knife gave a brief nod, not looking at her. "Whatever. Let's keep moving."
Lin smiled to herself, a quiet warmth spreading through her chest. Knife was kind—kinder than he let on.