'This is how I start? Most wanted? How is this even a trial?!'
Ren was taken aback by the brute's speech and, mostly, the picture. There was something off about it.
His dark hair wasn't short, it rested on his shoulders. There was a strange mark on his forehead, one he couldn't recall seeing before.
He instinctively touched his forehead and felt the rough patterns on it.
"This isn't real. This isn't real," Ren began whispering, with his eyes closed as he stepped back very slowly.
As much as he didn't want to believe it, he knew this was as real as it looked.
As he closed his eyes, trying to calm himself. A crimson light flickered in the darkness. Strings of words swam in his mind as if they were a display screen. One string of words arranged itself, and as it stopped dancing, he caught a glimpse of his name, "Ace Renora".
"Henna!"
The crimson strings vanished and his eyes were forced open.
"If you dare touch that dial you'll be serving your boss wherever she is," the brute man had his eyes on a young maid who had approached the dial. She stepped back, crying and shivering.
Several men stood up, drawing out knives, clubs, machetes and even guns, out of wherever they must've hidden them.
"Curse you, Bronso! He's mine!" Another man with a metal bat yelled from another corner of the pub.
Bronso scoffed.
"Gentlemen. Y'all should chill," a man with a cowboy hat stepped in between them, facing Ren directly. He flicked out two black revolver guns from his belt and pointed them at them.
"I'll take it from here. As consolation for finding this priceless bastard, I'll give you free drinks for the week and maybe a few dolls to play with."
'Hopefully, I get to kill you for your pride.' Ren shot him a sour look.
"To hell with your courtesy!" Bronso snarled at him. He took a spear from one of his escorts and took a stance. The man with the metal bat took a stance too and readied his bat in front of him.
The courteous gunman smirked, shaking his head, mocking their fierce resistance.
All the while, Ren was frozen at the spot, unsure whether to run or hide, cry or shout, or beg for his life.
'Living in a nightmare as a wanted criminal is even worse than being sick.'
The whole pub was eerily quiet and tense as everyone stood with their weapons ready, their eyes darting from the standoff trio at the front to Ren.
Then someone broke the silence. An older man with a machete yelled two tables away from Ren as he charged at him.
Bang!
He was taken down by a single bullet that sank into his skull. The gunman blew smoke off the nozzle of one of his revolvers in a way that added a dramatic effect to his perfect shot.
Bronso seized the opportunity and launched a spear at him. It flew towards the man like a lightning bolt but whooshed past him as he did a quick backflip. The spear drove through the chest of the Batter, pinning him to the ground.
The whole pub erupted in a clamour of men fighting each other just to lay their hands on a boy who didn't even know why they were after him in the first place.
'So much for wanting to get healed.' Ren gritted his teeth.
Seeing that Bronso and the Courteous Gunman were already fighting each other, he took his chance. His instincts marked them as the only two people to be wary of since everyone else in the room feared them.
He found the door behind him and rushed for it. Of course, it was an easy escape as everyone was busy fighting for control.
Outside, a soft breeze welcomed him. He sniffed in the air and it was much better than the air inside.
'It's been a while since I've breathed air this fresh. Is the sky always this beautiful?'
He was lost in awe, staring at the clear blue sky, until a loud crack broke that little moment.
Someone was tossed through the window... or rather, shot through the window. A barrel poked out of the cracked window. Ren gasped and zoomed to the other corner of the pub early enough to avoid getting hit. The bullet dug into the soft soil a foot away.
Ren waited, peeping to see whether the shooter had changed his mind or turned to face someone else. He heard a loud moan and a clatter. Peeping out, he spotted the shooter's upper body swinging from the window, blood dripping from his head. He knew he had just been given a second chance to escape, and hell, he wasn't going to waste it again.
'I'll watch the skies when I'm far away from these greedy bastards.'
He leapt out of his hiding spot and raced down the road just outside the pub.
It was one thing to escape, but it was another to escape in a place you had no knowledge of whatsoever.
He ran until his lungs burned and his feet threatened mutiny. Dust coated his feet up to his ankles, his heart still pounding with fear, as he ran down the road.
He finally halted to catch a breath. The wind whistled past, slithering through the cracked shutters of houses on the deserted road he had just run into. Shops stood half-collapsed, their wooden signs swaying weakly in the wind. There was no sound except the faint whoosh of the wind and the distant toll of a bell.
There was no single soul, except the crows that cried above him.
Ren wiped sweat and grime from his forehead, still feeling the faint roughness of the mark on his forehead.
'What was that I saw?'
His mind raced back to the strings of words he saw. He closed his eyes again, hoping he could summon it.
He saw nothing.
As he kept wondering how he was able to see the crimson strings, they flowed into his view again like a virtual screen with his eyes still open.
This time, the words arranged themselves revealing a detailed array on the screen.
"Name: Ace Renora
Status: Binged
Ranking: Pilgrim
Designation: The Incendiary Target, Fated Mortal, The Lost Light.
Core: Dormant
Special Core: None"
'What is this? That golden lady didn't mention this.'
Behind him, something clattered. Ren waved the words away.
He spun around and found a can rolling gently across the street. But there was no one around.
He moved cautiously down the street. A tattered poster fluttered past him, snagging against his leg. He picked it up. The same grayscale image he saw in the parchment Bronso held stared back at him.
MOST WANTED. How he hated that word.
Beneath it was written:
"Crimes: Burning of the Southgate, Treason, Manslaughter, Heresy.
Reward: 10,000 Royal Gold."
Ren's stomach dropped.
"Southgate?" he whispered. "What the hell is Southgate?"
"10,000 Royal Gold for... I've never killed anyone!"
"Is that what you always tell yourself? A kinda confirmation to keep you sane?"
His eyes shot out as he exhaled shakily. He knew that voice.
'Why didn't he just die?'
Ren cussed under his breath.
"Turn around so I can see that lovely face, lad."
Ren slowed turned, but before he could behold who was giving the command, he was knocked out.