"The little thief finally stopped running."
Forn's large frame stood at the mouth of the alleyway with a crooked grin. The hefty men behind him spread out lazily, cracking their knuckles as a menacing aura filled the narrow path.
"Shit…" Tobias muttered, his face paling. As the capital of the South, the average power level here couldn't be compared to reclusive villages like Pulsegrove.
He had no idea how strong the hooded man was, but Forn was at Mark Five, while his subordinates were all Mark Four.
At a glance, Tobias could tell the man wore a rather high-quality cloak and carried himself with dignity, but raw power decided everything in the slums.
'What should I do?'
