Chapter 20 : Chase
The night was deep, and while the capital’s surface bustle faded, the underworld hummed with life.
Ailiya tightly gripped the magical compass Vice Principal Melissa had given her.
Its needle glowed with a faint blue light, pointing unwaveringly toward her destination.
She followed its guidance through the black market’s labyrinthine passages, weaving past glowing avenues and into narrow, deserted alleys, until the needle steadied before a dilapidated tavern with a creaking sign: “Three-Eyed Raven.”
Pushing open the groaning wooden door, a wave of foul air hit her—sour cheap ale, fermented sweat, and the acrid burn of low-grade tobacco. She wrinkled her nose.
The tavern’s dim light came from skull-shaped magical lamps hanging from beams, casting a sickly glow that warped the space into a surreal haze.
A motley crowd of rogues filled the place, their raucous chatter and crude laughter echoing, their faces shadowed and indistinct.
Ignoring the curious and predatory glances, Ailiya’s gaze cut through the smoky crowd, locking onto a lone man drinking in the corner.
The compass needle pointed directly at him.
Taking a deep breath, she brushed past a drunken man trying to chat her up and sat across from the figure.
“Excuse me,” she said bluntly, “have you recently taken a commission from St. Freya Academy?”
The man, clad in an unremarkable gray cloak with the hood pulled low, froze mid-sip.
He didn’t answer immediately, instead draining the last of his drink, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
A bead of sweat slid silently down his temple.
He fished a few grimy copper coins from his pocket, placing them deliberately on the greasy bar, as if buying time.
The air around them seemed to solidify.
Nearby, a drunk bragged loudly, a bard strummed an off-key lute in the distance, but Ailiya’s world narrowed to the man’s cautious movements and her own thundering heartbeat.
As a plump waiter humming a tune passed with a tray of drinks, the man moved.
He shoved the waiter aside, sending drinks and tray crashing in a cacophony that masked his bolt for the door.
Like a startled beast, he fled the tavern without looking back.
Ailiya had her answer.
Without hesitation, she sprang after him.
The black market was a maze of eyes; lose him now, and he’d vanish forever.
“Stop!” she shouted.
“Crazy woman! Who the hell are you?!” he yelled back, not slowing.
He knew the terrain like the back of his hand, darting down the fastest routes.
With a deft move, he toppled a stall of forbidden potions, colorful bottles shattering, releasing a choking, sulfurous fog to block her path.
Ailiya covered her nose with her sleeve and charged through, undeterred.
She saw him aiming for a narrow ventilation duct. Without thinking, she kicked off a nearby wall, her body arcing gracefully through the air, landing at the duct’s other end before he could escape.
“Damn it!”
He cursed, veering toward another path.
Despite her seemingly cumbersome maid dress, its skirt fluttering, Ailiya’s speed was startling, shadowing him like a white wraith.
Desperate, he kicked open a half-closed iron door, rushing into a cluttered warehouse.
Ailiya followed, only for him to roar and shove a massive shelf toward her.
She didn’t block it, instead rolling aside, dodging the shelf while hooking his ankle with her foot.
He stumbled but used the moment to regain distance, fleeing through another exit.
They moved like shadows in a maze, swift and fluid.
Finally, he hit a dead end—a three-meter stone wall slick with moss.
Without hesitation, he scaled it, stepping quickly and hauling himself over the edge.
He thought he’d lost the madwoman.
But as he landed, he turned and saw a sight he’d never forget.
The white-haired maid backed up a few steps, then sprinted forward. A meter from the wall, her legs exploded with power, launching her skyward like a cannonball.
Her small hands gripped the wall’s edge, her body swinging in a perfect arc, landing lightly on the other side.
Her terrifying athleticism stunned him.
They emerged from the stifling black market into the open air.
Moonlight bathed the capital, the palace and St. Freya’s spires serene and sacred in the night.
Neither had time for the view.
Their chase continued across the city’s rooftops, leaping between tightly packed buildings.
The man’s stamina waned, his breathing heavy and ragged.
Glancing back, he saw the girl still pursuing, her breathing steady, as if the intense parkour was a leisurely stroll.
Is she a monster?!
He couldn’t take it anymore.
Spotting an open plaza below, he leaped, landing steadily.
He drew a gleaming dagger from his cloak, aiming it at Ailiya as she landed.
Damn it! If I knew more than tweaking system code, I’d blast this lunatic with a flame arrow!
Ailiya landed gracefully, advancing step by step.
To him, she loomed like the Hulk facing Loki in a Marvel movie—pure despair.
“I’ll take you down!”
He roared, charging with the dagger.
Ailiya’s eyes sharpened.
As the blade aimed for her face, she calmly tilted her head, dodging effortlessly. Her right hand shot out, seizing his wrist and twisting it outward.
He yelped, the dagger clattering to the ground.
Ailiya gave no quarter. Her left fist rocketed forward, a whistling cannonball, striking his right ribs with precision.
“Ugh!”
He groaned in pain, his body stiffening like a cooked shrimp.
Then came the second punch—same spot, same angle, same force.
“Argh…”
His eyes rolled back, foam at his mouth, and he collapsed like a sack of mud, unconscious.
Ailiya withdrew her fist, blowing on it as if dusting it off, a small, triumphant smirk on her face.