Mountains and Buffalo.

Chapter 29: Little Hero

Keeping up with the crowd was nigh impossible. Juke was saintly enough to wait for me, but I could tell by how he clicked his tongue that he was getting annoyed. Or was he getting anxious? I couldn't tell.

We arrived at the third floor. Another duo split off and the rest of us ascended. My poor stamina gave me difficulty, but I was riding a wave of adrenaline and anticipation I'd never felt before. Each step came and went without me realizing it, and soon enough, the floors whizzed by like a faint image. It was not until the seventh floor that I acknowledged what I saw again.

As it had gone since this started, I arrived last in the room, taking a moment to pant and catch my breath. The floor this time didn't have a straight shot from the entrance to the exit. It resembled the first floor more than anything: a large surface area with a foyer-like zone and branching paths, its size made possible only because there was no hallway transitioning from the stairs.

What was truly worrisome, though, was the lack of Bringers.

Though the floors flashed by, I never failed to keep my eye on the danger that resided in them. Not seeing them right away immediately put me on edge, and judging from the sluggish pace of everyone else, I wasn't alone. The crowd practically prowled the room. Some even checked behind furniture.

A minute passed, and the foyer was pronounced empty. The crowd left the zone, but I had to shoot one last scanning glance before I followed. They all moved to the left, and moving in tow, I turned the corner.

Though the entrance was similar to the first floor's, the primary chamber was different. Instead of a bulk surrounded by a circling hallway, it was four evenly spaced booths, forming a diamond, on a carpeted floor. The exit was placed stiffly by the topmost box. I noticed it before anyone else, but I was too nervous to point it out. It barely mattered since Pars noted it just a second later.

"Exit's here! Let's roll!"

I had a perfect line of sight from where I stood. Pars' forge ahead, and the sudden figure that sprung from a blindspot.

Everyone was caught off guard. The figure wore a familiar robe, one I loathed to see. Pars managed to block his leap, but the man had a cylinder resting on his shoulder. He pointed it at him and–

**BOOM**

A cloud of debris burst throughout the room. I closed my eyes in the nick of time, but the dust pricked and pinched at my skin. At least, it felt that way at first, until the squeezes transformed into burns.

"Ack!"

I brushed my skin with my hands but it was futile with how thick the cloud was. Too afraid to open my eyes, I moved my feet backward until I collided with something. My back hit the wall, I fell to the ground, and only then did I work up the nerve to see.

The room was a catastrophe.

Bodies littered the floor like wilting flowers. The warriors still moved and breathed but they writhed and gasped, clawing at their faces and limbs. The dust cloud was fortunately settling, and in the midst of nigh-cadavers was the robed man, lying on the ground.

Pars was on him. His coat was seared and his face was scratched, but he still brought down punches as if he suffered no injuries. After a few to the face, the man blocked one and shoved Pars off his body. He got up to the ground fast and assumed a fighting stance.

"Everyone," he shouted, "if you can see, help the blinded! Get a move on!"

Through the pressure of the situation, his commanding words resonated with the crowd. People followed his orders to a tee; everyone but me. I stood there, not from terror, but indecision.

I was behind the robed man. His backside was perfectly exposed. I was stuck between running or sneaking in a strike. But, once the two started exchanging attacks, I quit my vacillating and propped up my arm, beginning mana expulsion–

**STRIKE**

–only to be immediately interrupted.

A metallic clang blew out and shook my body not because of its ferocity, but because it happened right behind me. I turned my head a second after and saw two clashing swords, forming an x.

"Stop standin' still kid! Move!"

Without a second beat, I scurried away. I continued mana expulsion, partially out of instinct, and weakly lobbed a sturdy stone at the swords.

I didn't hit them. They separated, and only then did I see who wielded them. Juke on the right, and another robed man on the left.

I've seen those navy motifs enough to have them evoke a fighting instinct in me. I quickly regained my composure and got in a stance, taking my tendril out. Juke ran to my side, but he didn't stop.

"C'mon!"

"--Ah!"

I was quick enough to realize that this wasn't my fight. I turned tail and followed Juke, noticing that I finally wasn't the last to leave.

I made no effort to inspect the ones who weren't moving.

–