Sweat dribbled down his face as he caught a quick glance of the thief's back which was now moving through the streets like a snake. Nesta couldn't believe that he got fooled on his first day in the city. He took an infuriated look at everything going on around him with Clara's final words before entering the store still repeating itself in his head like a mantra.
Without even thinking about the consequences of his actions, he bolted desperately in the same direction the thieves were running in.
His legs pushed against the cobblestones of the blacksmith's Row. His pulse hummed a little faster, like a drum warming under a soft touch. The air felt sharper in his chest as he drew in a deeper breath with all his might. Muscles coiled subtly beneath the skin—tight calves, flexing toes, his thighs gathering tension like drawn bowstrings.
A feint heat bloomed along his limbs as blood pushed its way through his body preparing him for what was about to come.
"Thieves! They have taken my item!"he screamed at the top of his lungs. A surge of fear, anger, frustration and shock washed over his body with intensity. This caused him to hold on to his throat which was a little bit sore after the intense scream.
To his surprise, everybody looked at him once but ignored him in the next second. It was as if they were all blaming him for what had happened to him. "Fuckers! Can't you just call some police or whatever security agency you have in this world?"he bellowed, frustrated to see people staring back—not disturbed by what was going on.
Nesta started pushing people out of his way while mumbling cursed words under his breath. His heart thumped loudly in his chest with its ripples reaching out to his ears as he sprinted towards the men.
He did not understand why everything was working against him at the moment. What he believed was his past life was something he could never boast of. It was a pain filled life which shook him to the very core and questioned his sanity all the time. Fortunately he got the opportunity to come into this new world and everything apart from him meeting Clara was just like before, crap.
Stalls rattled and merchants scattered as the two thieves tore through the medieval market, shoving past baskets of figs and dangling bolts of rough-dyed cloth. Their boots slapped against the dusty stones, breaths ragged, glancing over their shoulders in panic.
Behind them, Nesta in his bright, flutteringkimonodartedafterthem, the sleeves snapping like banners with each stride. He wove through the chaos with effortless precision—vaulting over a toppled crate, twisting sideways between startled shoppers, never losing sight of the fleeing pair.
Vendors shouted, chickens burst from cages in a flurry of feathers, and a barrel of apples rolled wildly across the path as the chase carved a jagged line through the heart of the marketplace. The thieves barreled forward in desperation, but Nesta closed the distance step by step, his determination cutting through the noise like a drawn blade.
For a moment, all the market's clamor faded around them—just the pounding of feet, the bright flash of silk, and the widening realization on the thieves' faces that he was gaining.
"Give it back!"he shouted once again while throwing out his hand in a desperate attempt to catch on to the short man amongst the two of them. He was the one holding on to the item Nesta was looking for.
"Stay back! We will kill you if you continue to follow us"the man shouted out of desperation to get him off their tail.
Nestawith his full determination continued to give off the chase without thinking twice about the dangers lurking around the market. His mind was not ready to give up and so was his body which bolted endlessly without stop.
I can't fail! I can't fail her! I can't ...
The words repeated in his head like a mantra with each step he took towards the bandits. His heart continued to thump in his chest as his arms pumped harder than usual with his body leaning forward automatically. He experienced rapid breathing as everything came out in short, sharp gasps as his adrenaline spiked uncontrollably. His muscles tensed with his shoulders, jaws and hands clenching as he sprinted.
Faster! Faster!
He screamed to himself while quickening his steps once more to try and catch up to the robbers. Nesta lost grip of his sanity as he grabbed something from a shop without thinking and hurled it towards the one holding on to Clara's item. Looking closely at the item he had thrown, he gulped saliva upon coming to the realization that he had hurled a cobblestone towards the head of the shorter man.
The stone lefthishand with a sharp snap of muscle, spinning as it arced through the air. For a brief moment, it seemed to hangsuspended, defying gravity against the chatter and clatter of the market. Its weightybulk cut through the space between stalls, buffeting the warm, dust-laden air.
Merchants cried out as their baskets shook; a gust of displacedair rippled through hanging fabrics and straw mats. The stone spun, jagged edges glinting in the sunlight, each rotation catchingashardofreflection that momentarily blinded a nearby vendor.
As it approached, time seemedtoslowforthose in itspath. The sound of feet shuffling and chickens squawking blended with the low whistle of the stone slicing the air. It struck with brutalfinality, a hollow thud followed by shattering wood, upending a crate of apples, sending them bouncing across the cobblestones.
Dust and fragments rose like a small storm, blurringvision and creating a chaotic mosaic of flying fruit, splintered pottery, and startled faces. The force of the impact sent shockwavesthroughtheground, rattling neighboring stalls and echoing in the stone-paved alleys.
The stone itself came to rest among toppled goods, heavy and inert, but its moment of flight had already left a trail of chaos, fear, and adrenaline in the crowded market.
The were startled by chaos which unfolded at their backs. Nesta being the cause of it all ignored the glares and stares he was receiving from the people. He used it as an opportunity to reduce the distance between himself and that of the thieves.
The shorter thief upon seeing this bolted through a dark alleyway. The other one also followed inside leaving Nesta with nothing to do but to also enter the alley.The alley gaped like a jagged wound between the buildings, swallowing light and sound in its narrow, twisting corridor. Shadows pooled in every corner, shifting like living things, and the air smelled of damp stone, rotting wood, and something faintly metallic. Drips of water echoed against the cobblestones, each plink magnified in the silence, while a tangle of hanging lanterns swung lazily, their weak flames flickering like nervous eyes.
Trash and discarded crates lined the edges, creating hurdles for anyone bold—or desperate—enough to step inside. The walls pressed in, blackened with age, etched with peeling posters, and streaked with grime that seemed almost to whisper secrets to the darkness. Every step felt watched, every shadow a potential threat, and yet the alley beckoned with a strange allure: a shortcut, a hiding place, or a passage to who-knows-what.
It was the kind of alley that promised danger, mystery, and a story waiting to unfold—if you had the courage to follow it to the end.
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