No matter how much we wanted it to, the world wouldn't stop.

Even if a loved one died, even if society broke down, even if the labyrinths were torn open and all their horrors unleashed, the world would march on and leave all those things behind. Not because it wanted to, but because that’s what it did. It was cruel because it didn’t care.

It couldn’t care.

And that's why I ran, every single day at the break of dawn. It wasn’t because I wanted to catch up to the world, but because I didn’t want to see what had been left behind me.

Cold wind whipped past, throwing my hood back. My mask kept the lower part of my face warm. My hands though, despite also being covered, were cold.

How cold were his?

I placed a boot over the man's hand. “What do you know about Kharss?”

“I don’t know who that is.” He looked down and fear flashed across his face. “Pull me up, please!”

The criminal’s long nose was crooked and bleeding. Sweat matted his hair and stained the white shirt underneath his ragged jacket. He clung to the ledge of the building, dangling three stories above ground. On any other night, half the city would’ve been asleep, and his screams would echo into nothing. However, the people clamoring about the academy's opening below took notice. One word passed between them as they looked up.

“Vigilante.”

“It’s the vigilante!”

I kicked his hand off, moving on to the other. A wave of startled voices floated up from the onlookers. “There's only two ways this'll end.”

There it was. It started from his eyes, growing as big as the moon. It crept to his mouth, cracking his lips and testing the strength of his skin. Fear. A primordial emotion took over him as he realized the weight of the words. “I don’t know," he pleaded as his grip loosened. "I’m going to fall!”

I kicked his hand free and he fell with a cry. The crowd gasped. The thread pulled tight and he stopped just short of the ground, the spellstring I tied to his waist saving him from shattering his body. I burned the spellstring and leaped to the next rooftop. It took only a moment to spot his patchy brown cloak among the mass of people. No one in particular seemed to care about his frantic behavior, the way he’d look over his shoulder, the desperation with which he moved, or how a mixture of blood and saliva ran down his mouth.

What should I call him? Patchwork?

No name was attached to his picture. Carlyle had tossed me the paper and told me I might be able to get a lead on Kharss if I found him. Knowing the guy, it might’ve just been busywork, or it could’ve been exactly what I was looking for. It didn’t matter though, Master promised Carlyle would help, and that’s all I needed to know.

Patchwork turned down an alleyway upon seeing a group of guardsmen. On the other side, one row of houses over, he dashed through a long line of horse-drawn carts. His sudden appearance startled one of the animals. A student, along with his servants and the coachman, rushed to calm the horse before all the possessions were thrown onto the beggar-filled street.

Beggars were usually forced away from the main road, but because Renard Academy opened tomorrow, all of the city guards were busy.

Patchwork glanced back, checking one more time to see if I managed to follow. A smirk broke out when he saw the distance and chaos he created. He’d been fast, surprisingly fast. Likely the fastest runner I’d met in the city. Too bad it wasn’t enough.

I focused on the house across the street. Its clay tiles weren’t the best for footing, none of the rooftops were that good if I was being honest, but it was the only one close enough. The heat of fire and the crackle of electricity both stirred inside me as my mana coursed. In the blink of an eye, I was above him again.

I was kind enough to give the guy a head start and he wasted it, throwing up his hood as if it made him any less suspicious while at the same time, slowing to a walk. Maybe it was actually a good choice. He wouldn’t have escaped anyway. A well-placed lightning bolt, a thrown knife, or some spellsting, there were a dozen ways I could’ve stopped him.

Three weeks of plucking every criminal I saw off the street didn’t get me a single step closer to Kharss. Aurora City was just too big. It was huge, actually, the second largest after the imperial capital. Today was my last chance. I needed him to lead me somewhere.

I tailed him as he strolled about for half an hour, zigging and zagging down streets and alleyways. For someone who had such a big grin when he thought he lost me, he sure was being cautious.

Eventually, he moved from the inner parts of the city to the outer half. Crossing a worn, arched stone bridge, Patchwork spit into the dying stream and entered a decrepit warehouse. I circled to the back where I gave the door a look over and decided to use my ability to ‘blink’, as I called it, through a shattered window instead. I appeared midair and looked down to blink again. It took a second for my vision and breathing to stabilize. Too many consecutive uses and I’d pass out. More than five in an hour and I’d be out of mana.

I crouched behind the dusty boxes, looking for a gap to peek through. They were filled with empty crystals, likely used up by the city to power the energy grid. The crystals themselves were either plucked from monsters, mined, or gained from shattered cores. Probably all of them came from Aurora Labyrinth, a world labyrinth. In a few more years they’d all dissolve.

Three men besides Patchwork were already in the room with a flickering lantern as their source of light. One held a bottle by its neck as he sat on a box, chugging it every other second. Another played with a dagger. “I told you not to drink so much,” he said as he flipped the weapon. “Especially when we’re working.”

Drunkard downed another portion. “I hear ya,” he said, fighting the slurring of his words. “This is my last bottle…” Despite his size and especially his gut’s, his voice was a pitch or two higher than expected. It was made further evident by the effort he put into finishing his sentences.

From the shadows, Patchwork emerged. He pulled back his hood, revealing greasy dark hair and a face full of unevenly cut stubble. He threw a sack next to the lantern with the distinct ring of coin. The last of the three men, one with a strange clawed gauntlet, jutted his chin. Drunkard scrambled for the bag and handed it to him.

“I’ve brought it. Now hurry up and take me out of here.”

Gauntlet inspected the bag and tossed a coin to the drunkard before handing it off to Daggers. His voice was deep and his tone slow. “Did you bring anything else for us?”

Patchwork frowned, “What? I brought the payment like you asked. What else do you want from me?”

“What about your friend?”

“I-I don’t know. He bailed. Wanted to stay in the city or something. Had a thing for one of the whores in The Velvet Suites. Isn’t this better for you anyway? One person to The Green City for the price of two.” Patchwork had stepped back from the lantern, trying to use the darkness to his advantage.

One of Gauntlet’s clawed fingers emitted a yellow glow. “No.” Gauntlet walked up to him. “I meant The Twelve. The cities’ dogs that chase garbage like you, and businessmen like me. I can tell from your… stink, that you weren’t being very honest. Few consider what I do an honest living, but do I deserve to be lied to?”

“N-No. No, of course not!” Patchwork tried to retreat, but Gauntlet placed his clawed hand on his shaking shoulder. Patchwork’s face twisted as the gauntlet tightened. “Come on. I already paid you the amount!” His upper body went rigid as he sank to his knees.

I slipped a knife into my hand.

“Which one is it? The First? Second? No, they’re too good for you. Was it the Fifth? He’s a real pain for me.” As he spoke, Patchwork’s face flushed, turning darker and darker shades of red. Gauntlet’s metal claws were stained with running blood.

“I-I don’t know!”

Gauntlet clasped his mouth shut. “Lower your voice will you? Your face is turning red. Think back to that person you were running away from. Think about what caused you to come here covered in sweat. What number showed on their shoulder guard?”

“Shoulder guard? He didn’t have anything like that.”

I aimed at Gauntlet’s leg. Was he going to kill him?

A moment passes after Patchwork’s answer. Gauntlet snorted, pushing the pathetic man onto the floor. “Whatever. Your payment’s been confirmed.”

Patchwork clutched at his face, ignoring or forgetting about his bleeding shoulder, as a series of relieved breaths followed.

“You’re gonna let him off like that, boss?” asked Daggers.

“No, I’m not. Go and give him his punishment for getting found out.”

“Wh-What?”

Daggers licked his lips as he approached.

“I’m going to take a piss,” said Gauntlet. He walked in front of Daggers for a split second as the man grabbed a cowering Patchwork.

I held the knife ready to throw at any moment. Once I heard that door close, I’d take both Daggers and Drunkard down before dealing with Gauntlet.

Daggers’ blade drew blood from Patchwork’s cheek and the man screamed. I waited. How long was it going to take for Gauntlet to get to the door?

The boxes exploded as a fist flew toward me. I raised my arm, barely catching the blow with one of my bracers.

“Surprise.”

----------------------------------------

“Wake up, Vigilante.”

A glowing gauntlet pressed against my neck, radiating an aura of biting cold.

Gauntlet pulled his hand away. “Even after getting caught off guard, you sure put up a fight.”

A spellstring enhanced rope tied me to one of the support beams. I tried calling a knife from my bracers but nothing came. I must’ve used them all. Gauntlet looked unhurt, but what about the others?

Drunkard, bruised and battered, grit his teeth as he pushed an unbroken crate over for Gauntlet to sit on. Daggers leaned against a half-chipped wooden pillar, grimacing as Patchwork wrapped up his shredded arm with his patchy cloak. In the wavering of the lantern’s fire, I saw my knives. Some stuck out of the stacks of boxes while others laid scattered on the floor.

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Shit.

“Why were you following our client? The Twelve are enough of a headache. We don’t need a… Thirteenth,” Gauntlet said, waving his hand in the air. He was leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees while his underlings glared at me.

I didn’t respond. I searched the dimensional storage in my bracers for any tools I might still have. I’d need it to escape.

“Instead of killing you or finding out your identity, I’m giving you a chance, despite what my subordinates want,” he said, patting Drunkard on the back and ignoring his pained expression. “Your streak in the city doesn’t seem related to bounties. So, why my client? Did he steal from a store? Rob a merchant in the street? Perhaps he murdered someone?”

I still didn’t answer. All I had left was a smoke bomb and a thread of spellstring. Mana was at a minimum too, just enough so I wouldn’t pass out or fall into mana exhaustion if I used my ability once. Blinking through the windows was out of the question. They were high up and I’d likely break something if I tried.

Gauntlet pushed Drunkard forward and I recalled the back door. It was chipped in multiple areas and covered in dust. I could use that.

“You don’t have to talk to me. You can ‘talk’ with him instead.”

The overweight man rubbed where he’d been patted then cracked his knuckles as he approached.

“How’d you know where I was hiding?” I asked, trying to buy time.

Gauntlet chuckled. “I don’t give that kind of info out for free. Tell me why you were chasing my client and I’ll consider.”

Maybe it was just the shadows, but I saw the slightest smile creep over his face. Was he this obvious, or was it something else?

“I’m looking for Kharss,” I answered honestly.

Drunkard hesitated and Daggers’ eyes went wide. Gauntlet snorted and shook his head. “You think that trash over there is Kharss?”

“No, I just needed him to lead me to someone like you.”

It was clear after he betrayed us that Kharss wasn’t a nobody. I knew not all the criminals running around in the city would know him, so I chose specific ones to ask and let Carlyle take care of the rest. So far, that got me nowhere. Maybe I should’ve been open like this from the start and let the bastard know I was looking for him.

“Well, at least you recognize someone of worth. Okay, I’ll tell you how I knew.” He lifted his gauntlet. One of the fingers was glowing green. “Chronomancy. A real useful field of magic. Lots of talented mages go into this one hoping to make a breakthrough. Hard to learn, but not so hard to steal.”

Of course. Now it makes sense.

How far back in time could the chronomancy send him? Ten, twenty seconds? From what Master told me, one of The Seven Archmages could go back as far as a minute. If his gauntlet stored magic, was it an artifact from the labyrinths?

That wasn’t important. What was important was figuring out how long had passed since he used chronomancy. Daggers was still getting treated, so maybe a minute at most there. The fight probably lasted a minute too. No doubt I was a little off, but the seven-minute gap of chronomancy was its greatest weakness.

“Knock him out. We’ll prep him for the auction and sell him off,” Gauntlet said.

As Drunkard approached, I gathered my mana and focused on the other end of the room. In an instant, I blinked free from the spellstring rope. Pushing off against the boxes, I braced my shoulder and let momentum carry me through, throwing open the decrepit door and leaving me sprawled.

“Get him!”

Gritting my teeth, I turned toward the sky and let loose a lightning bolt. Everything burned. The city lights dimmed and buildings distorted. Only the chilling breeze kept me from fainting.

Somehow, I managed to cross the rickety bridge before the first person even came out of the warehouse. Empty streets stretched on for blocks, their inhabitants clustered away by the main road, trying to maneuver around the guards and pick up coins from kindhearted students. It was both good and bad. There was no one to blend in with, but also no one to give me away.

I ducked into an alleyway, testing my nerves against the growing sound of their footsteps. Two ran past. Drunkard for sure, maybe Daggers as well. In my current state, I might’ve been able to take them on but I decided against it. If Gauntlet was around, his chronomancy would not only end whatever chances I had in a quick fight but also give my position away. The fact I hadn’t been found yet meant he wasn’t around, I didn’t choose to fight, seven minutes still hadn’t passed, or he couldn’t use it more than once.

It didn’t matter. The smartest move was to stay put. For all the guards knew, it could’ve been a lost student throwing that magic around. Part of it was true.

“Wait. I think I saw something back there,” Drunkard said.

They caught a glimpse of me as I barrelled onto the streets, running as fast as I thought I could get away with. Here and there more people appeared, a sign I was getting closer to the inner city.

“There!”

The two found me on a long narrow street. I fucked up. Either from carelessness or the pain and exhaustion, my pathing was off. They were gaining ever so slowly, but neither were in much better shape.

With one more detour and a second of time, I pulled a decaying sheet of wood that had broken off one of the buildings over me. I heard them come to a stop just feet away. I watched them through a small hole as they stared down three different roads.

“Should we go back?” Drunkard asked.

“And piss the boss off? If he found out he used a charge of chronomancy only for us to let the guy escape then we might as well kill ourselves now.”

They argued for a bit longer.

If I knew they were going to stand here and bicker, I would rather have run down one of the streets instead.

Still, it was valuable time they were giving me. Each second that passed where I wasn’t forced to run, was another second spent actively recovering my mana. I’d come dangerously close to mana exhaustion and if that happened, I’d be in a cage waiting to be sold to the highest bidder.

More footsteps came, lighter this time. A woman carrying a small pail of water appeared. When she saw the two men she spun around and hurried off.

“Stop,” Daggers said, sprinting and grabbing her arm. “Hey, Vigilante! If you don’t show up, then this lady’s going to get a dagger in her side.”

She screamed, dropping the bucket to punch Daggers. Drunkard grabbed her other arm and pushed her to her knees.

I really have shit luck.

I rolled out from my hiding place and felt a shock of pain as I threw my last smoke bomb. It missed its mark but landed close enough to obscure their vision. Drunkard stumbled forward, hands outstretched and coughing. I rammed into him, sending him tumbling before charging the two vague outlines.

Daggers pushed the woman away and I tripped over his leg. He leaped onto me, forcing his dagger down with all his weight. The blade inched closer to my chest.

"I thought you wanted me alive," I said through gritted teeth.

He coughed and the dagger shook. "Just one stab won't hurt."

Another cough. I held him back, waiting for the right moment. One breath and then a second. The third drew in enough smoke for him to cough. I used all my strength to shift the direction of the blade. It cut my gloved hand and chipped as it struck the ground. I bashed Daggers on the side of the head and took out the last of my spellstring, wrapping it around his neck as I positioned behind him.

“What do you know about Kharss?”

“I don’t know anything,” he said. His cheek bled from the blow.

I tightened the spellstring, holding the hooked piece at the end between my fingers. Even with all the smoke, his reddening face was visible. “I saw how you acted when you heard the name. Where is he?”

Daggers flailed for his weapon like a deer kicking even though a wolf had it by the neck. He jerked and jerked, sapping me of my strength while the thread bit into his skin.

“I just know his name!” Daggers croaked.

His breathing was shallow. As the smoke blew away, I saw his eyes rolling back. I loosened the spellstring. Daggers gasped, falling over as he clutched his neck. Thankfully, the woman ran away, leaving her bucket behind. Drunkard was curled into a ball. He shifted slightly in his defensive state and something slid out from under him, landing next to Daggers.

By the time I realized what it was, it was too late to let go of the spellstring. Daggers grabbed the purple crystal and his body sparked with electricity. With one hand already on the spellstring, he sent the borrowed magic through. I tried countering with my own, but my whole body convulsed as it struggled to send mana. When the electricity hit, my efforts vanished.

Maybe it was a good thing. Another use of magic and I’d have experienced the shakings and chills of mana exhaustion. I’d have to hope someone would save me from dying of exposure.

The crystal’s light died and so did the electricity. Before I could react, Drunkard swung and the world spun. Somehow, I was still conscious. I crawled to my feet, unsteady, as Drunkard helped Daggers stand.

They attacked.

I kept one of them between the other at all times. We traded weak, stumbling fists. In the corner of my vision, some inhabitants turned up to watch, thinking it was nothing but a brawl between alcohol-fueled men.

Everything blacked for a second.

I stood over them, my whole body aching worse than when I woke up in the warehouse.

“When is he gonna get here?” I mumbled. My hands were cold. The wind mercilessly assailed them like they hadn’t gone through enough punishment already. My gloves were still on, just barely. The cut glove needed to be stitched up, along with an order for more knives, and I’d have to bandage my hand.

My heartbeat quickened once I noticed it.

Stay calm. Don’t think about it. It wants you to think about it.

I held my cut hand away from view and searched for anything to wash off the blood that wasn’t mine. I spotted the bucket and gathered up whatever little water it had left to clean my hand. I did it over and over until the water was tinged a muddy red.

The memories faded, and I could breathe.

“Reinhard told me you’d be useful, Kid. I don’t see how someone who’s scared of blood is going to be of any use to me.” Carlyle threw a sack at me. Inside were my knives.

“It’s not ‘Kid’. The name’s Rainen, and I don’t know what Master told you, but I’m not scared of blood,” I said, wiping my hands dry. It took most my strength to stay standing.

“There’s blood on your cheek, Vigilante.”

I stared at him. “What about Gauntlet and Patchwork?”

Carlyle returned the gaze and shrugged. “They escaped. I don’t know who this ‘Patchwork’ of yours is unless you're talking about that drawing I gave you, but we’ve got an idea of who ‘Gauntlet’ is.”

“What can you tell me about him?”

“That’s classified.”

“When can I know?”

“Never. Your time’s up. Go to school like the good boy Reinhard wants you to be.”

“...”

Carlyle rounded up the two men. “I’ll take them with me. Should be able to get a few things out of them.” He looked at me as if waiting for a response. When I didn’t say anything, he sighed. “Reinhard told me our master wanted to talk to you. Did you meet him yet?”

Master’s master?

If I remembered right, that was the headmaster. He sent a few letters asking me to meet with him. I spent most of my days learning the city’s layout and spent my nights looking for criminals. I had no time for distractions.

“No, and I don’t plan to,” I replied.

He scoffed. “It doesn’t matter what you plan. You’ll meet him soon enough, and you’ll wish you did it sooner. So, are you going to honor Reinhard’s childish wishes or not?”

“I will. I promised him.”

“But you’re not going to give up, are you?”

I didn’t respond.

“Gods. Ten years dealing with your,” he rolled his eyes, “‘master’ and now he’s burdening me with you. Fine. I’ll give you a chance.”

I perked up at his last sentence. “So when should I meet you again?”

“That depends on you. Heard of Aurora’s world labyrinth? The academy takes its students there for practical training. I don’t care how or what you do to get it, but bring me a major core and I’ll give you a temporary role as our Thirteenth.”

Major cores sold for hundreds or even tens of thousands of gold depending on their condition. From the few door labyrinths I’d explored, the closest thing I saw to a core were crystals dropped by monsters. For a world labyrinth like Aurora, how would I even encounter one?

“The look on your face tells me you know how hard it is. If you can’t do it, then say so. I don’t have the time to waste waiting on a kid. You have three weeks. Get it by then or my offer’s off the table.”

“Fine.”

“Oh, I also don’t want to hear about a vigilante roaming the night while we’ve got this deal. I catch a whiff of you in that getup and you’re done.”

I nodded.

Carlyle scratched something down on a piece of paper and threw it to me. “Go to that address when you have the core. It’s on the west side.” With that, he hauled the wobbling men off.

I stored my knives back into my bracers. I’d have to check on their condition later, but first I needed to stop by the guild.

Most of the people who’d turned up to watch scattered when Carlyle appeared, so I was left alone as I trudged along, using the buildings to keep me upright. I had to stop a few times, the pain and nausea too much to handle.

The adventurer’s guild wasn’t the tallest building, but it often garnered the most attention. I stumbled inside, dodging past people going in and out and somehow maneuvering around its tables and chairs. I nearly collapsed at the frontmost desk. My elbows were the only thing holding me up. No one seemed to know who I was, but I could feel a few suspicious stares here and there.

The receptionist greeted me.

“I need a drain stone," I said.

For whatever reason, drain stones, the purple crystal that Daggers borrowed to use magic, couldn’t be put in dimensional storages. No crystals or cores could be stored that way.

I needed one so I could blink through the small gap I left in my dorm room window.

“Of course, Sir. First, I’ll need to see your identification tag.”

Ah, fuck. Bureaucracy.