Chapter 13: Hunter and Prey

Afternoon—ordinarily the time when sunlight burns brightest. Yet today, this rule no longer held true. As the air grew heavier, thick clouds slowly swallowed the sky. The rare, golden sunlight slipped behind the veil, casting the world in a dim, leaden hue.

Passersby understood what this signaled; each hurried their pace. Business was booming for the carriage drivers by the roadside, their cabs packed to bursting, their coin purses swollen with fares, as the carriages sliced through snow with shrill cries and clattering wheels.

"Hyah!"

A carriage raced by, its wheels flinging snow into the path of a slowly moving figure. The delicate flakes showered a frail silhouette, offering her the first, stinging taste of the storm's cruelty.

The driver spared not a glance. The figure hunched her back, shielding the bundle in her arms, then lowered her head to check it. Without a word, she pressed forward.

A young girl…

The objective was clear. Yet in this frigid, somber afternoon, where could one find prey upon the streets? The little beggar had already crossed several major roads. He had even stolen a moment to return home and feed the baby girl in his arms with a bit of bread. Still, he had not found a single target that met his grim criteria.

Snow, unable to restrain itself any longer, began to fall. Though gentler than yesterday's blizzard, it offered no comfort. Snow brought deeper cold, making the beggar's thin frame shiver ever more violently.

Eighth Street…

He had roamed the city beneath the falling snow for more than five hours. Fatigue crept into his limbs; his feet, once again, succumbed to the numbing chill. Lights began to flicker on in the homes lining the streets, casting warm glows through the windows. The air grew rich with the scent of supper, and the laughter of children—free and unburdened—drifted through the walls.

The beggar's steps were stubborn, but cold. Those lights, that warmth, those sounds—they did not belong to him. He had understood this long ago, even when his parents were still alive. The world he survived in was one of ceaseless blizzards. In such a place, there were no gentle hands to feed you, no warm coats gifted from love. Pity did not exist here. Everything had to be earned—through grit, through will. If he was to live on beneath the storm, he could only rely on himself.

He knew well the rules of this frozen world. Under the glow of the homesteads, he walked on. And yet—there was one thing he still could not do, no matter how much he tried to live by those rules.

Because, now and then, he would glance at the baby girl in his arms, press a hand to her forehead, checking her temperature...

…Forget it.

The beggar lifted his head, pushing aside the irrational tenderness within him. Fortunately, a new distraction soon made him forget his uncharacteristic behavior.

A girl had appeared in the snow. She had chestnut hair and a spirited, charming face. Wrapped in a snow-mink coat, she was cloaked in a warmth the beggar could barely imagine.

She was adorable. From the shadows of a side alley, the beggar observed her with a calculating, frigid gaze. His eyes narrowed with the calm precision of a predator. In this weather, she might be the only prey he could still hunt.

Clearly, she was a child of wealth. And of course, such a child would never be alone. Around her stood twelve adults, each visibly armed. Among them, a boy roughly two years her senior trailed behind, fawning over her with an obsequious grin.

"Everyone! We must find those villains who kidnapped the babies! We have to protect the children! Let those criminals learn just how foolish it is to commit crimes under my nose!"

The girl, gloved and gripping a small wooden flag, marched proudly at the front. Behind her, some of the adults chuckled, some sighed, and others shook their heads in helpless resignation.

She led the group straight down the street. The beggar, having noted their path, slipped into a nearby alley and followed in silence, seeking his opportunity.

"Let's see… thirteen people in total. Four swordsmen, three archers, three spearmen, two earth-shapers, and one useless brat. Heh… interesting."

A cold chuckle escaped from the depths of the beggar's mind—Annihilation. To the ancient sword, this formation seemed laughable. If it wished, it could slaughter every one of these guardians in a breath. But it did not move. It wanted to observe. It wanted to see how the beggar, faced with such odds, would achieve his goal. After all, it wasn't looking for a brute who relied solely on brute strength. From its last master's failure, it had learned well—only one who remained calm, who could succeed without invoking its power, was a worthy vessel.

The beggar ignored Annihilation's amusement. Using the narrow alleyways, he clung to the group like a shadow, eyes trained on the girl, while constantly assessing her entourage. He tailed them for half an hour…

…

…

…

At last, his patience bore fruit.

Aimless wandering was taking its toll on the boy following the girl. He dared not complain directly and instead crept up beside her, speaking in a soft, coaxing tone: "Um, La—Miss, look, it's getting late, and the snow's picking up..."

The girl raised her little flag and exclaimed with delight, "Exactly! It's late and snowing harder—perfect conditions for those bad guys to act! We need to double our efforts! I'm sure we'll uncover a clue soon!"

The boy's face twitched. His legs ached, weak from exhaustion. Raised in luxury, he had never endured such hardship. He wanted to go home—but couldn't say it aloud. Nor could he keep going. He was cold, tired, and could barely stand.

In desperation, he began signaling the adults, begging them with his eyes to intervene.

Truthfully, the guards were growing weary of this patrol. The girl's thinking was naïve. Marching boldly through main streets would never lead to a real capture. This endless wandering was fruitless and exhausting.

"Miss, we believe those kidnappers must have heard that you were personally leading the search. They must be terrified and hiding now. If you return home, they'll think the coast is clear. Then, we can catch them in the act!"

The girl pouted, thoroughly displeased by the guards' faltering spirits. A little snow, and they already wanted to give up? How could they call themselves champions of justice? Hmph—just like she thought. These small-town guards couldn't hold a candle to the soldiers of her own nation.

"I'm not leaving. Not until we catch them. As long as you're still defenders of the people, as long as you stand for justice, quit your whining and follow me!"

With that, she huffed and marched ahead, ignoring the guards entirely.

Seeing her so determined, the boy flatly refused to continue. He tugged at an earth-shaper's robe, whining pitifully. Overwhelmed, the guards paused to discuss.

"Should we… maybe escort the young master back first?"

"Looks like we don't have a choice. Just be quick about it. This girl's got her head full of heroic plays and songs. Thinks she's a savior or something."

"Don't worry. She'll tire herself out soon. Then we'll carry her home."

"Uncle! Are you done talking yet? I'm cold and tired!"

"Alright, alright. We'll take six men to see the young master home. The rest will stay behind and regroup later."

They agreed. But just as they were deciding who would go—

"Ah! Found you! Don't run, villain! Stop right there!"

The girl suddenly pointed to a dark alley and shouted excitedly. She waved her flag and bolted toward it.

The guards panicked. All but the one detained by the boy chased after her, yelling for her to stop.

"Miss! Step back! It's dangerous! Leave this to us!"

The girl darted into the alley. The figure she had glimpsed—a person cradling something—had vanished. As she waited for the others to arrive, a small shadow flickered deeper in the passage. Clearly, it held something in its arms.

"There! He's there! Hurry up!"

She waved frantically at the guards. But in that moment, the shadowed figure stumbled, falling into the snow.

The sight erased her last shred of caution. Raising her flag high, she charged forward. Within ten paces of the fallen figure, it suddenly scrambled upright and limped into another alley.

He's injured?! Her heart leapt with anticipation.

She plunged after him—into the labyrinth of alleys, into the hunt.