Kiel raced through the shadowed alleys of the Narthic Quarter, Dot's hand gripped tightly in his own. His heart pounded, adrenaline surging through his veins as they fled the nightmare behind them.

Just get to safety. Worry about the rest later.

But even as the thought formed, a prickling unease crept up Kiel's spine. Something wasn't right. Kiel skidded to a halt, throwing out an arm to stop Dot. The boy stumbled, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"Wha-what is it? Why are we stopping?"

"Shh." Kiel held up a finger, his senses straining. There it was again - that faint flicker at the edge of his perception. A trace of mana.

[Sneak], he realized. Someone's using [Sneak].

His eyes narrowed as he swept his gaze over the darkened alley ahead. Narthic Quarter was known for its lawlessness, a haven for thieves, cutthroats and worse. Kiel rarely ventured into this part of Arkrest, and for good reason.

Looks like trouble found us anyway, he thought wryly.

"Dot," he said quietly, not taking his eyes off the shadows. "Get behind me. Now."

The boy obeyed without question, ducking behind Kiel's taller frame. Kiel could feel him trembling, his small hands fisting in the back of Kiel's tunic.

"I-is it her?" Dot whispered, his voice cracking. "The [Sacrificer]?"

"I don't think so," Kiel murmured back. "But someone's definitely up ahead. Trying to get the drop on us."

He reached out with his senses again, focusing his [Skill Sense]. The [Sneak] was still there, a slippery, elusive thing. He couldn't pin down the exact location.

Doesn't matter, he told himself firmly. Stay alert. Be ready for anything.

A scuff of sound, the scrabble of loose stone. Kiel tensed, his hand dropping to the potion vials at his belt.

Then a shape detached from the shadows, slouching into the dim moonlight. Kiel's breath caught.

It was a man...or at least, it had been once. Now it was a twisted, feral thing, more beast than human. Matted hair hung in lank ropes around a gaunt, snarling face. Yellowed eyes gleamed with a rabid light above lips drawn back from broken, jagged teeth. Ragged claws tipped the creature's splayed, grasping fingers.

"[Feral]..." Kiel breathed.

He'd heard of them, of course. Everyone in Arkrest had. The lost ones, those pour souls whose Classes had consumed them, turning them into mindless, ravening monsters.

It wasn't known exactly what caused a [Feral] Awakening. Scholars and theologians debated endlessly about the factors - upbringing and environment, character and innate potential. Some thought there was no rhyme or reason to it, that it was the whim of a capricious fate.

Load of manticore dung, that, Kiel thought derisively. His father had made sure he was well learned, he was the heir of the Wexler Family after all, he knew how the world worked. Those with power decided who rose and who fell, in the end. The high families in their gilded towers didn't spare much thought for the scum of the streets.

No, the slums of Arkrest birthed [Ferals] like a brood sow. The hopeless, the desperate, the discards and dregs...it was always their lot. But even among the outcasts, a [Feral] stood apart. They were the lost of the lost, too far gone to be called human anymore.

And now one of them was standing between Kiel and escape, its feverish eyes fixed on him with a terrible, yearning hunger.

Rare to see one above Level 1 or 2. From his aura, this brute's got some staying power.

"Kiel?" Dot whispered, pressing close to his back. "W-what's wrong with him? He doesn't...he doesn't look right..."

"He's a [Feral]," Kiel said calmly, never taking his gaze from the monster. "I need you to be brave for me, okay? Can you do that?"

He felt the boy nod against him.

"Good lad," Kiel murmured. "Now, I need you to stay behind me, no matter what. Don't run unless I tell you. Understood?"

Another nod, Dot's fingers digging into his back hard enough to bruise. Kiel took a slow, steady breath, his mind racing.

He'd tangled with street scum before, even the odd [Thug] or two. But a [Feral] was a different beast entirely. They were fast, strong, and utterly without fear or reason.

I can't just throw everything I've got at it, Kiel thought, calculating rapidly. His usual tricks - the smoke and sparks, the quick blade in the dark - they wouldn't cut it here. He needed to fight smart, fight ruthless.

He couldn't risk a drawn out battle. Not with a [Sacrificer] potentially bearing down on them, not with Dot to protect. He had to end this quick and brutal.

Right then. Potions first, to slow it down and mess up its senses. Then get in close with the dagger. Go for the kill, no hesitation.

It was a cold equation, colder than Kiel liked but nothing he hadn’t done before.

The [Feral]'s legs tensed, its shoulders bunching as it readied to lunge. Kiel saw the minute shift in its balance, the telltale ripple of mana.

"[Dash]!"

The word tore from that ruined throat, guttural and harsh. The [Feral] blurred, crossing the space between them in a blink.

Kiel hurled himself to the side, dragging Dot with him. "[Dodge]!"

He felt the wind of the [Feral]'s passing, the brush of its claws. Pain lanced along his ribs as those bony talons scored a line of fire across his side.

Fast, Kiel thought wildly. It's really fast!

He hit the ground in a controlled roll, coming up in a crouch with Dot tucked behind him. The boy was shaking like a leaf, his breath coming in panicked gasps.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

"Easy, lad," Kiel gritted out, his own heart hammering. "I've got you."

The [Feral] spun, a growl bubbling up from its sunken chest. Its eyes glowed with a mad, ravenous light as it fixated on Kiel.

A Level 5, at least, Kiel realized grimly. Maybe higher. This won't be easy.

His side burned, hot blood soaking his tunic. But it was a shallow cut. Painful, but not crippling.

Got to keep it focused on me, he thought desperately. If it goes for Dot...

He shoved the thought aside. He wouldn't let that happen. Couldn't.

"Come on then, you bastard," Kiel snarled, snatching a potion from his belt. "Let's dance."

The [Feral] shrieked, a sound like shattering glass, and charged again. Kiel threw the vial, aiming for the creature's feet.

The delicate crystal shattered on the cobbles, erupting in a cloud of choking green smoke. The [Disorientation Draft] wouldn't stop the [Feral], but it would throw off its senses, make it clumsy and confused.

Kiel waited a beat, then two, letting the vapor spread. Then he grabbed Dot's arm and ran, plunging into the roiling fog.

The [Feral]'s screech of rage pierced the murk, choked and distorted. Kiel imagined he could hear it staggering, blundering about in a daze.

That's right, you bastard. Breathe deep.

But he knew the reprieve wouldn't last. A high-level [Feral] would shed the delirium quite quickly, its monstrous vitality burning through the toxin. He had to press the advantage while he could.

"This way!" He dragged Dot down a narrow side alley, the boy stumbling after him on shaking legs.

Kiel's mind raced, sorting through his arsenal. The [Paralytic Potion] could buy them a few moments, if he could land a direct hit. The [Searing Solution] would be his coup de grace - even a [Feral] would be hard-pressed to shrug off the clinging, ravenous flames.

Got to get in close, though, he thought wildly. Can't risk throwing the [Searing Solution] from range.

A howl split the air behind them, rage and hunger and mad glee. The [Feral] had shaken off the worst of the disorientation.

Damn it all, that was faster than I hoped!

Kiel whipped around, shoving Dot behind a stack of rotting crates. "Stay down!" he snapped, his eyes fixed on the mouth of the alley.

Dot made a small, terrified sound of assent, curling into a tight ball.

Now that I don’t have to worry about him, I can focus, Kiel thought as he turned around.

Then the [Feral] was there, barreling down the narrow passage in a whirlwind of claws and teeth.

Kiel met its charge with a roar of his own. He ducked low, slipping under the creature's wild swing, and slammed a knife-hand strike into its throat.

Or tried to. Faster than thought, faster than should be possible, the [Feral] twisted aside. Kiel's blow glanced off its shoulder, sending a jolt of numbing force up his arm.

What the hells?! No way its [Dodge] should be that high!

But he couldn't falter. Spinning with the momentum of his miss, Kiel lashed out with a side kick, aiming for the [Feral]'s knee. If he could cripple its mobility...

Again, that supernatural speed. The creature hopped back, Kiel's boot swishing through empty air. Its slash of counter-attack took him across the chest, parting cloth and skin in a shallow, stinging line.

Kiel snarled, dancing away. His breath came hard and fast, his heart slamming against his ribs.

I can't beat it like this, he realized, cold dread clutching his gut. It's too fast, too strong. I've got to even the odds, or...

His gaze flicked to Dot's hiding place. The boy was watching the fight with huge, terrified eyes, his small hands clasped over his mouth.

Kiel gathered himself with a shuddering breath. He wouldn't fail. He refused. Dot was counting on him.

The [Feral] hunched low, a predator's crouch. Its eyes glittered with a terrible, gloating triumph, as if it could taste Kiel's desperation.

That's right, you bastard. Gloat. Gloat and watch my hands.

Slowly, subtly, Kiel reached for his potions. Just one more step...one more lunge...

"[Pierce]!" The skill-word cracked from the [Feral]'s throat, and it blurred into motion, claws extended.

The tearing impact slammed Kiel back into the alley wall, blasting the breath from his lungs. White-hot agony seared through his shoulder as those jagged talons punched into his flesh, scraping bone.

"KIEL!" Dot's scream cut through the red haze of pain, high and desperate.

Kiel couldn't answer. The [Feral]'s hot breath gusted over his face, its lips peeled back in a mad, triumphant grin.

Stupid, Kiel thought distantly, staring into those rabid eyes. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I underestimated it. And now...

Now he was pinned, impaled on the [Feral]'s claws like a bug in a collection. His shoulder burned, a white-hot coal of agony. He could feel blood sheeting down his arm, his side. Too much blood.

The [Feral] leaned in, its rotten breath washing over him. It inhaled deeply, as if savoring his pain and fear.

"Soft..." it rasped, its voice a grating, inhuman rattle. "Weak...meat..."

It drew back slightly, angling its head as if to rip out Kiel's throat with its teeth.

"[Command]!" The skill burst from Kiel’s lips, wild and desperate. "STOP!"

A pulse of mana, a throb of irresistible compulsion. For an instant, the [Feral] froze, its muscles locking up. Its eyes went wide, more shocked than cowed.

Kiel didn't hesitate. He knew the Level 4 [Command] skill wouldn’t last more than a few moments against a Level 5 creature, even if it was one with a weak mind. His blood-slick fingers closed around a potion vial, and he slammed it into the side of the [Feral]'s neck. The delicate crystal shattered, and the creature howled as the [Paralytic Potion] splashed over its skin.

Its claws ripped free of Kiel's shoulder as it staggered back, its limbs jerking and twitching. Kiel slumped against the wall, gasping in great, shuddering breaths.

I'm alive. I'm still alive.

But not for long. Already the [Feral] was fighting the paralysis, its monstrous vitality struggling against the chemical chains. Kiel could see its muscles jumping and shivering beneath its skin, its teeth bared in a snarl.

It's now or never. While it's still weak. While I still can.

Kiel pushed himself upright with a titanic effort, his mangled shoulder screaming. His vision swam, black spots crowding in, but he blinked them back savagely.

"Dot..." he croaked. "Dot, close your eyes."

He didn't wait to see if the boy obeyed. Staggering forward, he snatched the [Searing Solution] from his belt and cracked the vial across the [Feral]'s snarling face.

The alchemical fire ignited on contact, bathing the creature in liquid flame. It shrieked, an awful, agonized sound, clawing at its burning flesh.

The stench was indescribable. Charred meat and burning hair, the acrid tang of alchemical accelerant. The [Feral]'s screams died to guttural, liquid gurgles. Then to nothing at all, just the crackle of hungry flame.

"K-Kiel...?"

Dot's voice, small and scared. Kiel turned to him, swaying. The boy was pressed against the alley wall, his eyes huge in his pale face. The boy had seen a lot growing up in the slums, but this was different.

"It's okay," Kiel rasped. Talking hurt, the words like blades in his raw throat. "It's over. We're safe now."

Dot nodded jerkily, his gaze straying to Kiel's shoulder. To the dark, spreading stain soaking his tunic. "Y-you're hurt..."

Kiel glanced down at the jagged wound, the blood sheeting down his arm. He couldn't afford to pass out, not now. "[Battlefield Triage]," he muttered, calling upon the meager skill. A flare of green-gold light wreathed his torn flesh, slowing the bleeding, knitting the ragged edges together. It wasn't a true healing, but it would keep him on his feet. Keep him moving. When they have a moment to breathe, he'd use one of his other low-level healing skills to patch himself up properly. But in the heat of the moment, they were too slow, too weak to rely on.

"Just a scratch." Kiel tried for a smile. It felt ghastly on his face, a rictus stretching his lips. "I've had worse."

“B-but it looks —"

“Let’s go!" Kiel interrupted, half-dragging the shell-shocked boy along. "We have to get out of here!"

Dot stumbled, struggling to keep up with Kiel's longer strides. Kiel could still feel the weakness of blood loss dragging at him, the [Battlefield Triage] a mere stopgap at his low level. But it would have to be enough.

Kiel risked a glance back over his shoulder, half-expecting to see the [Sacrificer] striding from the dark, death and madness in her eyes. But the alley was empty. For now.

She won't be far behind. If she beat the [Inquisitors]...I don't want to think about it.

Kiel forced himself to breathe, to focus past the pain searing his face, his shoulder. One problem at a time. First, get to safety. Then worry about explaining...

Explaining what? That I'm not just a simple [Pharmacist]? That I've got skills no apprentice should? That I'm a Light-forsaken heretic myself?

Questions for later. When they weren't running for their lives. When they had time to breathe, to think past the next desperate minute. Kiel tightened his grip on Dot's hand, pulling the boy along as the Narthic Quarter's ruin-shadowed maze swallowed them whole.

Just hold on, kid. I'll get us through this.