"Löwe! Come 'ere! Quick! Come 'ere!"

Kaiz turned and strolled towards a 'hidden' hall at the back of the orphanage. The Sisters all knew of its existence of course, it had been exposed long before Kaiz's time, but they decided to act oblivious to it. He appreciated that freedom when lived here so he wouldn't be the one to ruin the kids' fun.

He slid past the fake wall that served as its door and shook his head, "It's come 'here', Lucas. Are you paying attention in class?"

Lucas blew off his question, "Just come!" Then he ran.

Kaiz sighed, but followed behind. The 'hidden' hall wasn't very large, if he rested his back on one wall he could still plant his palm on the other. The room it led to, however, was quite spacious.

Down a staircase and to the left, he arrived at the unfinished basement he once called home. Nothing about it had changed, the walls and ceiling were still grey concrete and the floor was still sandstone. The boys had added their own personal belongings to the space, but orphans didn't exactly own a long inventory of items.

"Guys! Look who's here!"

"Doman!"

"Doman! You're here!"

Lucas frowned, "Guys! He's Löwe this month!"

"Doman is way cooler though."

Kaiz chuckled as four boys tried to tackle him to the ground, "You know the rules. New name every month."

The boy on his right leg bear hugged it, "But we like Doman!"

"Well, you can pick it again in a few months." He lifted two of them and threw them over his shoulder, "But for now my name is Löwe. Understood?"

One or two of the boys responded, but most of the room just groaned. Kaiz had to be a bit harsher.

He shuck off the four that clung to him and straightened his back, "Am. I. Understood?"

This time, he heard a cascade of "yes'".

He smiled, "Good. Now who's ready to spar? You guys better have improved since last time!"

More than two hours passed as he 'fought' several of the boys and gave them a handful of pointers. There were eleven of them in total, but only eight were willing to take a few light hits from him. The other three just practiced some forms he taught.

Lucas was by far the most enthusiastic of the bunch. Though his talent didn't quite match his energy, Kaiz could see the fighter in him emerging. Slowly. His arms were still quite uncoordinated, but he had a knack for moving his feet.

At the end of the two hours, he bid them all farewell. He intended on leaving after the hour mark, but they dragged him back each time. They only allowed him leave once a hundred and twenty minutes elapsed. At that point, they couldn't complain that he hadn't given them enough of his time. Once freed, he trudged up the stairs, out the hallway, and back towards the room he had originally been heading towards.

"Ah! Kaizer. We've been expecting you all week. The boys have been talking about you nonstop."

Sister Sophia met him along the way, looking as studious as ever. She never went anywhere without at least two books tucked under her arms, one about history and one about engineering. Today, she had three.

Kaiz didn't recognize them, but they were all black and red, suggesting a common subject matter. If he didn't know her better, he'd have assumed she picked them for aesthetic reasons. They went superbly with the light grey gowns all the Sisters wore.

"Yeah, apologies. It's been a really busy month."

She waved away his apology, "No, no. None of that. You're nothing but a blessing here. The fact you consistently make time to visit is enough."

Kaiz could only awkwardly smile, "It's the least I can do."

Her smile was a lot more natural, "You guys do so much more than that. This place is a lot better because of you all. But I won't take anymore of your time. Sister Jen is in the kitchen right now."

"Thank you!"

They separated and Kaiz power walked to the kitchen. His business wasn't necessarily urgent, but he suddenly had a feeling it would be better to complete it sooner rather than later.

Thankfully, chance favored him. Sister Jen walked out of the kitchen just as he approached.

"Kaizer!" She immediately pulled him into a hug, "It's good to see you."

"It's good to see you as well Sister."

She released him from the hug, but kept a hold of his shoulders, "You've gotten bigger again."

"I have?"

"Still no mirror in that house of yours?" Her eyes dripped with judgement.

Kaiz elected to not answer, "I'm here to drop off a letter. A pair of twins were thrown out by the north gate, but they're too old for Summer's Home."

Sister Jen's face darkened, "How old?"

"Twelve."

"I see… untitled?"

Kaiz almost snorted, but he held it in, "They're both tanlars."

She slapped his arm, "Don't use that word. Just say untitled."

Kaiz opened his mouth, but quickly shut it. Though he no longer cared about the connotations behind the word, for most untitleds the term still stung. It meant a lot more to them than just 'untitled'.

"Apologies. We confirmed that they're both untitled."

"Better." She tapped his chest, "You shouldn't ever use that word. Anyway, bring them. We have space."

Kaizer pulled an envelope out of his pocket, "What about the letter?"

She turned around, "I already know what it says."

"I'll just leave it in your office then."

"No, come with me. The kids have been talking about you all week."

Kaiz sighed, but followed along.

Another two hours later, at the onset of sunset, Kaiz returned to his home. More importantly, he returned to his work.

“This time. This time it'll work.”

He just finished putting the final touches on a rune. He loathed working with Summit’s Superior Ink. Despite the name, it was the lowest quality ink one could find for runecrafting. Its mana consistency, the most important aspect of any runic ink, was shoddy on its best day. The lack of quality came with an equally low price point, though.

He wanted to get better ink, something more reliable, but he couldn’t afford to waste his resources stretching for a goal that may be out of his current reach. While he knew runes could be the future for manaless tanlars, the exact path still eluded him.

Greater men than him had pondered how to bridge the gap between titleds and untitleds. Their conclusion inevitably always came back to enchantments, the only external source of both mana and spellcraft. It was correct in many ways. Enchantments certainly allowed the manaless to fight on equal footing with titleds, Kaiz himself was proof of that, but it was no liberator. Most titleds didn’t have a single enchanted item to their name. The odds of a tanlar getting their hands on one were slimmer than the famished arms those hands would be attached to. No. For Kaiz, enchantments were no solution at all.

Runes, to anyone who knew anything about them, were an even worse answer. Unlike enchantments that stored sufficient amounts of mana internally, runes required an external source to function. The mana in its ink only served as a catalyst to activate the written spell, it wasn’t enough to power them. For a titled, the external source was their own pool. For a tanlar, they had to use winter batteries.

Getting a small battery to power a simple rune wasn’t backbreaking, but the kind of runes that were necessary to fight equally with a titled were anything but simple. They were terribly complex and mana inefficient, demanding winter batteries that cost three arms and five legs. That wouldn’t do.

His plans for runes were much different, however. He had no interest in treating the symptoms; he wanted a cure.

“Configuration 342C, battery 2A.” He jotted down in his notebook.

Though it had to be noted that ‘plan’ was a generous way to say ‘a vague, misty suspicious that an idea could potentially be possible.’

“Attempt 3.”

He took out a small battery and placed it in a tong suspended above the rune. It was the absolute cheapest battery you could buy, costing a mere four silvers. The amount of mana it stored matched its size and price, minute. It would do the job just fine though.

He lowered the battery until it was just above the rune then he grabbed a magnifying glass and waited. The metal casing of the battery securely sealed the mana inside, so he couldn’t see it. He shouldn’t see it. If the rune worked as he intended though, he would. There would be visible leakage as mana seeped through the metal and into the rune, lighting it up.

Minutes passed as Kaiz patiently observed. He’d completely cleared his desk to make sure nothing could even momentarily distract him. He dedicated his full attention to the project. If it worked, in any way, it would be revolutionary. Even if only the most minuscule, microscopic spot of mana passed through, it’d be enough. Proof of concept was all he needed right now. So he waited and observed. And waited. And observed. Time went by, but he remained still. Unmoving. In more ways than one.

Nothing happened.

More than half an hour elapsed before he admitted to himself that nothing would happen. A deep sigh fell out of his being. He wasn’t foolish enough to expect quick success, but continued failure still hurt.

“Time: 34 minutes. No effect.”

He scribbled a few extra details, but it wasn’t long before he tucked away the notebook and cleared his desk again. Tomorrow was a new day, but tonight he had other responsibilities.

Kaiz vaulted out the window, knives kissing the fringes of his hair as he sailed through. Forty feet of air separated him from the roof below, but he covered it with ease. Miniature clouds emerged below his soles as he hopped down to the next building. The dauntless form of gravity proving meek. He heard the two figures behind him halt. For them it was still mighty. They cursed him as he descended, but he paid them little mind. The chase wasn’t over.

Before he could land, another Nightwatcher emerged. This one didn’t bother with insults. Blades already drawn, the would-be ambusher immediately slashed at Kaiz’s thighs. Uninterested in amputation, he raised his leg and blocked the blades with his boot. Not one to hold a position for longer than necessary, he promptly leapt, pushing off newly formed clouds and propelling himself a few meters up. Though well out of a sword’s range now, hovering made him a sitting duck for throwing knives. He hastily kicked off another set of clouds as two of said knives soared into the night sky. Though hasty, it was a measured act, more of a hop than a leap. He drifted laterally, the opposite direction of the Nightwatcher, and softly landed across the roof.

The maneuver didn’t deter the cloaked man one bit. The man made full use of both of his short swords, resuming his assault with increased ferocity. No longer floating in midair, however, Kaiz found his attack wanting. He effortlessly dodged his flurry, nimbly gliding around each swing. His attacks simply lacked the necessary speed. It helped that his moves were markedly predictable, but Kaiz was sure he’d be fine even without that touch. Mostly.

He wouldn’t stick around to be proven wrong anyway. The situation wasn’t sustainable. His boots would run out of mana far before the Nightwatcher ran out of steam. At that point, no amount of predictability would help him.

The man, a substandard dual swordsman, inevitably came to terms with his inadequacy. He swiftly sheathed his second blade and attempted to reposition to a single sword form. Alas, his realization came too late. Before he could even set his shoulders, Kaiz lunged forward. Kaiz’s foot met his torso faster than a human could shut their eyes. If the Nightwatcher was cognizant of his surroundings in his final moments, he would have heard a deafening roar of wind as his chest caved in. His lifeless body rocketed off the roof and smacked against an adjacent building. As his corpse fell into a nondescript alley, Kaiz frowned.

I used too much.

It was the dead of night. Silence reigned as most of Walldaun slept. While this was often the backdrop for Kaiz’s runs, it was the most inopportune time for his current one. A normal run would grant him guards as pursuers, maybe mercenaries if it was more high-stakes. But this one, this one handed him the stupendous honor of being chased by Nightwatchers. ‘Kings of the Night’, as they liked to call themselves. Few would admit it, but they’d earned that title. If the sun didn’t light up the sky, escaping their watch was a fool’s errand. Kaiz’s errand.

He renewed his sprint across the roofs, moving with the wind. The buildings in District 7 were largely even at three storeys. Beyond the odd exception here or there, the rest of his path to the sandstone wall surrounding Walldaun remained clear. He’d cover the distance quickly.

He was at a loss about what to do, however. He needed to take out two Nightwatchers before he reached his final destination, but he’d already sapped most of the mana in his boots. Fighting another one in their current state was a dicey prospect at best. If he could catch one by surprise he may have had a chance, but that was improbable. The final two wouldn’t conveniently separate for him. Even if they did, they’d have seen how he fought. He didn't have enough mana for his full range of skills and there was no way they’d fall for the same trick.

He reached the border between District 7 and the slums slightly ahead of time, but without a plan of action, he paused. Unsure of himself, he peeked over his shoulder. In what would have been pure darkness for anyone else, save for the street lanterns, Kaiz glimpsed two bodies of white light. They rushed towards him like dustmoths to water.

Shit.

He lunged off the roof, over the sandstone wall, and rolled to his feet on the other side. Out of the organized and well-maintained business district, he now stood in the slums of North West. Beyond the somewhat neat neighborhood that touched the outer wall, an unruly maze of shacks and mud houses stretched out before him. He couldn’t quite see it at the moment, but sight wasn’t necessary. He knew every corner of this lawless labyrinth. He hid himself in the shadows and waited. They’d find him. The shadows were their domain after all, but all he needed was a moment, just a few seconds of inattentiveness.

The wind sang as he waited, a lovely tune. It sounded even better out in the forest, but there was something about the echo off of brick and stone that appealed to him. He’d have to ponder the matter another time, however. They were close.

“The bastard went this way.”

Very close.

“Which way?”

Almost there.

“Down that path.”

Just a little more.

“Get out of my way monkey!”

Now!

Just as the Nightwatcher moved to kick a homeless tanlar, Kaiz emerged from his hiding spot riding a gale. Winds gathered around him as he flew feet first at the man. It was everything he could muster from the last remnants of his boots’ mana. If he was lucky, it would be a lethal strike. Of course, he wasn’t lucky.

They both dodged at the last second. The man he aimed for dodged completely. Thankfully, the man behind him didn’t. Kaiz’s boot crashed into the edge of his shoulder with the force of a cannon. He careened into a nearby shack, crushing its admittedly shaky constitution. Kaiz felt like he landed a decent connection, but he didn’t wait around to confirm. The moment his boots touched sand, he bolted.

One and a half Nightwatchers. Either Conan can handle that... or we’re in deep shit.

He found the main street into North West and hurtled down it. It was largely barren. Unlike the many crooks and crannies one could find in the slums, the homeless stayed clear of the main streets at night. This marked the final leg of his journey.

The final leg would always be the hardest. Not only were his boots out of mana, robbing him of their passive speed boost, he had just spent the last twenty minutes in a near constant sprint. Fatigue built up, the full head mask he wore made breathing difficult, and worst of all his bag weighed almost half his body weight. It was one thing to transport goods; it was a whole other thing to transport heavy goods. And whatever that second thing was, it wasn’t his thing. His muscles were incredibly vocal on that point.

Almost there now. Almost there.

Interrupting his self-motivation, a knife narrowly missed his leg. He barely saw it coming, just glimpsing a shadow raising its arm. The Nightwatchers were on him again. His quick dash to the side was all that saved him from an unwelcome guest in his thigh. He could imagine what would happen if he didn’t react in time and it sent shivers down his spine. The throwing knives were ineffective on the rooftops, he was too quick for them. Right now though, he could only pray they took his miraculous dodge as a sign to not waste their energy on it.

Just keep moving!

Thankfully, before more knives flew, Kaiz arrived at his destination. He took a sharp right and barreled into a dark alleyway. It would have been a struggle to see, coming from the well-lit street, but halfway into the alley there was a lantern attached to the side of a building. It gleamed in the darkness, much brighter than the usual street lantern. Reaching the light, Kaiz turned towards the building and dove into one of its windows. He scurried across the room and waited by an opposing window, his bag held tightly to his chest.

“He went t—”

Suddenly, the ring of wood meeting bone reached his ears. The sounds of a scuffle followed closely behind. It persisted for a fair few minutes. He couldn’t see the fight itself, but he at least spotted familiar armor. The dull green chitin armor could only belong to one gang.

“Come on you filthy monkeys! You think you can take me?!”

They got one?

From the panic in the voice that would seem like the case, but Kaiz wasn’t going to jump to any conclusions. He didn’t fully grasp the situation outside. Even if one of them had a lame arm, they were still Nightwatchers. They were level 15 at a minimum, more likely above 20. To say nothing of the ludicrous boosts their cloaks gave them on top of that. He’d wait until things died down before choosing his next course of action.

Fortunately, the wait would be short.

“You—”

“Kill’em!”

“In the eye, you idiots! Don't damage the cloaks.”

Kaiz recognized that voice. It was as cold, harsh, and ugly as its owner.

“Strip‘em.”

That was the sign Kaiz was looking for. He rushed to open his bag and search through. He located the items he needed and moved them from his bag and into another, smaller one. Outside the window he sat next to, he spotted a mess of broken wooden barrels and dropped the smaller bag into it. It camouflaged well amongst the larger brown planks. Content with its hiding place, he closed his bag and ran back across the room. A quick peek out the window revealed a couple of familiar men standing amidst quite a few corpses. The most prominent of the corpses were being stripped clean.

He brought a lot of men.

“Oi. Treerat, get out here.”

Kaiz obeyed, hopping through the window he peeked from. He looked at the face of the man who called him. It was brown, a common characteristic in Goldfrucht, but also heavily scarred. The complete lack of hair only served to highlight each scar that marred his skin. Along his jawline, across his scalp, in between the eyes. Scars featured everywhere. It was a miracle both of his eyes still worked. They were quite the stand outs, being the only normal aspects of his appearance. To Kaiz, his functioning sight was a testament to how far you could get while never dodging. Or wearing a helmet.

“That’s job do—”

Conan cut him off with a stare, “Two followed ya?”

Three, actually.

Kaiz would hold that information close to his chest, though. If Conan knew the truth, it would be war and not the kind of war they had any hope of winning.

“Yeh. Fas’ too, ‘mos thought I ain’t make it.”

Conan walked up to Kaiz, scrutinizing him as he approached, “Was only ‘possed to be one.”

Conan wasn’t a particularly tall man, only an inch or two taller than Kaiz, but his scarred face and wide frame made for an imposing figure.

Kaiz backed up, “I ono. Boss jus’ said put some shit ina bag an’ run ‘ere. You’d do the res’.”

An eerie silence prevailed as Conan continued to scrutinize Kaiz. The only acoustics were the muted sounds of clothes being carefully removed from dead bodies. It was equal parts unsettling and calming. That is until those muted sounds got even quieter and the distinct tone of footsteps were mixed in.

“Not like Viz to be so vague. What’s in the sack?”

“Jus’ some trinkets an’ tools.”

Conan looked thoroughly unconvinced, “That right? Show me.”

Kaiz tried to back up again, but he bumped into one of Conan’s lackeys, “That ain’t the deal.”

Conan didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he continued to stare as his men steadily surrounded Kaiz. They took their time, making sure to well and truly encircle him. If he still had mana in his boots, all their efforts would be for naught, but as he was, he could only lament the fact he wasted it on making sure they didn’t get wiped out. He shook his head internally as the last few men shuffled in.

Once they well and truly besieged him on all sides, Conan spoke, “You ain’t runnin’ nowhere. What’s in that sack?”