Eventide Scriptures I - The Shattering of an Era

Chapter 18.2 - Through the Veil of Night (Part II)

The bandits charged without questioning her command.

"Varn, I'll take care of Shelly–"

"Sherry."

"Fine. Just don't spill blood." Ryse dodged the bandits' weapon swings, weaving through them to approach Sherry. Meanwhile, Varne faced a dozen bandits alone.

The first bandit swung his fist. His size was enough to knock out a regular with a single punch. Varne sidestepped, letting the fist pass and causing the enemy to lose balance, then delivered a knee strike to his nose. The bandit knelt, clutching his bloodied nose.

Not spilling blood meant not spilling too much, right? So, if he made them bleed a little, it was fine, right? Varne grinned, facing the next attack.

Another bandit raised a rusty sword with both hands. His motion was too wide, Varne slipped his hand between the enemy's arms, grabbed his hair, and brought his face down to the ground. They must have been a perfect match, since he did not rise again.

The other bandits, enraged at their fallen comrades, attacked with a variety of weapons – if a chipped axe, toothless rake, worn spear, and others could be called weapons.

He had no trouble evading them all. They were regulars, and not even fighters. The way they swung their weapons betrayed their professions. Lumberjacks, small game hunters, root diggers, tree tappers, and the like.

The strength of a passive Prana Decima was enough to handle them. However, fighting over ten people without using deadly force meant he would take hits. Therefore, he activated Pale Thundercloud. The enemies retreated a few steps at the sight but attacked again.

Their weapons were ineffective against Pale Thundercloud. Even when they landed on unprotected parts, their attacks did not harm him. When activating Prana Armor, even the unprotected parts received some reinforcement.

In contrast, his blows toppled them as easily as toppling a person shouldering a metal bell at one end and a paper lantern at the other, and standing on one leg. After more than half of them were incapacitated, the rest fled towards Sherry, screaming for help.

"I'm busy!" Sherry retorted.

Sherry's capability surprised Varne. Even though Ryse was not using his full strength – a foolish move – she matched him. She relied on footwork and a combination of rapid punches to corner Ryse. Varne guessed she had enough Prana to be an active Prana Decima. It was her lack of training that kept her at the passive stage.

Her left hand deflected the whip accompanied by a metallic clang, while her right elbow arced towards Ryse's temple. Ryse blocked with one hand, but the strike was so powerful it made him hit his own face.

"Ha ha ha." He enjoyed seeing Ryse's face contort.

Sherry's spiked left fist aimed for the chin. Ryse dodged just in time, his hair swept back. She continued lunging to eliminate the advantage of his whip. They were equally fast, but she was more adept at footwork and knew the terrain better.

Ryse was pushed back into a small forest at the western end of the hill. Varne and the bandits followed. Sherry might have thought the forest would hinder the whip movement, but Varne knew she was wrong.

Ryse used the trees to create distance, then attacked from afar with his whip. It curved around trees, attacking from various angles.

She used both fists to deflect the whip. Sparks flew in the darkness. Yet, she could not close the distance, and her body began to show bruises, especially on her arms.

Unwilling to be cornered, she charged straight ahead with her hands raised beside her head. Tempest then curled towards her legs. This time, it was Ryse who was baited into attacking as the enemy hoped.

She had anticipated the attack on her legs, jumping onto a tree to use it as a springboard to launch herself at Ryse.

Gale Bolt in Ryse's free palm met her fist. Sherry's motion halted, but in its place, he was thrown back several steps. His position was now near the cliff's edge.

As Varne's gaze returned to her, the woman had already left her original spot. She leaped, feet landing on a tree trunk above before launching herself again at Ryse. A blue aura wrapped around her right fist.

Ryse made the right decision by leaping backward into the air. At the same time, he spread out green discs; their arrangement was not straight but curved to carry him back to the hill.

Thus, as Sherry's punch created a loud thud and a large depression in the ground, Ryse ran stepping on the Mistral and turned back to the hill. They were ready to face each other again when a sudden vibration shook the entire hill.

The edge of the hill where she stood broke away, carrying her who was too late to save herself. The bandits called out their leader's name, knowing from this distance they could do nothing.

Then Ryse, once again, acted beyond Varne's comprehension. Ryse jumped down. His left hand grabbed hers, while the whip in his right hand wrapped around a tree. They dangled from the cliff as chunks of rock fell into the corridor below.

Varne suspected Ryse's meddling nature was contagious. Uncharacteristic of him, Varne pulled the whip and hoisted them up. The bandits rushed to help Sherry to stand up.

Fierce expression returned to their faces as the bandits resolved to protect her from them. But she raised her hand to stop them.

"There are two things I fear most," she said to Ryse. She could stand on her own, but her entire body was stiff. "Hunger and heights."

It seemed her way of saying thanks – to Ryse, not to Varne.

"Boys! Take the injured and leave this place!" she said. "I suggest you two leave now."

With a toss of her blonde hair, she turned and walked away. The bandits supported each other and followed her like chicks after a hen.

"That's it? Just like that?" Varne said.

"Hopefully. Let's go before Isofean soldiers show up."

***

Varne and Ryse lay prone at the edge of the cliff. Below them, roofs of houses with windows emitting faint yellow lights were clustered in large and small groups. Braziers every ten steps illuminated the city's winding, asymmetrical streets.

During the curfew, only city guards were allowed outside, leaving the streets deserted. However, the grand lighthouse of Renfru, a symbol of its splendor and power, still shone with its fiery eyes.

"They haven't tightened security," Ryse whispered. "Maybe they're still keeping Ordofel's murder a secret."

"Not tight?" Varne frowned, seeing the city patrol torches floating through the streets. Ryse's actions and thoughts always contradicted his.

"See that house by the well?" Ryse said. "That's one of the entrances to the Thief Guild. That's where we're headed."

Ryse returned to stealth mode. As soon as the lighthouse's beam shifted from the cliff wall, he began descending. He stopped in the shadows when the lighthouse completed a rotation and returned, using the brief light to determine his next foothold. Varne followed him.

After all, Renfru was not a fortress; guarding every entrance was impossible. Reaching the city's edge, Ryse crossed one block to another. The systematic patrol routes made it difficult for them. Often, they had to return to a previous hiding spot while patrols passed by just a breath after they hid.

"Oi, kid!" a captain called from behind his troop. "You haven't checked here." He turned forward while his torch pointed to a gap between two houses, right at Ryse's face.

Varne was behind Ryse. The gap where they hid was so narrow there was no room for a full breath, let alone a fight. If enemies came with spears, they would be in trouble. Iron boots clinked on the road surface as the patrol turned to check. Varne drew Dorian's knife and prepared.