"Thief! Catch the thief!"
The cry ripped through the busy market district. Between the stalls of shouting sellers and the crowds of shoppers, a small figure darted like a minnow through a stream. A faded scarf was wrapped tightly around the lower half of his face, and he clutched a large bundle of cloth to his chest, something bulky and heavy wrapped within it. He moved with a desperate, weaving grace, slipping through gaps in the crowd just as three soldiers in polished black armor crashed through behind him.
"Don't let him escape! He stole from my stall!" a baker roared, pointing a flour-dusted finger at the fleeing child. The man's face was flushed with anger.
The lead soldier clenched his jaw. "He's faster than he looks. Do not lose him!"
"Yes, sir!"
They charged forward, but the boy's agility was not that of an ordinary child. He seemed to flow through the chaos, using the crowd as a living shield, making the armored men struggle to keep pace.
Glancing over his shoulder, the boy saw he was putting distance between himself and his three pursuers. A flicker of hope rose in his chest.
But it died instantly. More soldiers appeared at the far end of the lane, their heads turning in unison as they spotted him.
"No way I'm getting caught today!" he hissed to himself. Skidding to a halt, he pivoted on his heel. His eyes locked onto a narrow side street, a dark alley mouth gaping between two tall, leaning buildings. Without a second thought, he plunged into the gloom.
The soldiers converged at the alley's entrance, their heavy breaths clouding in the cool air. "Where did he go?" one of them demanded, peering into the shadows.
"This way!" another yelled, and they all funneled into the narrow passage, their armor scraping against the rough stone walls.
The alley was a tunnel of crumbling brick and forgotten refuse. The boy sprinted to its end, his heart sinking as the walls closed in on a solid, moss-covered barrier. A dead end.
He turned to face the advancing soldiers, the sound of their footsteps growing louder. A weary sigh escaped his lips. "Well," he muttered, "today is definitely not my lucky day."
"Stop right there you bastard !"
The moment they arrived at the dead end, their faces were etched with anger and exhaustion. One soldier stepped forward from the group of five. A pale scar cut through the stubble close to his mouth, and his hand rested on the hilt of his sword, ready to draw.
"Better cooperate, you little rat," the scarred soldier growled. "We have you cornered. Now, hand over that bag!"
The boy looked at the five soldiers blocking his escape, his eyes assessed them, their stances, their tired faces. A slow smile spread across his features. He started to laugh softly, a hint of genuine amusement in the sound as he scratched the back of his neck.
"Ah, shit," he sighed, his shoulders slumping in apparent defeat. "I guess this is it,you got me…I'll have to surrender."
He took a few slow, shuffling steps forward, his head bowed, the large cloth bundle held loosely in his arms. The lead soldier relaxed his grip on his sword, a smirk touching his scarred lip.
It was a mistake.
In one fluid motion, the boy swung the heavy cloth bundle like a pendulum. He didn't aim for the body, he aimed for the face. The bundled mass smashed squarely into the mouth of the soldier in front, cutting off his smirk with a sickening thud.
"Ugh!" The man staggered backward, hands flying to his bloodied lips. Two of his comrades instinctively moved to catch him, creating a moment of confusion.
The boy was already moving. He used the stumbling soldier as a springboard, planting a foot on the man's chest to shove him fully to the ground and vaulting upward. He sailed over the tangled cluster of soldiers, his cloak fluttering behind him like a dark wing.
His feet touched the cobblestones just beyond them, and he bolted for the alley's entrance. But one soldier, quicker than the rest, had stayed back. A strong hand shot out from behind and seized the trailing end of the boy's scarf, yanking him backward with a brutal jerk.
The boy was pulled off balance, but the sudden force also ripped the knot loose. The scarf spun away, revealing a shock of hair the color of fresh blood a brilliant, unmistakable crimson.
The soldier holding the empty scarf stared, his grip going slack. "W-What? That hair…" he stammered, his voice filled with disbelief.
The boy turned his head, his exposed face now wearing a sharp, defiant grin. "Shit," he said, the word more a statement of fact than fear. "I guess they caught me. I'm fine, though."
From the back, the soldier with the scar finally found his voice, roaring with realization.
"Damn it all! I knew it! What is that slave bastard doing inside the Second Wall?"
"Tsk. Stop calling me 'slave'," the boy shot back, folding his arms. His yellow eyes glinted with a fierce light as he glared at the angry soldier. "I told you, my name is Shion. Remember it."
"I don't care about your stupid name, you stupid kid," the man snarled, wiping the blood from his split lip with the back of his hand. "You know the rules, Atilui slaves belong in the Third Wall and Crossing into the Second Wall is forbidden. The punishment is death."
One of the other soldiers stared in bafflement. "Just what was he thinking? Risking his life … for a stolen loaf of bread?"
The scarred leader finished cleaning his wound, his expression turning cruel. "His reasons don't matter. First, we capture him." He drew his sword, the metal singing as it left its scabbard. "Then, we make sure to break every bone in his body. I've heard the rumors about your people, unnaturally fast healers, aren't you? We're going to have a lot of fun testing that theory."
Shion didn't flinch. Instead, he raised his chin in defiance. "Go ahead and try it, you Kurtkin bastards! I'm not afraid of morons like you!"
"You insolent brat!"
The moment the soldiers tensed to charge, Shion spun on his heel and exploded into a sprint, hurtling back down the dark alleyway. The thunder of armored boots followed instantly as the soldiers gave chase, their blades gleaming in the slivers of dim light.
"There's no point in running, kid!" the scarred soldier's voice boomed off the close walls, echoing after the fleeing boy. "We've seen your face! We know what you are! Hiding back in the Third Wall won't save you now!"