“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Griffin protested aloud as he sprinted down the fifth bend in a row.
Behind him, three silhouettes rapidly flitted forward through the murky depths of the canal.
It had barely been ten minutes since he had dealt with the first Crackjaw. Griffin had believed or at least hoped that as long as he hugged the wall and didn’t try to stick out too much, he would be granted safe passage through the sewers and hopefully into the city.
He had been dead wrong and this time, what came searching for him was a targeted assault.
Why?
Well, in all honesty, that wasn’t exactly a challenging question to puzzle out. It seemed like the Crackjaws hadn’t taken too kindly to the dead compatriot Griffin had left behind, though the key lay in figuring out how.
Could fish smell what lay outside the water? Could Alligators? Griffin sure as hell didn’t know, but it seemed plausible enough when you threw in a bunch of magic into the mix.
Either way, the long and short of it was that they were pissed.
“Whoa!” He exclaimed in reaction to the burst of movement he detected to his right, his experience with the Crackjaw forewarning him to their propensity to bite.
He dove forward out of a desire for self-preservation, the movement reflexive at this point. His well-defined arms managed to weather the impact surprisingly well, allowing him to use the momentum to break out into an ungraceful roll.
Two events occurred in quick succession.
Behind him, a loud yet hollow thunk echoed out. Griffin would bet a good chunk of money that it was indeed, a Crackjaw that had barely missed out on taking his head off in a single bite, if he had the time to spare.
Instead, a blur of motion from his side almost caught him off-guard.
There was no time to position even his dagger this time around, so he defaulted to the most simple method to defend himself—- a punch.
His fist impacted against something that felt solid yet oddly textured, like a series of bumps and troughs. A spray of shattered teeth exploded outwards from the point of impact, as the Crackjaw went flopping back into the murky water.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
‘Did I really just punch an alligator in the fucking mouth?’
Unfortunately, Griffin didn’t have much time to deliberate on the absurdity of his own actions, as the third and final Crackjaw leapt out of the water.
“Oh no you don’t!” Griffin angrily snarled as he positioned his dagger above his head and brought it down in a flash.
A pool of green blood began to form near his half-crouched form, but his victory hadn’t come without cost.
A long scratch ran across his left thigh, likely inflicted by one of the Crackjaw’s protruding teeth.
Ignoring the pain the best he could through gritted teeth, he limped over towards the flopping crackjaw that had missed its landing. Inches away from re-entering the water, Griffin brought it deliverance.
----------------------------------------
“Senior Sister Jun,” A young martial artist wreathed in shadows addressed seemingly no one in particular.
“Yes, Junior Sister Shen?” The whispered response came from her left, though again, there seemed to be no apparent speaker.
“Are you seeing what I am seeing?” The young martial artist named Shen asked.
“What are you seeing?”
“A buck naked man slaughtering the little critters we are supposed to be responsible for,” Shen-Ya dryly explained.
“Indeed.”
“Can we kill him?” Shen-Ya asked, a wisp of anger leaking into her tone.
“Always so rash, Junior Sister Shen,” Jun-Ra replied, clearly unimpressed by the assessment. “Look at the dagger in his hands. That is not something a weakling should be capable of possessing.”
“Forgive my impudence, Senior Sister Jun. Now that I am looking at it…. Are you implying that he is from one of the major clans?”
“I have heard that young masters of prominent clans can have… odd proclivities. It is likely that he is someone important and stealing that dagger will come with consequences neither of us can afford. But, no— the terror on his face is genuine. I suspect that there is something deeper at play here.”
“Forgive me Senior Sister Jun, but I don’t understand. If he is from one of the major clans, why is he so weak?”
“There are many ways to gain levels, Junior Sister Shen. But have you ever thought of the opposite? Could there be ways to lose levels as well?”
A sharp intake of breath was the only response Shen-Ya could muster.
“I am not powerful or well-connected enough to know for sure. But there have been theories about Sin-Alignment classes that are capable of stealing experience and even levels.”
“Senior Sister Jun, if what you are implying is a possibility, then…. Should we not be running away? Surely someone capable of mastering such a malicious class is not someone us E-ranks can contend with?” Shen-Ya’s tone was tinged with a visceral fear that marked a major shift from her previously haughty tone.
“Foolish child,” Jun-Ra chided. “Is your calling not a Martial Artist? Do we cower when faced with the retribution of the laws of the world? Or do we consider how to use it to our advantage?”
“You mean…,”
“Even if we do kill him and seize the dagger, it would only be snatched away by us from one of the magistrate’s cronies. They might even kill us to keep it a secret. What value does power have if you cannot safeguard it? No, it is better for us to ingratiate ourselves to this young master while he is weak and see if we can use him to our advantage.”
“Senior Sister Jun, forgive me. Even in the face of adversity, as a martial artist it is paramount to seek opportunity. I lost myself in my fear.”
“Do not let it affect your emotions. My analysis is merely conjecture, after all. Let us introduce ourselves to this young master though, the current him is incapable of posing a threat to us. If he tries to attack us, then he along with that dagger shall be going in the bottom of the canal.”
“As you command, Senior Sister Jun.”