The boy entered the next town at sunset.
He kept his head low.
Too many eyes. Too many people.
He moved slowly this time. Not because he wanted to—but because speed now felt dangerous.
That was new.
He felt it before he saw them.
Pressure.
Someone strong.
A man stood in the middle of the street, arms crossed. Tall. Calm. Smiling like he already knew the ending.
"You're late," the man said.
The boy stopped.
"…Do I know you?"
"No," the man replied. "But I know about you."
That answer was enough.
The boy turned and ran.
The man didn't chase.
He stepped once.
The ground cracked.
The boy felt it behind him—a heavy, crushing force.
Not normal.
He pushed harder.
Faster.
Roofs passed under his feet. Walls blurred. People screamed as the wind blasted past them.
He escaped.
Barely.
From a rooftop far away, the boy looked down, breathing hard.
This is bad, he thought.
This wasn't curiosity.
This was hunting.
That night, rumors spread.
"Did you hear? Someone faster than the eye."
"Crazy speed."
"Sounds valuable."
Coins changed hands.
Names were whispered.
In a quiet room, the trader sipped wine.
"Good," he said. "Very good."
He turned the map slightly.
"You're worth more now."
The boy clenched his fist.
Somewhere, somehow—
His location was being sold.
End of Chapter 8