The city sprawled beneath Ba Gấu like a terrified marionette, its cobbled streets twisting and turning in a desperate attempt to impede his escape. But escape he would, his monstrous form a whirlwind of fur and fury.
He vaulted across rooftops with the grace of a panther defying gravity, each landing echoing like a thunderclap. His enhanced vision painted the scene in stark clarity, the guards below moving in slow motion, their panicked cries reaching him as distorted whispers. There didn’t seem to be anyone chasing him. Didn’t the city go on high alert because he went through killing indiscriminately? Maybe he was just moving too fast. But the blur wasn’t completely unnoticed
One particularly overzealous guard, a young male with a trembling spear and a sweat-slicked brow, caught Ba Gấu's in the corner of his eye. He reacted instantly. This one, fueled by misplaced bravery or sheer idiocy, dared to charge.
As the guard launched himself forward, Ba Gấu, with a playful glint in his supernaturally sharp eyes, twisted in mid-air. His powerful legs lashed out, catching the spear with the flat of his foot and sending it spinning into the night sky like a drunken javelin.
The guard, propelled by his own momentum and Ba Gấu's casual swat, somersaulted through the air, landing with a comical pratfall into a fruit vendor's stall. A cascade of oranges and melons erupted around him, the vendor erupting in a torrent of colorful curses that, in Ba Gấu's heightened state, sounded like the melodious chirping of a particularly disgruntled canary.
His laughter, a raw, guttural sound that sent shivers down spines and shattered windows, echoed through the night. His escape wasn't just fueled by rage; it was laced with a twisted sense of humor, a dark amusement born of the monstrous cocktail coursing through his veins.
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He launched himself again, leaping clean over a towering clock tower, its chimes stuttering in his wake. From his vantage point, he scanned the horizon, his sharp eyes piercing the darkness, searching for any hint of the Weaver's trail.
Suddenly, a glint of moonlight on metal caught his attention. A lone guard, perched on a distant rooftop, held a hand mirror, its reflection catching the moonbeams and signaling to unseen accomplices.
Ba Gấu grinned, a feral expression that stretched the scars on his face. He wouldn't just escape; he would leave a message, a bloody calling card.
With a burst of speed that left a sonic boom in its wake, he shot towards the unsuspecting guard. In the distorted world of his enhanced senses, the guard barely even had time to flinch before a blur of fur and fangs slammed into him.
There was a sickening crack, a muffled scream, and then silence. The mirror clattered to the rooftop, its reflective surface shattered, sending shards of moonlight skittering across the city like fallen stars.
Ba Gấu stood over the crumpled form, his chest heaving, the Raven's Hunger momentarily sated by the raw surge of life-force. But it wasn't just hunger that fueled him; it was a twisted sense of justice, a warped desire to punish those who aided the elusive Weaver.
With one last roar that split the night in two, Ba Gấu vanished into the darkness, leaving behind a trail of fear, laughter, and shattered fruit, a macabre symphony on the prelude to his monstrous hunt. The city held its breath, its wronged pry turned predator, its peaceful citizen become its nightmare, all thanks to a taste of forbidden power and the machinations of an unseen enemy. The game had changed, and the stakes had never been higher.