Witch Hunter

Chapter Three: Two Hunters One Prey

As the capital of Lumir, it was a given that Sigal was as prosperous as it was splendiferous to the eye. Built on a natural slope, the keep overlooked the city in its entirety. The view was one of the reasons why the wealthy fought over the limited domestic housing in the ‘upper district’.

Being in the town square, which was situated half-way through the upper district, Aion was afforded the cinematic view of a few thousand citizens milling about the main road that went straight from the south gate to the keep. When empty, the road took a good fifteen minutes to walk. It was far from empty.

The ubiquitous and ever-changing trappings of fashion hung elegantly off the shoulders of those in the upper district, their rich and lustrous colours overwhelming to the eye. Like an exquisite painting hung on a muddy wall, the lustre of wealth hung in stark contrast to the grim shades of brown and black – and every other colour pertaining to mud, sweat and dung – worn by the “denizens” of the lower district who lived farthest away from the keep, near the gates. It was convenient, argued the self-righteous snobs. It meant they were the first to die in the event of a siege, reasoned the ever-logical denizens. But, as was the custom, as much wealth as Sigal generated, there never seemed to be enough to fix up the lower district.

Of course, politics and ethics were the least of Aion’s worries now. The reason he surveyed the kaleidoscope before him was nothing short of a matter of life and death.

“You will take turns at playing hunter and prey. The prey’s job is to make it to the south gate without falling victim to the hunter. Obviously, this makes the hunter’s job to catch the prey. A successful catch means a clean strike with your fist, feet, head or any other serviceable limb you wish to strike your prey with. Any use of weapons, or facsimiles of weapons, will result in disqualification.

“Remember, you will be judged on your ability to stalk and your ability to flee. There’s nothing stopping you from sprinting the entire length of the road – except the thousands of bodies clogging the streets – but running will not impress the judges, who will be following and watching. Are there any questions?”

Immediately, a giant fist shot into the air.

“Yes?”

“Wha’s a fac-smiley?”

For a brief moment, the cloaked judge shot a sideways glance at his colleagues. Aion couldn’t help but grin, even if it meant aggravating the Hunter who had posed the question – which just so happened to be Groot.

“A facsimile? Never mind that, just don’t use any object as a weapon.”

Groot grinned. “Ok!” he replied brightly, cracking his knuckles. “I smash, then!”

Aion forced himself not to glance at his opponent, even though he felt imminent danger at his back. As the Hunters – or “examinees” as the Exorcists had called them – lined up at the mouth of the town square, Aion racked his brain.

Stalking someone the size of a mountain was hardly difficult. Hitting Groot would be like throwing a twig at a bear, but the Exorcists never said anything about the blow having to do any actual damage. No, what worried Aion was what would happen when he became the prey. As far as he was concerned, Aion didn’t think Groot would have much trouble charging straight through the thousands of people in his way, grabbing a hold of Aion, and extinguishing his life with a fist the size of Aion’s head.

*     *     *

Through the corner of his eye, he could see his companion edging closer.

“Yes, Tenfis?”

Even through the black cloak, the man managed to exude cheerfulness.

“There’s no sneaking up on you, is there Lucent?”