After he reached the inn, the sky was tinted with a dark blue hue, not quite dark yet but getting there. He sat on one of the benches in the park and observed from a distance. However, he quickly noticed that his presence was too conspicuous in the park. All of the nearby moms were giving him wary looks, afraid he might do something to their innocently playing children.

'Shit.' He thought, knowing he had to move once again just after he had just sat down, which would make him look even more suspicious. But, he had to, and he did. He pivoted back to the entrance of one of the alleyways that still gave a view of the inn and kept watch.

'How could they be so fast??' He thought both confused and vexed, as he hatefully clicked his tongue in annoyance. He realized that maybe on some subconscious level, the absence of technology which he deeply associated with information and intelligence, made him underestimate the efficiency of this world. He figured no one would care about the absence of four people. But apparently, a lot of people did.

'And that fucking news reporter.' Remembering how he was written about in that news article, he gnashed his teeth in hatred as he forcefully hit the wall he was leaning on with the side of his fist. They had even drawn a perfect picture of their shack, and he couldn't lie to himself, it was the creepiest sight he had ever seen.

However, when the group was in the midst of cutting up those bodies, they didn't think about such details too much, and they just prioritized efficiency. Even, the most ominous detail about that drawing which was the four surrounding heads, there was no deep malicious or sadistic reason behind it. They just wanted the heads that were dripping with blood to stay in the enclosed circle they had created.

The calm sight before him managed to slightly calm him down, and so he deeply, weakly, sighed to himself thinking, 'What now?'

It wasn't the first time he asked himself that particular question in the last hour or so, but it was the first time he did so with a more collected state of mind. That was precisely what allowed him to perceive the complexity of this issue. Not from an outward perspective, but more so an inward one.

In other words, he felt complicated when it came to the topic of the group of boys. He observed a contradiction within himself that was gradually permeating other aspects of his life, making them even more difficult.

On the one hand, he didn't want to become too entangled with them as they always approached him with the dead Jacob in mind, and Melvin wanted to be seen as well and not just remain hidden under a complicated web of lies that made his life unnecessarily complicated.

And on the other, he felt somewhat responsible for the boys. It was both a combination of them saving him from death and that they were relatively kids in his eyes and he took pity on them.

Now that he learned that his problems became a hundredfold worse, he knew that living with such a glaring contradictive flaw that obstructed both his perception and behavior would only bring him to death quicker.

'Time to rip that bandage off.' He resolutely thought after standing up, he didn't even remember when he sat leaning against the wall, but he did. His eyes fixed on the Inn scrutinizing every little detail, and after a while of not noticing anything peculiar, he began approaching it.

Moving along the Park, the mothers eyed him once again, but he was too nervous to pay much attention to them. With his left hand nervously clutching on the hems of his cloak. His right hand reflexively reached for the dagger by his waistband, and feeling the strength coursing through him, he felt slightly at ease.

Reaching the sidewalk in front of the inn's entrance, his steps paused. He took a very deep breath, and slightly tilted his body to the side. He moved from one side to the next, trying to peek through the door, and maybe notice something, but he didn't see anything that stood out.

Gritting his teeth, he stepped foot inside and walked very slowly. When he turned his head to the right, he noticed something normal, but also odd.

Almost all of the tables where the patrons ate were filled, but he knew that dinner was served at 10 PM, and there were still two hours before that. The other, and most striking observation was the ages of those sitting there. They were all men and women wearing regular clothing that seemed to be around the ages of twenty to thirty.

The fact that there was no old nor young person among them gave him a bad feeling. His eyes quickly darted toward the innkeeper, and witnessing her expression, he was certain something suspicious was going on.

The previously aloof and impassive lady now seemed slightly tense, and trying to appear normal. The moment she flashed a weak smile in his direction, he bolted for the door.

"Jacob, STOP!" A commanding voice behind him roared, and the moment it resounded through the hall, a synchronized sound of creaking chairs sounded.

However, Melvin's heartbeat had already shot through the roof as a vast amount of adrenaline coursed through his body. His right hand still latched to his side in an attempt to increase his speed by accessing the dagger's rune, he sprinted.

The split second that he turned back, he felt a tremendous force collide with his left shoulder, slowing down his speed considerablly before an intense pain jolted through his brain. His eyes widened in shock at the realization that another arrow was coming straight for his head, 'Are they trying to kill me?' He thought in fear.

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That thought, only solidified both his savagery and conviction as he continued running. He knew that dozens of people were following after him, and there was no way in hell he would he just surrender. A random fact he had learned along his walks flashed through his brain, in the Nocevia Dynasty, Nightmond City was famous for something else other than its seaside industry. The vicious Abyss Chains Prison is situated on the island next to it.

Just as Melvin's legs were about to step out of the Inn's door, something happened that woke him up from his pointless thoughts. A rough sturdy hand clenched into a fist until its knuckles turned white, landed on his face with absolute vengeance.

The force from the punch halted his steps. His body retreated backward a step or two, but he didn't fall. Realizing the approaching danger from behind, Melvin's eyes glinted with a dangerous light. With a dagger in hand, he lunged at the bearded guard in normal clothing in front of him with his broken nose bleeding like an opened wine tap barrel.

As another punch cut through the air flying in his direction, he swiftly pushed it aside with his left hand, and using his right hand that held the dagger, he sliced through the man's hand like he was trying to peel a carrot.

Before the man could even scream in pain, Melvin's right leg made a whooshing sound before it quietened down meeting the man's ribcage. With a mind perfectly focused on every tiny detail, his head slightly moved to the side, dodging another arrow.

He tilted his torso forward and with his left leg, he kicked the closest guard behind him in the chest, before he got out of the door and ran toward the alleyway he had been observing from previously with his top speed.

From the door, a seemingly unending train of guards emerged one after the other, following behind him.

Melvin's ears couldn't hear anything by the thumping of his heart, and his legs furiously stomping on the ground as he ran with everything that he had. Saliva felt sharp in his throat, and he spit it out without even turning his head to the side, he just sent it in front of him, and because of his speed, he quickly reached it and it landed on the right side of his cloak. However, this was the last thing on his mind, he could distinctly feel several people slowly gaining on him.

He quickly reached the end of the alley and emerged into another bustling street. He knew that the night market was was more busy than its counterpart, and so looking at the sea of people, stalls, carts, and street vendors, he just whispered a weak, "Sorry" to no one in particular and dashed in their direction.

With adrenaline pumping through his veins, he darted through the crowded marketplace, knocking over stalls and sending people sprawling in his wake.

The aroma of exotic spices and the cacophony of vendors' shouts of fear, rage, and unwillingness filled the air. With each stride, he knocked over wooden stalls laden with colorful wares, sending fruits and trinkets scattering across the brick paved road.

People cried out in surprise and anger as they stumbled in his wake, their voices blending with the panicked bleating of the startled sheep in a makeshift stable that sold livestock in front of him.

In his frantic flight, he leaped over crates and barrels, his heart pounding in his chest. When he reached the short fence of the stable, he jumped. The startled sheep bleated loudly and fled in every direction as he dashed through.

Quickly jumping out of the the other end of the stable he turned to the left corner onto a new street, he glanced back over his shoulder, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The guards were still in pursuit, their determined expressions illuminated by the flickering torchlight of some of the stalls. With even more determination, he pushed himself forward, his muscles burning with exertion as his upper lip was slightly swollen and painted red, his nose still heavily bleeding.

With his most profound speed, summoning every fiber of prowess from his 24 of Agility, he reached the end of the street, and took another turn right, entering a new alley. However, the sight of the houses ahead made his heart sink. Panic rising, he scanned the surrounding area for an escape route, but there was nothing. Briskly turning around to change paths, he caught the sight of his pursuers closing his only exist, and he found himself trapped.

There were two men and a woman, quickly approaching him with careful steps. Melvin's sight was locked into them, but he wasn't even thinking about them. His gears were turning thinking of ways to salvage this situation, he knew that fighting would be foolish with dozens of guards gradually approaching.

In his periphery, he caught sight of a dark blue wooden door that seemed somewhat worn out, and his eyes lit up.

His eyes flicked upwards, silently pleading for an open-roofed house. It was a distinction he'd often observed on his walks: roofs came in two varieties. Some were closed, adorned with tiles and chimneys, while others were open, resembling rooftops with no cover.

Fortunately, this house was of the second category, much to his relief.

With a surge of desperate hope, he veered toward the weathered blue door, his pounding heart driving him forward. With a swift kick, he sent the door flying open, the hinges broke off sending wooden splinters flying.

Without hesitation, he darted inside, a thin passageway stretched before him where he could see some faint light before a young boy rushed to check the noise, but by then Melvin had already raced through the stairwell to his left, climbing upward as his footsteps frantically echoed.

As he ascended, his muscles burning with exertion, he glimpsed a tiny sliver of moonlight filtering through a small window at the top of the stairs. With renewed determination, he burst onto the rooftop, the cool night air immediately made him feel better.

But his relief was short-lived as he saw the guards emerge from the doorway below, their determined forms silhouetted against the faint glow of the streetlights as they began chasing after him. With no time to spare, he dashed across the open rooftop into the next, his footsteps echoing against the tiled surface.

With each leap and bound, he put more distance between himself and his pursuers, his adrenaline-fueled movements carrying him ever onward. The cityscape stretched out before him, a labyrinth of rooftops and alleyways illuminated by the faint soft glow of the moon.

With every rooftop he traversed, the guards fell farther behind, their shouts fading into the night. But he knew he couldn't stop until he was well clear of their reach, his only chance at freedom lying ahead in the maze of streets and shadows below.

In both his fear and haste, he vaulted over another chest-high roof. But instead of landing on solid ground, he found himself falling downward.

As he plummeted through what he immediately recognized to be a lightwell, time slowed into a crawl, revealing several storeys of the house unfurling before him. Each floor exposed its vacant chambers, punctuated by his rapid descent, the silence that was interrupted by his presence.

With his heart lodged in his throat, feeling death looming near, Melvin crashed onto his back with a deafening sound as wooden splinters scattered around him. His vision blurred as he glimpsed a square of starry night sky framed by towering walls, his body teetering precariously on the brink of something unseen. Then, agony overwhelmed him, and consciousness slipped away.