The pallid blush of dawn was just beginning to kiss the horizon when Evander began his morning run along the bay. The city was still in the throes of slumber, its denizens taking full advantage of the fleeting moments of peace before the day's demands came calling. The quiet rustle of the sea lapping against the shoreline provided a tranquil soundtrack to Evander's rhythmic footsteps. The only other sound was his steady breaths, the occasional seagull's cry, and the muted echo of his shoes scuffing against the sand.
Suddenly, the serenity was punctured by a cacophony of high-pitched whoops and hollers. His stride faltered, ears perking up to the sound that was decidedly out of place in the early morning tranquility. Eyes squinting against the morning sun, Evander scanned the horizon to locate the source of the noise.
His gaze landed on a small boat bobbing in the distance, the glint of the rising sun dancing off its chipped paint. As it drew closer, he could discern the magical inscriptions etched into the outboard motor, glowing a vibrant azure in the soft light. They seemed to hum with a life of their own, the magical energy propelling the boat forward at an impressive speed.
But what really caught his attention was the boat's passengers. About ten women, their laughter ricocheting off the water, creating a symphony of joviality that reverberated through the quiet morning. Their carefree hoots filled the air, echoing along the empty shoreline, their silhouettes lively against the backdrop of the slowly lightening sky.
As they neared, he could see them better. The women were passing around bottles, their contents glugging out in generous mouthfuls, laughter growing louder and more raucous with each swig. Their cheeks were flushed, eyes shining with mirth and something else, something that bubbled just under the surface, making their movements exaggerated, their laughter too loud. Drunk, Evander realized, his eyebrows arching slightly at the sight.
He slowed his run to a halt, his feet sinking slightly into the cool sand. He surveyed the scene, a sense of bemusement washing over him. It wasn't often that he saw such an animated spectacle at this time of the morning. His usually solitary morning run was being gatecrashed by a boatload of boisterous, inebriated women.
And for some inexplicable reason, it appeared that he was the star attraction. His solitary presence on the beach seemed to have caught their attention, their hollering now directed his way. Evander found himself at a loss, unsure how to respond to the rowdy greeting. Well, this is certainly one way to start the day.
Evander watched in disbelief as the scene unfolded before him. A few of the women aboard the boat had started to make obscenely lewd gestures at him. His eyebrows shot up, a bemused grin spreading across his face. The gestures were far from subtle and left little to the imagination. He laughed, the sound echoing across the deserted beach. His career had exposed him to far worse, and he could not help but find the situation amusing.
He had planned to leave, his daily schedule calling for him to continue his run. However, any thoughts of departing were abruptly disrupted when the boat, urged on by the magically inscribed motor, surged towards the beach. The women's cheers crescendoed into a triumphant roar, their faces animated with drunken excitement.
Quickly, he retreated up the beach, moving to the relative safety of the grass. He watched with wide eyes as the boat sped towards the shore, the laughter from the women rising to a fever pitch. The boat hit the sand with a jarring thud, eliciting a burst of elated cheers from the women.
One of the louder women launched herself from the boat, landing haphazardly in the sand. Her face was a picture of fierce determination, a predatory gaze fixed on Evander. He recognized that look. It was the look of a hunter locked onto their prey, and in this case, he was the unfortunate target. This can't be good.
As the woman sprinted towards him, something unexpected happened. The inscriptions on the beach flared up with a sudden intensity, painting the beach with a spectral blue light. Then, like a statue, the woman abruptly froze in her tracks. There was no indication of struggle, no attempt to break free, she was simply frozen, trapped in her last sprinting pose.
The following woman, too caught up in her own merriment, failed to notice the sudden halt. She crashed into her immobilized companion, eliciting a yelp of surprise as she, too, was instantly frozen in place. The light from the inscriptions faded, leaving Evander standing on the beach, watching the spectacle in stunned silence.
As he stood there, Evander's gaze was drawn back to the boat and its mysterious magical inscriptions. A part of him was intrigued, drawn to the enigma of the beach's defense system. How did the magic work? What were the principles that powered the sudden immobilization of the women? But any thoughts of investigation were hindered by the rest of the inebriated women, who remained on the boat, their hollers and catcalls echoing across the beach. Several of them were now making explicit gestures in his direction, their drunken bravado clear in their bold and unashamed attempts at seduction.
He returned their efforts with a nonchalant smile, shaking his head in gentle refusal. Their antics brought forth an inward chuckle, and he couldn't help but feel grateful. At least I was never this bad when I was drunk.
Before he could ponder further, the shrill cry of a siren cut through the air. He turned just in time to see another boat cutting through the water, swiftly approaching the shore. Unlike the first, this boat was sleek and polished, its black surface gleaming under the morning sun. A strip of electric blue running along the side held the word 'police' in bold, white letters.
Watching with a newfound interest, Evander saw as the police quickly went about their work. The drunken women on the boat, their laughter silenced, were swiftly arrested, their hands bound and heads ducked as they were guided onto the police boat. He could see the officers maintaining a professional demeanor, unphased by the lewd jests and drunken protests of the arrested women.
Then came the difficult part. The officers approached the two women who were still frozen in place, stuck within the beach's magical defense. With a length of rope, the officers slowly and carefully worked to extricate them. With each tug of the rope, the women were pulled bit by bit from the boat's immobilizing enchantment until they too were safely aboard the police vessel.
Amidst the commotion, Evander's attention was drawn to a specific officer - a woman who seemed to command the scene. Even from a distance, he could make out the lines of authority etched onto her face and the way her uniform sat snug against her well-built frame. However, it was her eyes, narrowed and filled with an air of annoyance, that were aimed directly at him. He watched as one of her officers leaned in to whisper something, her hands waving in a placating gesture. However, she merely waved her off with an irritated flick of her hand.
With a resolute stride, she made her way towards the edge of the beach's magical defenses, her gaze never straying from Evander. She then cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted across the distance separating them. Her voice, laced with annoyance, carried over the sounds of the lapping waves.
"If you stopped provoking them, our jobs would be a thousand times easier!" she shouted, the accusation hanging heavily in the air.
Caught off guard, Evander straightened, his brow furrowing in confusion and indignation. His retort echoed over the beach, surprising not just the officer, but all her colleagues as well.
"What did I do wrong?" he shouted back, the defensive tone in his voice an unspoken challenge.
The officer's eyes widened momentarily before she regained her composure. "You can't just stand there in sight and draw women to you. Did you know that a man running alone on this beach every day has drawn attention on the net?"
Her words hung in the air, leaving Evander in a state of stunned silence. The accusation felt ludicrous to him, the weight of her words pressing down on him with an unforeseen burden. This is absurd... he thought, his mind trying to grapple with the bizarre twist his morning run had taken.
"But you have to understand, it's your presence here, your...outfit, your demeanor that's causing this chaos!" the officer asserted, her tone carrying an undercurrent of agitation. She gestured towards the throng of drunk women being herded away by the other officers.
Evander, who had been silently listening to her accusations, finally opened his mouth, "You're trying to tell me that exercising in workout gear is now a crime?" His voice dripped with incredulity, matching the sharpness of her tone. The echoes of the morning surf punctuated their verbal volley.
"No, I'm not saying that!" The officer huffed in exasperation, running a hand through her hair. "I'm saying that you're a distraction. A nuisance."
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A bitter chuckle escaped Evander's lips. "So, my freedom to take a jog is now a nuisance? Isn't it the duty of the police to ensure that citizens can live their lives without fear of harassment?"
"Yes, it is," she retorted, her voice laced with stubbornness. "And we are doing our job by asking you to avoid inciting unnecessary attention. Look at what happened today."
"I'm not responsible for the actions of some drunk women!" he snapped back, his own temper beginning to fray at the edges. "Am I expected to stop living my life just because some people can't control themselves?"
The officer clenched her jaw, her patience dwindling. "You're twisting my words, mister. It's not about stopping your life. It's about showing some discretion. You can't run around half-naked and then blame others for reacting!"
Evander felt his muscles tense. He was only in shorts and a cut-off T-shirt. It wasn't as if he was parading around naked. He was starting to look good with all the exercise, but it was hardly his fault if that drew attention.
"So, what you're saying is that I need to be more 'timid' and act 'like a man should'?" he questioned, the mockery apparent in his voice. "Should I also stay home and avoid public places, perhaps?"
The officer's gaze hardened, "If that's what it takes for you to stop causing disturbances, then yes!"
Evander couldn't believe what he was hearing. She was blaming him for the reckless behavior of those women, undermining his right to simply be.
"I have every right to be here, doing what I do every day - jogging. If someone can't handle that, it's their problem, not mine." Evander's retort echoed across the beach, the early morning sun casting long shadows over the arguing duo.
The officer seemed momentarily taken aback, but then her gaze returned to the hardened stare, "Until it affects public order, yes, it is your problem, mister. And ours."
Evander's pulse thrummed with indignation. The waves continued to crash in the background, a constant reminder of his interrupted morning routine. He would not be swayed, not by accusations and certainly not by someone else's lack of restraint.
"Then, officer, it seems we have different views on freedom, responsibility, and public order," he said, his tone final. He had argued enough.
The officer didn't let up, shouting after him as he turned to resume his jog, "This isn't the end of this. You need to cover up and not be out here! Go home and stay inside!"
Evander's footprints in the sand were the only signs of an argument that had ebbed as quickly as it had started. His mind, however, carried the ripples of their discordant conversation. He was left with an unpleasant sensation of conflict, just as the morning sun was beginning to bring warmth to the new day.
Since when did going for a run become a provocation? he thought incredulously, his muscles coiling in indignation. Dressed in only a pair of shorts and a cut-off t-shirt that clung to his increasingly toned physique, he didn't see anything inappropriate with his attire.
After the dramatic confrontation with the police officer, Evander continued his run, his mind whirling with the implications of the morning's incident. The rhythmic thud of his shoes hitting the sand, the salty tang of the ocean air, the cry of the gulls above; it all merged into a soothing lullaby that slowly quenched the fires of his anger.
I need to think this through, he thought, the cool morning breeze rustling his hair. The sun was now a radiant orb in the sky, its gentle warmth seeping into his skin. The rhythm of his run became meditative, each stride grounding him, reminding him of the world outside his mind.
In this society, it seemed, men were seen as potential targets if they weren't chaperoned. I can't let my guard down. He couldn't deny that the thought unnerved him. A part of him was indignant, offended at the violation of his personal freedoms. Another part of him recognized the reality of his situation, understanding that his frustrations would not change societal norms.
Every step he took on the sandy path etched a deeper understanding in him. His actions were constantly under scrutiny, and a single misstep could land him in a world of trouble. The drunken women from the boat were evidence of how quickly things could spiral out of control.
At least those magical wards held them back, he thought, remembering the sight of the women frozen in their tracks. The faint luminescence of the wards had reflected in their wide, startled eyes. There was a hunger in those eyes, a burning intensity that made Evander's skin crawl. If not for the wards, things could have gotten violent.
The thought brought a shudder that had nothing to do with the cool ocean breeze. He needed to tread carefully, especially when out at night. If his vulnerability was discovered, if word got out that a handsome, unescorted man was roaming the streets, he could be an easy target. And reacting to such threats could attract even more unwanted attention.
He remembered the police officer's harsh words, her piercing gaze. It wasn't just the drunken women he had to worry about. The law enforcement had their eyes on him as well. I need to be discreet, to blend in. It's the only way to avoid trouble.
By the time Evander finished his run, the sun had fully emerged, casting long shadows on the sandy beach. His muscles ached pleasantly.
In the wake of the morning's incident, Evander was anything but idle. He had an itinerary, a plan of action that included far more than arguing with law enforcement on beaches. He navigated his way back to where he had hidden his backpack. In it lay his weapons - a knife and a handgun, both bearing the mysterious symbols of the magic inscriptions that were rapidly becoming a commonplace aspect of his new life.
Strapping the backpack snugly onto his well-toned shoulders, Evander set off on a jog along the beach. His strides were long and efficient, the result of countless hours spent pounding similar sandy trails in the military. His heart pounded in sync with his steps, his breath steady as he kept a moderate pace, not rushing but not dawdling either.
After what felt like a significant amount of time, he arrived at a secluded wilderness area, a natural hollow surrounded by a lush expanse of forest and towering trees. The verdant greenery created a private enclave, a sanctuary hidden away from prying eyes. Evander paused, his azure gaze sweeping the area meticulously, ensuring he was alone before proceeding with his intended plan.
Once satisfied with his solitude, he unzipped his backpack, the sound of the zipper slicing through the tranquil silence. He carefully extracted the handgun, holding it in his hands with a familiar, almost intimate ease. Its cold metallic surface was covered with complex, intricate magical inscriptions, an alien language to Evander, who couldn’t make head or tail of their meanings. Yet, despite the arcane symbols, the firearm was simple to operate - a safety switch and an uncomplicated trigger mechanism were its only controls.
Double-checking his surroundings once more, a force of habit drilled into him during his previous life, Evander pointed the handgun towards a dry, sandy section of a nearby embankment. His eyes were focused, the usually bright azure hue darkened with determination. His grip on the handgun was firm, his posture rigid, the entirety of his being centered on the inanimate target in front of him.
The serenity of the secluded enclave was punctured by the near-silent discharge of Evander's weapon. A bolt of searing fire lanced through the still air, impacting the sandy embankment with ferocious intensity. The force of the attack morphed the sand instantly into a small patch of glittering glass, the intense heat fusing the particles together.
Evander froze for a moment, holding his breath as his gaze darted around the hollow, making sure the near-silent discharge hadn’t attracted unwanted attention. It was an instinctive reaction, honed through years of being in situations where the price of being discovered was often too high. He was relieved when nothing stirred, no curious eyes peered from behind the foliage, no alarmed voices echoed through the silence.
Turning back to the patch of glassy sand, Evander's eyes traced the aftermath of his shot. It was startling, the sheer destructive power of the magic-infused weapon. The sand, under the onslaught of intense heat, had metamorphosed into a glassy patch, the edges still radiating heat. It wasn't hard to imagine the damage such a weapon could inflict on a living creature. A thin smirk played across his lips. This should definitely put a dent in those monsters.
Emboldened by the success of his first shot, Evander proceeded to put the inscribed handgun through its paces over the next few hours. He was methodical in his approach, observing each shot and its impact, familiarizing himself with the weapon's strengths and limitations.
The weapon, he found, was not designed for long-range attacks. Its effectiveness reduced drastically beyond twenty meters, and the accuracy was only satisfactory within a ten-meter radius. However, within this range, it was a force to be reckoned with, capable of discharging fiery rounds in rapid succession. The catch was that the weapon needed a recovery period after a burst of rapid fire – around two minutes for every five rounds.
The realization prompted a thoughtful frown from Evander. I'll have to be judicious with rapid fire, then. Can't risk running out of rounds when faced with a monster.
Experimentation revealed that the weapon allowed for a continuous rate of fire with half a minute intervals between the shots. This proved to be a relief; a careful, strategic approach was more in line with Evander's combat style.
Evander's focus shifted from the mystical firearm to the blade that lay nestled within his backpack. Drawing it out, he took a moment to admire its craftsmanship. The knife had a simplicity to it that was both elegant and deadly. The blade was polished to a gleaming finish, its edges promising a sharpness that went beyond the mundane. The hilt was etched with intricate inscriptions, pulsating subtly with an inner light, waiting to be activated.
He found that a mere touch to one such inscription was enough to unlock the blade's magic. The razor-sharp edge shimmered, and Evander discovered with a test swing that the knife could slice through the air with an ease that bordered on uncanny. Sharper than the sharpest steel... almost ethereal.
Taking a stance, Evander began to practice with the blade. His movements were graceful, fluid, a dance of precision and control. The knife cut through the air, leaving trails of silver light in its wake. Every thrust, every swing, every feint was executed with lethal accuracy. He alternated between the gun and the knife, training his body to transition smoothly between the two.
The soft whispers of the leaves, the rhythmic breaking of the waves, and the occasional calls of distant birds made for an orchestra that underscored his solitary practice. Hours rolled by in this rhythmic dance of power and precision, and slowly, he could feel his body adapting to the rhythm of the weapons, accommodating their power and their potential into his muscle memory.
As the afternoon sun began its descent, casting long shadows over the tranquil hollow, Evander concluded his practice for the day. His body glistened with sweat, a testament to the intensive training he had put himself through.
Shaking off the tiredness, Evander gathered his belongings and broke into a steady jog towards the dome. The night promised an adventure, a step closer to his goals.