The coward who had tried to run from the battle was fast. Which made sense, Lucy supposed. What good was there in being a slow coward? You had to be fast.

And he was, even with the weakling boy on his shoulders. She followed him to the nearest door, feeling her lungs burning for air, as he skipped over turned-over tables and broken chairs. Without her sigil, Lucy feared to admit, she was just as slow as any other fifteen-year-old around. The man reached the door first, slamming it with his shoulder, making the boy, who was still bleeding from his mouth, downright yelp.

Outside, there was still a commotion. Lucy had expected there to be one. People - even when terrified out of their pants - could hardly ever run from a good show. They were hanging around, waiting to see who would come out alive: the scholar boy or the mercenary.

They probably weren't expecting it to be the boy on the shoulders of another guy and vomiting a river of red.

Lucy lost her footing as soon as they reached the cobblestone, falling on her elbows. Before the cowardly man could even turn around to check on her, she was on her feet again, scrapping her knees on the stone, but running still.

The fall took precious seconds from her. As she got to her wobbly feet, she heard the sound of that Walking Armour approaching, heavy footsteps seemingly just behind her. Shit. She was running as fast as she could, but she wouldn't--

The steps were so close now it made the ground shake under her feet. The people finally got a clue and started running, sensing whatever was about to happen was much worse than a tavern brawl. She tried to hold in her breath and burn ether, but she could hardly do it on a good day.

She wasn't a sorcerer. Didn't have the luck for that. And she certainly wasn't a scholar. Lacked the brains for that. Her ether wasn't a magical cloak enveloping her. It was just like every other mortal - woven into her flesh, holding it together. Most people could burn a little bit of it for a second, to perform an outrageous feat of strength (she'd heard plenty of stories about mothers lifting entire carriages off the floor to save their children), but it hurt. Like fucking hell.

She could feel the hot tears burning at the edge of her eyes, almost sizzling. A heavy hand nested itself atop her head and pulled, and she knew it was either kill or be killed. She closed her eyes, and, inside her mind, chanted:

Breakthrough. Split the armor. Carve the fles--

Her blood burnt inside her veins for an entire second before someone wrapped an arm around her torso, beneath her arms, and pulled her up. The hand still grasping her head resisted so forcefully that, when she finally broke free, Lucy could practically feel the spots where her hair had been ripped off her scalp.

She found herself face to face with the rich boy. He was still thrown over the shoulders of the coward but had managed to pull her with one arm around her midsection. Which kind of meant the coward was holding the weight of both of them. Now, closer, and seeing clearly, she could see there was blood running from the back of the scholar boy's head, drenching his hair, and spilling from his hairline to the rest of his face.

There was a barely contained wilderness to his eyes.

The coward took off running.

Lucy would love to say it was a smooth sailing away from danger, but it was from it. The rich kid had barely enough strength to hold her, so, as the coward ran, her feet scrapped against the cobblestone painfully.

"Hey! Watch it!".

"Sorry, would you rather I dropped you?";

"Hey, dead weights!" called the coward. "Shut up!".

They reached the plaza. The coward almost stumbled over the fountain but managed to get a hold of himself just in time. He dropped both of them to the ground, like ripe fruit, and Lucy actually hurt her hip on the fall.

Onlookers surrounded them, whispering among themselves.

"Alright, I think that was enough to--".

Clanking. Heavy steps were still approaching.

"Are you KIDDING me!".

"He's certainly insistent," said the rich boy, as the people made way for the Walking Armor. He then turned to Lucy. "Are you still working for me?".

"Are you still paying me?".

He frowned, but there was a glint of surprised admiration in his eyes. "Didn't take you for a mercenary".

"I'm not. Just need the money".

"Can you do that again?" He asked as the Armor came ever closer, unstopping. "That horrible thing you did back them?".

Lucy felt her throat dry. Before she could speak, the coward knelt beside them, closer than she expected him to. "She's a vessel, you idiot".

The rich boy blinked, confused, and then: "Oh, gods," he turned back to her, terrified. "Why would you even risk that back there?".

Lucy shrugged, uncomfortable with the amount of information the two seemingly had about her. Or, at least, the nature of her. "Needed the money".

The coward went back to his feet, facing the approaching threat. Lucy had seen him fight the mercenary before he'd decided to walk out. She knew he was no weakling. He moved like someone who had been trained for it, so unlike her own fighting style (if one could even call it that). It'd be hard to land a strike on him, but...

The Armor was closer now. Lucy quite literally couldn't see any openings on that monster.

"Don't look so distraught. Roman is exceptionally strong".

Judging by the way his hands were trembling, Lucy guessed Roman was exceptionally scared shitless, too.

When the Armor was but a few steps from them, a sigil shone on the ground beneath their feet, covering the plaza's entire floor. She saw the rich kid's eyes gleam with joy, like a child.

A voice boomed from the golden sigil, resonating inside the heads of everyone present.

"ATTENTION! WE HAVE RECEIVED A COMPLAINT ABOUT EXARCEBATED VIOLENT ACTS COMMITTED AROUND THE HABOR PLAZA AND ARE THEREFORE UPHOLDING THE USAGE OF ANY AND ALL MAGIC ITEMS, INCLUDING--".

Lucy's body let out a sigh, but he mind didn't feel relieved in the slightest. The Armor had stopped walking, but it still... creaked?

Prey, snarled her mind. Little sitting prey.

She didn't have the time to warn them. And, even if she'd had it, what could she possibly say? I can hear his fucked up voice inside my mind? Yeah, that sounded really trustworthy.

So, because she couldn't trust her words, she simply lunged forward, colliding with Roman's back and pulling the rich kid by the sleeve of his tunic.

White searing light erupted from somewhere right in front of them, and, even with her eyes closed, she could feel it burning her eyelids. She heard the sound of the white marble being all but pulverized, and the now scorching fountain water falling over them like boiling rain, and even still, the pain barely registered over the terror.

Opening her eyes, she saw the Armor, standing there with his outstretched hand. Like he'd just... Destroyed the entire structure with a flick of his wrist.

"ATTENTION! USE OF UNAUTHORIZED MAGICAL ITEM DETECTED".

Golden arrows pierced the air, coming from nowhere Lucy could see. The first went through the chest plate, right where the heart should be. The second went precisely into the neck, and the third hit through the plate that covered its' knee.

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Peacekeepers.

"Quick," said Roman, turning to them. "Let's get the hell out of this while he's..."

Can't... Prey... Escape, whispered her mind.

The Armor creaked. More arrows pierced it. So many it started looking like a shining dartboard.

Roman's entire face went pale. Lucy kind of always guessed she'd die a horribly violent death, but even this seemed premature. All this, because of twelve fucking tiles.

Why couldn't she have just shut her fucking mouth and let the kid die?

Wait. The kid!

The joyful wonder had left his eyes, replaced by terror. Lucy felt dangerous anger clasping up her throat. How fucking dare him! She pulled him by the collar of his tunic until his glazed-over eyes left the Armor, still walking, but delayed by the arrows, and focused on her, as best as he could.

"What the fuck even are you?".

"I..." He licked his lips. "I am a scholar. Apprentice".

"So you can use ether!".

He nodded.

"Then fucking use it!".

"I..." his eyes trembled, like a deer facing the hunter's spear. "I swore... I promised... I'd never hurt anyone".

These blood-stained hands, laughed her mind, see how dirty they look in comparison to his? And it wasn't the Armor's whispering this time.

The ability to control ether, to reshape life as it was known, was wasted on the hands of a boy who couldn't grow a spine to save himself. All the while she was trapped with a curse she'd never...

"So, what" she spat, and failed to see how her hands were no longer holding the fabric of his tunic, but pressing down on his collarbone. "You just pay other people to get hurt instead?!".

That walking monster was so close now, that Lucy could barely hear anything but the horrible shriek of golden arrows piercing metal. A shadow rose above them.

Roman looked at her like he was... Seeing something she could never see within herself. Then turned his back and took on the enemy.

His first strike was a closed-fist one, against the side of the Armor's neck. The metal clanked, halting its movements, and, for a second, Lucy feared she'd see Roman's head being split open by a peacekeeper's arrow, but nothing came.

"He's not... Using ether?".

Fist against plate armor didn't seem like a fair fight, but Roman pushed on. He sneaked around the enemy, using speed over strength, attacking whenever he saw an opening. But the arrows hurt him, too. Every time his limbs scraped against light, Lucy heard the sound of the heat sizzling. But he fought, ducking under attacks and evading the longsword like he was untouchable.

The Armor could barely keep up. And, for a second, Lucy allowed herself hope.

Blood, begged the voice inside her mind.

And blood it made rain.

It was so fast, too. One moment, Roman had delivered a heel kick to the back of the Armor's knee, just barely avoiding the arrows. And, in the next, it had closed one fist around his neck, and the other--

Blood, laughed the voice, louder this time.

Closed fist around one of the arrows, pulling it out of the plate. The sound it made carving into the curve of Roman's shoulder...

"Can you do it for me?" Whispered the kid, and Lucy noticed he was holding something. "My hands are shaking too much...".

Lucy's own hand was still drenched in blood, from the mercenary. She hoped it wouldn't interfere with the spell.

Roman fell to the ground, screaming, trying to claw at his own skin. But not for long. The kid leaned forward, both hands on the ground, and it... It...

It breathed. Cobblestone Street rose like a chest heaving.

Lucy noticed her own hand was twitching. She looked sideways, to see that the spotch of blood she'd left on the knot, tied behind the kid's head, so the cloth properly covered his eyes, like a blindfold, was burning a strange shade of earthly green.

And the blood on her hand had turned the same color.

More on instinct than anything else, Lucy brought her hand to her face, forming a circle with her fingers, and closed one eye to properly see through it.

Around her, the entire world shone green. Not as if it had turned green. But there were so many... green-painted words written on everything. On the street, on the buildings, on the torchposts. On the abandoned carriages. Words in a language she couldn't even begin to understand. And they moved. Danced, even. Turning from one to the other, like she was watching the tide breaking on the shore.

The Armor was completely covered in them.

To her side, she heard the boy letting out a tiny, almost unintelligible sorry, and then he cried out.

The ground rose, and she could see the words on the blocks of stone looked the same. She couldn't understand what they were, but that much she could make out. The stone rose, arched, and moved like it had become alive. It encircled the Armor, like a snake, and pulled him to the ground, trapping him. He struggled against it, but even he couldn't possibly move the very stone that made their city.

The living, breathing stone. It would take a while for Lucy to wrap her head around that one.

The boy collapsed, face straight into the cobblestone. Lucy was still hearing the sound of ether burning, so she hurried and put down her hand, the earthly green disappearing, giving way to the old world she was familiar with, and she undid the knot around the blindfold.

The Armor was still struggling against the stone. Inside her mind, she could still hear him screaming.

She ran to where Roman still was, clinging to his stinging shoulder. Even beneath his tunic, she could see it. Like a lightning scar, flowering from where the golden arrow had touched his skin, and spreading in tiny little erratic lines.

Roman bit his tongue to keep from crying in pain and accepted the hand Lucy offered him.

"What... What about him?" Asked Lucy, gesturing to the Armor.

The kid took a deep breath before answering, and, even still, his voice sounded like a thin line, outstretched past its limits. "I... changed the shape of the runes. Unless someone else... Reshapes it... He shouldn't..." A coughing fit stopped him from continuing, but Lucy got the idea.

"You saved my life," said Lucy. "What's your name?".

"Victor," he heaved once more. "Not that any of you deserved it," his gaze lifted up, and she saw that dark circles had suddenly appeared under his eyes. "Especially you".

Roman didn't bother looking guilty. Lucy was suddenly reminded that Roman had left his boss (previous boss?) to die, back in the tavern.

"You would've died just now without each other," she said before things could get uglier.

Roman recoiled at the sound of her voice and tried to look like he didn't. He knelt beside Victor and asked: "Can you walk?".

"I don't believe so".

The man sent her a look, and Lucy knelt on the other side of Victor, careful to make sure he was leaning on Roman's good shoulder. "Alright".

Together, with each of Victor's arms around their shoulders, the two lifted him up. Lucy did take notice of how light the boy was.

This time, it was she who said: "Let's get the hell out of this place, already".

Victor had the gall to chuckle.

However, even as they carried him away, to somewhere - wherever they could deem safe, at least for now, she could still hear the Armor, inside her mind, singing to her promises of bloodshed and violence.

And she did her best to pretend it didn't tempt her.