Manasei climbed up the ladder toward the manhole, the effort far more taxing with only one hand. But he gritted his teeth and pushed through. At last, he reached the top. With his right hand, he pushed the manhole cover aside, using his legs to keep balance so he would not fall off the stairs.

What greeted him was pure pandemonium.

Shouts and screams filled the air as people ran in every direction, their faces pale with fear. Enforcers waded through the crowd, their batons and runic guns strapped securely to their sides as they shouted orders in an attempt to bring some semblance of control.

Manasei pulled himself up cautiously, his torn cloak falling over his missing hand. He took a moment to survey his surroundings. The alley he emerged into was mercifully empty. He kicked the manhole cover back into place before darting out into the street.

The atmosphere was suffocating, a mix of fear and urgency that made it difficult to focus. But Manasei had one goal: finding the dungeon portal.

It wasn't hard to narrow it down. The panicked crowd moved away from a particular area, their reactions like breadcrumbs leading to the source of the danger. And then, he saw it.

Suspended about a foot off the ground, the portal pulsed ominously. Its surface shimmered and swirled, hues of deep violet and black mixing like ink in water.

Manasei's heart pounded as he pushed through the crowd, his focus locked on the portal.

As Manasei sprinted toward the dungeon portal, his mind wrestled with doubt. The ominous gateway loomed ahead, its swirling violet and black surface promising danger.

Maybe I don't have to take this risk... he thought desperately. Maybe I can find another way to escape.

But before the thought could take hold, his instincts screamed at him. He threw himself to the side, his reflexes honed by years of survival.

SWISH!

A circular blade whizzed past his cloak, slicing cleanly through the air before embedding itself into an innocent bystander. The person dropped to the ground, lifeless.

Manasei's heart sank, a wave of guilt threatening to consume him. But there was no time to grieve. The reality was clear, one of the assassins, if not both, had caught up to him. His hopes of slipping away unnoticed had been crushed.

Gritting his teeth, Manasei's mind raced. The crowd erupted into chaos, screams echoing around him as people scrambled to get away from the sudden violence. In the panic, he spotted the chakram exit the bystander's body. Its deadly spin had halted, and he knew he had only seconds before it was lost in the crowd.

he darted toward the fallen weapon, yanking it free from the trembling ground. The chakram felt unnervingly cold in his hand, but he shoved the thought aside, tucking it beneath his cloak to conceal it.

As he straightened, his eyes locked with those of 69. The taller assassin stood amidst the crowd, his masked face revealing nothing, but his eyes burned with malice.

Manasei returned the glare, his own narrowed with equal determination.

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He had no time to waste.

The portal was only 50 meters away now, Manasei dashed through the crowd, weaving between panicked bodies and shouts of terror. His heart pounded, and his grip on the stolen chakram tightened.

I have to make it, he thought. There's no turning back now.

His only hope was that 69 hadn't noticed the theft.

In the escaping crowd, now even more panicked after finding a dead body so close to the portal, stood a boy of about eleven years old. His baggy leather pants were tattered, his belt barely holding them in place, and his blue jacket hung loosely over his thin frame. It was the same rat Manasei had encountered earlier today.

The boy was shaken, much like everyone else. Dungeons rarely appeared in the city, especially in the slums. Most were cleared swiftly by empire alchemists or powerful guilds before they ever became a threat. Yet, here it was, a glaring anomaly in a place already riddled with turmoil.

The boy had seen the person killed not far from the portal, but what shocked him more was the figure standing next to the body: Manasei. His eyes widened as he realized it was indeed the older boy. Something seemed off, though, was one of Manasei's arms missing?

The thought made his stomach churn. Though he didn't know Manasei well, the sight unsettled him deeply. His pale expression betrayed his thoughts as he tried to piece together what must have happened in the past few hour or so.

As he watched, Manasei sprinted through the crowd, his torn cloak flapping behind him. He was heading straight for the dungeon portal.

Why? the boy thought, his surprise mounting. It wasn't just the direction that caught his attention, it was the way Manasei moved, as if he were running from someone. Or something.

And the boy was right. Though he couldn't fully track them, he caught glimpses of a figure moving with ghostly allure through the crowd. Whoever it was, they seemed to be targeting Manasei specifically.

The boy's heart pounded as he gripped the edges of his jacket, watching the scene unfold with growing dread. Manasei wasn't just running toward the portal, he was running for his life.

As 69 pursued Manasei through the chaotic crowd, 72 trailed not far behind. Both of them kept their eyes fixed on their target, their expressions hidden behind their masks but their frustration evident.

"What is this kid thinking? Is he suicidal?" 72 muttered, his voice sharp with disbelief. "How could he just run into a dungeon like this?"

"He must think he can escape through the dungeon's objective," 69 replied coldly. "Hmph. We have to kill him before he gets there."

"That's easier said than done," 72 grumbled, glancing at the panicked mass of people surging around them. "Look at all these fools buzzing around. It's slowing us down as much as him."

While the two assassins debated their next move, Manasei was watching them closely, his sharp gaze flicking back to gauge their movements. The chakram, concealed beneath his cloak, felt heavy in his grasp. It was his one trump card, and they hadn't seemed to notice he had taken it.

Not yet, Manasei thought, gritting his teeth as he carefully edged closer to the portal. I have to wait for them to close the distance even more. If I can just take out one of them…

Step by step, he moved through the crowd, his mind focused on timing. Meanwhile, 69 and 72 were coming to a grim conclusion.

"It might cause a commotion," 72 said, a ruthless glint in his eye, "but we need to start using more brutal means at this rate."

As if to punctuate his words, 72's fist began to glow orange again, this time with the intense heat of fire. Flames licked up his arm as he reared back, his gaze devoid of hesitation.

BOOM!

The impact sent a panicked civilian flying through the air. The unfortunate bystander hit the ground with a sickening thud, their chest bearing the imprint of a fist, scorched and smoking. They lay unresponsive as smoke curled upward from the point of impact.

"Make way! We are alchemists!" 72 shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade.

The crowd, already terrified, shrank back in horror, giving the two assassins a wide berth. People screamed and scrambled to get as far away as possible.

The scene immediately caught the attention of the enforcers nearby. Several of them, armed with batons and runic guns, began rushing toward the commotion, their shouts rising above the noise of the crowd.

Manasei, watching this unfold from the corner of his eye, felt his pulse quicken. This is it, he thought. This is the opportunity I needed.

With the crowd parting and the enforcers closing in, the dynamics of the chase were shifting, and Manasei intended to use it to his advantage.