Albrecht was momentarily frozen, not because of magic but due to panic.

  In the meantime, the man thrust his hand forward, and from the counter, a faint glyph flared to life, a swirling inscription of glowing blue runes pulsing with magic.

  'Not good.'

  Albrecht didn't have time to think.

  He bolted.

  The door slammed open as he launched himself into the marketplace. The alarm's shriek didn't stop—if anything, it grew louder, echoing through like a siren.

  "Stop him!" the shopkeeper yelled.

  People turned. Heads swiveled. Some pedestrians stepped back in shock, while others looked ready to intervene.

  Fortunately, the marketplace had become more crowded despite the wanted criminal being on the loose. His only cover was a sea of moving bodies, merchants calling out deals, and carts rolling over the cobblestone.

  Albrecht lowered his posture, slipping into the mass of people.

  He didn't run. He walked.

  Fast enough to make progress but slow enough to avoid suspicion, weaving through the shifting crowd.

  The shopkeeper's shouting voice faded behind him, the alarm still screeching, but he was almost at the end of the marketplace.

  Just a few more steps, and he'd reach the bridge, the canal splitting the town in two. The buildings on the other side looked dense, the perfect place to hide in some alleys.

  Then, a heavy hand clamped down on his left shoulder.

  Albrecht tensed.

  He turned slowly, heart pounding, as he came face-to-face with a heavily armored man.

  The guard's steel breastplate gleamed under the morning sun. Its surface was engraved with an imposing insignia: two eagle heads intertwined, their sharp beaks crossing like a symbol of authority and unwavering vigilance.

  "Stop right there, thief!"

  The man was big. Broad-shouldered, well-fed, with a thick beard and a sharp gaze that immediately locked onto him.

  'Shit' was all Albrecht thought in that moment.

  The guard's grip was iron-tight, preventing Albrecht from moving forward. His fingers dug into the fabric of his vest, his strength undeniable.

  Albrecht didn't have a weapon. Even if he did, there was no way he could fight a trained guard or soldier in the middle of a crowded marketplace.

  But he still had one advantage.

  By now, a large group of people had gathered, forming a loose circle around him and the guard. Some watched in silence, others whispered among themselves, speculating about the scene unfolding before them.

  From somewhere behind him, a woman muttered under her breath, loud enough for him to hear.

  "Hmph. Probably some disgraced noble turning to thievery. Just look at him."

  A few chuckles rippled through the bystanders.

  'Is that supposed to be an insult or compliment?' he thought.

  His lips twitched, but he forced himself to stay focused.

  'Fine. You want a show?'

  With a dramatic sigh, he lifted his hands in surrender.

  "Alright, you got me," he said, turning slowly.

  The guard's grip loosened slightly, his confidence taking over. He reached for the iron cuffs on his belt, shifting his hold for just a second—

  And that was exactly what Albrecht needed.

  In an instant, he moved.

  He threw his weight sideways, twisting his shoulder downward just enough to slip completely free from the guard's grasp.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  The armored man reacted immediately, lunging forward—

  But Albrecht was already gone.

  The moment his feet hit the ground, he shoved past the circle of bystanders, their startled yelps and gasps barely registering in his ears.

  He darted forward, legs pumping, racing toward the bridge.

  The guard roared in frustration, shoving past onlookers as he lurched forward, his heavy armor clanking with every step.

  But maneuvering through a dense crowd in bulky armor was anything but easy, each movement sluggish.

  "Stop that man!"

  He even unsheathed his sword, but Albrecht was already weaving through the marketplace, slipping between carts and merchant stalls.

  A nearby vendor grabbed a wooden crate and swung it into his path.

  Albrecht twisted mid-stride, narrowly dodging it. The crate slammed against the ground behind him, splintering open, apples rolling everywhere.

  Next, a thick boot shot out from the side.

  Albrecht barely had time to react. He jumped, his momentum carrying him just far and high enough to avoid getting tripped.

  'What's with this damn civil courage?' he thought, gritting his teeth.

  The bridge was right there.

  He could already hear the rush of water beneath it and smell the damp stone of the canal walls.

  But just as he neared the arching stone passage, a second guard stepped forward at the far end. He was equally armored and blocking his only path forward.

  'Shit. I shouldn't have gone for the bridge.'

  If he stopped now, he was caught.

  If he turned back, the first guard would seize him.

  Only one option left: the canal.

  With no time to hesitate, Albrecht went left toward the bridge railing. He pushed off in one fluid motion, launching himself into the open air and into the canal below.

  The cold shock of the water hit him like a punch to the chest. The dark water swallowed him whole, muffling the distant shouts from above.

  For a brief moment, he just sank, the weight of his soaked clothes dragging him downward. Then instinct kicked in.

  He kicked hard, forcing himself upward, breaking the surface with a sharp gasp.

  The canal was deeper than expected, and the current was stronger than it looked. The stone walls on either side were smooth and slick with algae, rising too high for him to simply climb out.

  'Damn it, no ladders?'

  He had to act fast before drowning.

  Albrecht turned to swim toward the right bank, aiming for the tighter district with its winding alleys. But just as he propelled forward, something slammed into him from behind.

  A small merchant boat.

  The force knocked him under, the water closing over his head in an instant.

  The world blurred into murky green and brown, the depths swallowing him. For a moment, he felt weightless, his limbs useless against the sudden rush.

  He fought against the drag, twisting his body, but then his left shoulder smacked hard against the canal wall.

  Pain jolted through him, a sharp burning throb spreading down his arm. He barely stifled a grunt, bubbles escaping from his mouth.

  He kicked furiously, breaking the surface again, gasping for breath.

  And that's when he heard someone.

  "Over here! Grab my hand!"

  A woman's voice, sharp and urgent, cutting through the noise of the city.

  Albrecht's eyes snapped toward the right side of the canal.

  A woman stood at the water's edge, perched on a low wooden platform extending slightly over the canal. She was leaning forward, one arm outstretched toward him, fingers spread wide.

  She was further ahead, and he was still drifting too much to the left.

  'Move, damn body.'

  Fighting the pain in his shoulder, Albrecht angled his body, bracing his foot against the wall, and pushed off with everything he had.

  The sudden force propelled him sideways, sending a sharp ache through his already battered muscles.

  His muscles burned, water sloshing into his mouth as he pushed further, forcing himself toward salvation.

  Just a few more strokes, he was almost there.

  He threw everything into one last push.

  Their hands met.

  Her grip was strong, fingers locking tightly around his wrist. With a sharp yank, she hauled him upward.

  The wooden planks groaned beneath them as he toppled on top of her, drenching her in cold water from his soaked clothes.

  Albrecht, still catching his breath, realized his face was mere inches from hers.

  Her golden blonde hair was now splayed out beneath her, strands sticking to her damp skin.

  She blinked up at him, her striking eyes locked onto his.

  Albrecht swallowed.

  "…This isn't my fault."

  She raised an eyebrow. "Then get off me."

  "Right. Yes. Of course."

  Albrecht tried to push himself up, but he was unable to do so.

  It was not just from the wet clothes dragging against him.

  It was not just from the awkward position.

  But it was because something was terribly wrong.

  His vision blurred, the edges of the world fading into white-hot agony as he instinctively clutched his ribs. Something was wet. Sticky.

  It wasn't water.

  It was blood. His blood.

  A lot of it.

  Albrecht gritted his teeth, his breath shallow as he forced himself to look down.

  His entire right side had been ripped open.

  Muscle, flesh, and sinew had been carved away. His ribs were fully visible, pale against the dark mess of blood soaking the wound.

  For a second, he thought he saw something moving.

  Something inside him.

  His own organs shifted unnaturally, barely held together.

  'Fuck'