Jog on

Minutes earlier :

A young, gaunt-looking teenager releases a long sigh as they stumble through the alleyway, their belly groaning with hunger as they pick through the garbage piled up either side of the alleyway walls.

"So hungry... Why can't those guys pick on someone else that actually has money?..." he angrily grumbles.

Jojin had been an orphan for as long as he could remember. He grew up alone in a nearby village, but as soon as he was able to fend for himself, the village exiled him, not wanting to use any more of their strained resources on someone who had no apparent relation to any of the other villagers.

The only reason he hadn't starved to death yet was mainly to due him managing to get into Antomiers... While his situation wasn't much better in his village, Antomiers had far more resources for an opportunistic person like him to grasp on.

Unfortunately, despite his surprising talent in pickpocketing, stealing, and information gathering. Any wealth he accrued for himself was quickly stolen away by the D'argent gang. With no real way to fight them, he was slowly headed to the brink... Honestly, his only real chance of survival would be to sell himself to a bigger gang in the city. But he was reluctant to do so as he'd become the very thing he hated... Not to mention the high possibility of him being forced into some horrific circumstances...

It wasn't unheard of for the Salhope gang to sell the young to the higher echelon... If you were lucky, you'd become a noble woman's pet... If not, well...

Jojin shakes his head at such thoughts, and scampers through the alleyway as he hears a commotion nearby. He sneaks out of the crevice he'd hidden himself in and spots a group of men surrounding an old man, who was trying to deescalate the situation.

Unfortunately, the gang members seemed to take his words as 'talking down' to them. One of them walked behind him and whacked the old man in the back of the head with a club.

Jojin couldn't help the shocked shout that escaped his lips, but it was already far too late to flee now... Instead, he runs towards the men and shields the old man, trying to see if he was still breathing on not.

The group surrounding him just laughs though, "Heh, you just hit some kid's Grandpa! Go on, deal with the kid too, I've read too many stories to let this lie." one states, encouraging the crazed man with a club to continue.

Jojin feels his body freeze with terror, knowing that this very well could be his end... He shuts his eyes as the man approaches with a club, and...

*Thunk! Clack!*

...

When he doesn't feel the club land on his head, Jojin opens his eyes to look at what happened. they widened to an almost comical degree however when he saw the crazed man lying on his back with an arrow lodged in his eye... "Huh..." he asks while numbly looking around at the panicking criminals.

*Thunk! Clack!*

Another man hits the floor, the sound of his seemingly bringing Jojin's senses back. He struggles to calm his breathing as he attends to the older man, knowing that if the situation got back enough, taking hostages wasn't out of the question.

"O-Old man! Wake up!" he quickly whispers and the old man groans as blood slowly drips from the tip of his nose.

"W-what happened?" he asks as he rolls into his back, coughing a couple times and snorting in a bit of his blood.

"I don't know, but we gotta hide!" Jojin states, trying to drag the old man to the alleyway where he'd first noticed the commotion.

Luckily, none of the gang members takes notice of them as they continue to try and find their attacker. By now, their numbers had been reduced from twelve to six, and the men looked on the verge of running for the hills.

Jojin hears a flutter from behind him and turns just in time to notice a cloaked figure drop from a nearby rooftop while plunging a sword into a gang member's back. It goes straight through them, the blade sprouting from their chest like an old oak tree.

The figure pulls it out in a swift motion, causing blood to squirt from the wound like a fountain as the man falls face-first on the floor, obviously dead.

The remaining five gang members notice this and all charge at the cloaked figure, now able to take revenge for his earlier ranged assault.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Michael cautiously steps back from the group of five men after finishing off their friend. Two days ago he could barely handle three in melee combat, even while using his spells, so this was more to increase his skill than anything else... After all, he could've just kept shooting arrows from above if he wanted.

He raises his weapon and deflects the first attack from the thug, making some small steps to place the man between himself and his other enemies.

The man tries to feint an attack on Michael's groin, and midswing changes his target to his face. This might have worked had Michael's reflexes been drastically increased by the Gandalfr runes, he was still susceptible against more experienced combatants, but his sheer physical dominance over them made most attacks useless.

Michael catches the club with his hand, somehow holding back his wince of pain as he catches it. With his enemy's weapon secured, he thrusts his blade through their stomach, almost lifting them off of the ground due to the sheer force of it.

The man spits out a puddle of blood as he drops to his knees, allowing Michael to attend to the others who were trying to surround him.