Aliath

The Man and the Hero

As the night cloaked itself in darkness, about ten masked men ran through the streets of the capital. So far, their mission has been running smoothly. So far...

But not too far from them was Bitrus, the hero. Worse – he seemed to have noticed them as well.

"What do we do? Do we proceed as planned?" one of the men asked.

After a brief moment of silence, one of them responded, "I think the cloak is still active. He doesn't seem to have noticed us yet. Let us make haste."

But as they tried to run across a corner, Bitrus's gaze turned towards them, forcing them to retreat behind the covers of the dark.

"What was that just now? I said the cloak is still active," one of the masked men whispered once more."

"He just looked at me!" the one who had retreated exclaimed in a hushed voice, shrinking into the shadows as though the glance still clung to him.

"And without the cloak, he would have heard us now as well," the man replied. "Now, let us move," he continued as he made his way to lead the group from the front.

They walked in what appeared to be plain sights, except, no one could see them. But every now and then, Bitrus glanced in their direction, as if disturbed about something. They knew the cloak was active, but it wouldn't keep them hidden for long. Bitrus was already suspicious.

Just then, his gaze was fixed on their position too long for comfort, forcing them to take cover once more.

"I'm telling you. He can sense us!" the paranoid masked man whispered once more.

"I don't think he can, or he would have attacked already. He has only responded when we were out in the open. The moon is doing us a great disservice. Perhaps it would be better to move under the cloak of the night," another one responded.

"That defeats the purpose of the test. We're supposed to be undetectable," the leader responded.

"I know. But he can't sense us, but can see us barely, somehow. Let's not risk it. We'll try again," the man responded.

"Fine. We'll do just that," the man said at last, and a quiet wave of relief swept through the group.

But Bitrus's gaze was still fixed on their position. And then, he began to walk towards them as though he was certain of their presence. The men began to fidget.

"He knows!" one of them cried.

The leader breathed a heavy sigh. He knew what must be done. Some of them needed to make the sacrifice so others could escape.

Bitrus walked boldly towards the seeming threat. A reckless move it was, but he needed them to react. He needed them to know he was on to them. After all, how else would he uncover their exact position if they didn't notice that he noticed them?

"The three of us will attack him," he said, pointing to two others behind him. The rest of you will return. He can't see us properly or sense us. The few seconds we buy you should be enough," he added.

One of the men behind sank to the ground in defeat. He pulled off his mask, revealing prematurely grey hair and a face carved with scars far too many for someone so young. From his pack, he retrieved a pipe, lit it, and inhaled calmly—much to the disbelief of the others.

"And what exactly do you think you're doing?" the leader groaned.

"It's Bitrus, the hero," the young man replied flatly. "If he knows we're here, then there's no use. We're all dead. Might as well get in one last smoke," he said blandly.