Inside was a large backyard. It was surrounded on three sides by densely packed buildings. There were no windows on the first floors, and all the doors were closed. Inside the courtyard there was semi-darkness, even the roofs of the buildings were not illuminated by the evening sun, but the still bright sky provided enough light to see normally.

To Mike's surprise, the thief no longer tried to run away. On the contrary, he was facing Mike and smiling, and he was not alone. Next to him were four others in cloaks, all big, armed to the teeth, and two of them in the uniform of the city guard.

Mike knew at once that this was a trap, laid most likely against him, but he would still try to get out of it.

"I'm Mike de Graaf, Major of the Ministry of Foreign Intelligence," he addressed the two guards.

"I am in pursuit of a thief," he pointed with his hand. "I demand your intervention and his arrest."

The two guards looked at each other and looked at Mike.

"Mister, I don't know which one of you is the thief," one of them said to Mike. "That's why you're coming with us to the department to sort it out."

"No, you don't understand," Mike began to say.

"Mister," the other interrupted him. "Disobedience to a guard is punishable by imprisonment for two days or more with a daily fee of one gold for each day."

Mike was about to say something else, but he was interrupted again.

"Face to the ground, hands behind your back," said the first and drew his one-handed sword. "Now!"

The second guard and one of those present also drew their swords. Another pulled out a mechanical revolver. Mike managed to notice that he had plate armor under his cloak. At the same time, the thief stepped back a little. He was visibly unarmed, but he didn't try to escape.

All four of them spread out in a semicircle in front of Mike. The guards stood on the edges, the other two in the center. The one with the revolver stood a little farther away, letting the three with the bladed weapons going forward.

The gate was still open and Mike had a chance to retreat, only he considered it risky. There was no telling what level of magic the attackers possessed. There was a pretty good chance that his shield would not withstand the spell, and the revolver posed a serious danger.

A siren sounded in the distance. That was the signal to act.

"We need him alive," the thief reminded those present. Hearing this, the two guards grimaced but took their first steps forward.

Mike was unarmed, but that made little difference to him. Both his hands were free, and he decided to take advantage of it. He chose one of the guards on his right side as his first target. Mike weaved two spells simultaneously, one in each hand. In his left hand the usual "flash" of light magic, and in his right hand the "beam of light".

He first launched the "flash" at the attackers on his left side and jumped sharply to his right side and closed his eyes for a second and turned his head away for the duration of its effect. The others tried to react by closing their eyes in time to avoid going blind, but they were still a split second too late. Even that split second was enough to blind them for a few seconds.

Taking advantage of their confusion, Mike moved closer to his target. When the guardian opened his eyes, Mike immediately applied a "beam of light. This "beam of light" was slightly modified by Mike - the range was reduced and the thickness of the beam was greatly reduced. This allowed for a significant increase in power. The modified "beam of light" burned through the cloth with ease.

Mike pointed his hand and a "beam of light" directly into the guard's open eye. Half a second of exposure, half of which was a direct hit to the pupil of the eye.

"Aah," the guard screamed, dropping his sword and grabbing his face with his hands. Not deadly, but he would lose his eye forever, assuming no new eye was transplanted.

"Aah," he continued to scream. Blood spurted from the damaged eye onto his hands. By this point, Mike was nearby and picked up his dropped sword. Without thinking twice, he stabbed it into the guard's neck. It wasn't fatal, but it grazed an artery. The guard let out a groan and fell on his side.

The thief had by now weaved an "air blade" spell, just like the one Mike had used. And exactly the same way he used them to attack Mike's legs. The "air blade" hit the shield Mike had set up in time and was completely absorbed.

"Shoot him. What are you waiting for?" shouted the thief.

But no shots were fired. Near Mike was already one of his attackers with a sword. Mike parried the attack with his sword and tried to make a leg sweep. It didn't work. Instead, he spun around his attacker and simultaneously weaved a "quick legs" spell, and rushed at the attacker with a revolver.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Shots rang out. He managed to get five shots fired, but the newly set shield to absorb the physical impact absorbed three shots, and two more went past, one of which hit the already lying and bleeding guard.

A new "air blade" whizzed by behind Mike's back. They didn't hit him. He was approaching the man with the revolver at breakneck speed. The man panicked and forgot to set up his shield if he had one. Mike took advantage of that. He grabbed him, slowed down, and spun him around, shielding himself from the others. Then he thrust his sword through his throat and into his brain. Moments later, two lifeless eyes stared directly at him.

The light of hope for a successful outcome of the battle flickered before Mike. He tried to pull the sword back from the already falling body, but he was unsuccessful. The two with the swords were already close by, but in no rush to attack.

The thief by this time was near the fallen guard and was trying with some artifact to cure the wound on his neck, from which blood was gushing and an impressive puddle had already formed under the body. The gunshot wound was in his leg and was probably dangerous as well, as blood dripped from his pant leg onto the ground, a major blood vessel being grazed.

Mike gave up trying to pull the sword out and let go of its hilt. There was still a revolver next to the body, but it was pretty far away. Mike took a quick look at the revolver. He recognized its model and, unfortunately for him, it had six bullets. So, there was only one bullet left in it.

Mike looked at the two attackers standing in front of him. While the thief was busy with the wounded man Mike decided to repeat the beginning of the battle and weaved again two spells in his left hand "flash", in his right hand "beam of light". Before he could use them, he felt a surge of magical energy from one of his attackers, and then a spell began to form underneath him. Mike quickly jumped aside throwing a flash in the face of one of his attackers and turned his head to the side. Thin stone spikes rushed upward from the ground beneath where he had just been. That's what the spell was called, "stone spikes". Up to a dozen sharp spikes, up to half a meter high, sprouted on a meter-sized spot. One of the outermost spikes grazed Mike's foot, piercing his shoe as he jumped aside.

He grimaced in pain as he landed after the jump, but at least his bone was unharmed. " Flash" blinded the second guard, but it did not affect the other one. And he was already striking, aiming for Mike's shoulder. Mike tried to dodge; he didn't have time to put up his shield. And he partially succeeded. The sword only slashed into his shoulder, not through it.

From an awkward position, he aimed his still-active "beam of light" at his attacker. The man tried to dodge. It didn't hit his eye but left a deep burn mark on his cheek.

Mike broke the distance between them by jumping back a few meters. The thief gave up the idea of treating the first guard and was on his way to them. Mike's back was to the exit of the yard at this point.

After activating his anti-magic shield, he decided to try his luck and leave the backyard. Mike was beginning to weave a "quick feet" spell when he sensed an unfamiliar presence next to him from the exit. He started to turn his head and out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a mace approaching. He didn't have time to dodge it. The blow hit Mike directly on the temple and was so powerful that it tossed him aside.

Mike fell to the ground unconscious, and from the shadows that the surrounding buildings created, the mace's owner, a young guy with dark skin, appeared behind it.

"What the hell are you demons doing?"

Everyone present stopped as if they were in a stupor.

"I gave you all the information on him," Paul started yelling at them. "How did you manage to lose two men with your own weapons? He was unarmed!"

Paul put his mace on his belt, and then he looked around at those present.

"Thornton," he turned to the remaining guard. "Quickly put the bracelets on him."

The man quickly put away his sword and removed the bracelets from his belt. He rolled Mike over onto his stomach, put the hands behind the back, and cuffed the bracelets on them. Then another anti-magical collar closed around his neck.

"Awl," Paul turned to the thief. "Quickly see if he's not dead."

Awl quickly ran over to Mike pulled out his artifact and leaned over the body.

"Alive. Unconscious. And will be for quite some time. The blow was hard."

"All right," Paul said. "Search his pockets."

The only things in Mike's pockets turned out to be his identification card and his pass. Paul took them away. The thief wanted to take the ring off his finger, too, but Paul stopped him.

"Leave it, you don't have to take it off."

"Why?" wondered Awl.

"Did you examine his purse?" asked Paul.

"No," replied the man.

"Well, look it over, what are you waiting for."

Awl opened the purse and counted the contents.

"Almost twenty-two in gold."

Someone nearby whistled approvingly.

"Don't you have enough?" asked Paul, then turned to Thornton.

"Take him," he pointed at Mike. "And get back to the place. There's no telling how long Diana will be able to hold yours there."

"What about my partner?"

"What about him?" wondered Paul. " Afterwards, you and the others come back here. You chased the thief, chased him here. A fight started. Your partner died a brave death. The others weren't there. Is that clear to everyone?"

"I see," Thornton replied, then leaned over and carried Mike's body on his shoulder.

"Don't forget the handbag," he reminded him. "Quick, let's finish up here and go separate."

When Thornton walked back to the Jolly Oyster Cafe, the patrol guards were already there recording the victim lady's statement.

The lady, seeing Thornton with the body over his shoulder and her handbag, ran up to him and grabbed her handbag.

"My handbag," she rejoiced. "You got it back."

Then she turned to the guards who had followed. And Thornton laid the body on the sidewalk and started kneading the stiff shoulder.

"There he is," she pointed to Mike's body. "He stole my handbag."

"Are you sure?" one of the guards asked her, a captain, judging by his insignia.

"Absolutely," she assured him firmly. "Same face, same light skin color, and same clothes. It is him."

"Then register him," he said to the guard beside him and looked at Thornton. "Are you alone? Where's your partner?"

"Dead, Captain."

"What?" the man didn't understand the answer.

"That bitch killed him," Thornton said and then kicked Mike's body lying on the sidewalk.