"This is none of your business, kid."

  Vincent continued to cautiously approach the fallen man.

  "Get lost if you don't want you and your little friends to end up dead or shitting in a diaper. Like this son of a bitch, this miserable bastard, soon."

  With every word that came out of the thug's mouth, Vincent became more convinced that Tara had been wrong. This wasn't a setup by Runehaven Academy, it wasn't part of the field study. They had simply gotten into trouble as usual, without asking for it.

  "That's enough," Vincent said.

  "Oh, trying to give me orders, little boy. You're so adorable I want to rip out your fucking tongue."

  He himself had threatened an asshole with doing that not so long ago. It felt worse than he thought to be on the other side.

  , he thought, That was always the most important thing to remember.

  One of the bastards rushed him. Vincent blocked the attack with his own. The thug's arms were like tree trunks; he looked like he could snap his neck with ease. Of course, physical appearance didn't necessarily indicate someone's true strength. One's stats helped, a lot, and they weren't necessarily reflected in their physique.

  There was no way to know his stats, but the impact had been very strong. The metal of both swords vibrated. For a second, he imagined the sword flying out of his hand. Fortunately, that didn't happen.

  "Some kids show up before the city guard," some guy in the crowd muttered. "Typical, for fuck's sake."

  , Vincent thought.

  Ayame launched herself at the others, bypassing him. Vincent and the asshole with arms like tree trunks exchanged half a dozen blows before Vincent suddenly dropped to the ground. Less than a second later, an arrow whistled past where his head had been. Of course, it was an arrow shot by Tara, but he had never been in danger. They were a team now, maybe not the best of the first-year students at Runehaven Academy, as Tara believed, but a real team. After all, they coordinated effortlessly, communicating without words.

  The arrow hit the thug square in the forehead. Of course, this didn't kill him—it was rare to see someone get into a fight without the necessary stats to at least survive a couple of arrows between the eyes, or a good sword strike. But the force of the impact knocked the big guy down, and Vincent wasted no time hitting him in the neck with his shield, leaving him clutching his throat with both hands, gasping and writhing. Out of commission.

  The rest swarmed Ayame. The rest minus one swarmed Ayame, one who stayed behind, watching. But, of course, the vampire was going to have no trouble handling them, even though it was afternoon and the sun was shining brightly. Up there, the sun made one wonder what Ayame was like at one hundred percent of her strength. Inside the dungeon, the sunlight hadn't reached them, of course, but he hadn't felt she was particularly stronger or anything like that. He wondered just how far she could go, in similar conditions and really trying. Anyway, as long as she could handle what they needed, he supposed it didn't matter.

  Vincent made a move to join her, to help, but then the one who had stayed behind turned and ran. He had a feeling he was the leader of that little group, at least, the one who didn't get his hands dirty, the one with the answers. Maybe he was on the wrong track, but in any case, he didn't have to let him get away.

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  Vincent chased him closely, jumping over bodies, dodging people and the natural terrain. They entered an increasingly narrow alley, which didn't have to be a problem, but the bastard he was chasing was quite a bit more compact than him. Between his armor, sword, and shield, he definitely would have managed anyway, but it turned out not to be a problem.

  Goddammit! I'm pathetic! Mainly because a worse problem presented itself.

  The slippery son of a bitch suddenly stopped, but not because he had given up, because he wanted to end this as quickly as possible, but because he had another way out: up, running along the walls, jumping from wall to wall. He reached the rooftops in no time without any trouble, but, of course, Vincent didn't have such agility.

  Goddammit.

  Even if he were a real Knight, he wouldn't have an ability that would help him get to the roof so easily. Well, that he knew of, but he wasn't ready to give up so soon. He decided to follow him from below, running through the streets, his gaze always fixed on the son of a bitch, as he pushed his way through the crowd, with shoves and elbows when necessary. He didn't want to lose the bastard, and when he caught him, to be honest, he wasn't sure how he would meet up with Tara and Ayame again. He had no idea where anything was in this fucking city, yet. But well, he could think about that later, and improvise.

  For now, it was enough to concentrate, not to lose sight of him. For now.

  Pushing his way through, running faster and faster, or at least trying to, he collided with a group of people who pushed him back, annoyed.

  "Let me pass!"

  They paid him no fucking attention. They looked at him as if he were crazy, as if he were nothing more than a nuisance. Vincent at least looked up. That guy, probably the leader, was still running across the rooftops that rose into his view. But that wouldn't last. He had to move fast. Every second he lost was too much time. And he had already lost too many seconds, just trying, waiting, for these people... no, not scum, he thought, but he shouldn't have expected them to be reasonable.

  So Vincent took a leap. It was a group of people in front of a market stall. So he took a leap. He grabbed the edges of the stall and used it to propel himself to the other side. He landed in a roll. He got up quickly, but his jump wasn't as graceful and perfect as he had felt in the moment. In other words...

  "For fuck's sake!" exclaimed the shopkeeper.

  Because, of course, the stall had collapsed. He saw some of the merchandise, large and undoubtedly juicy watermelons, roll onto the ground. He felt bad, but he had other priorities now. Vincent kept running. The bastard was too fast and agile. He went from building to building without any problems.

  Vincent still didn't see an easy way to reach him. Maybe he should have tried to jump between the walls like him, he thought. But he had been too afraid of messing up completely and only managing to waste crucial time. Now it was too late for that. Scratched off the list. So what was left?

  Quite a lot, it turned out. He found a load tied to an elevator. Vincent jumped on top and cut the rope, releasing the cargo. As a result, the elevator shot up, and Vincent rose with it. He landed on the roof, cutting off the son of a bitch's path. Then he tackled him, throwing him to the ground, getting on top of him and pinning him down.

  "What was that for? What the hell were you doing to that man?" Vincent asked.

  "Arrest me, throw me in a cell, or whatever you think you should do with men of my ilk, kid. And if I were to kill you, brother, you son of a bitch, Sergio Borlón, you wouldn't dare, even if you had something to gain by it, which you don't. You want answers? Then don't shut me up."

  Vincent pressed down on his back, digging his knee in. He also twisted his arm.

  "Answers you're not willing to give me, so what good are you to me? With you gone, at least there will be one less criminal on the street," Vincent said.

  "You see..." the man said with a confidence that made Vincent want to scream, to roar. "I see it in your eyes. You've never killed anyone. You can hack up plenty of monsters, but not a human."

  , Vincent thought. That's what he should have said, before slitting his throat. But he was speechless. He swallowed.

  "Yeah, that's what I thought," the guy affirmed.

  Vincent growled, raised his sword, and hit him on the side of the head, knocking him unconscious. Vincent took a deep breath. He lifted the body and slung it over one shoulder as he stood up.

  "Now, where the hell do I go? What do I do?" he whispered.

  Looking around. At the buildings, the other rooftops, and the chaotic, crowded streets.

  The dead weight on his shoulder began to move. It had done so before, several times, in dreams, so at first, he wasn't alarmed. But then he saw him open his eyes.

  "Go to sleep, asshole," Vincent said, and hit him again.

  He immediately fell back asleep.