Two days had passed, and the Land of Thieves was on the horizon. Yogi made no more attempts at trying to invade Nero, for they were wholly shaken at his ability to see through the Central Introspection. Yogi stated that that had never happened before, and that it shouldn't happen ever. The third eye technique is one that can see all through a lens that is invisible to others; yet, Nero looked at it directly, as if aware of its presence, and spoke out to it. Ignorant of how this was accomplished, the party agreed that invading him further may entail unnecessary, and possibly fatal consequences; Alonso even suspected that the eye was acting as a simple pane of glass for Nero, instead of its usual two-way mirror format.
Giorgio was shaken by the voice of Nero, which spoke and addressed him, seemingly coming from within his own mind. He wondered if Nero had grown stronger since the last time he was seen publicly using his projection: perhaps his arsenal of techniques had expanded beyond imagination. In every battle Giorgio had been in prior to his encounter with Eos, he had always been certain of victory. It was simply his nature to be self-assured and self-reliant, believing he could achieve anything. But now, he could not help but feel completely outmatched against Nero, who possessed unbelievable power over everyone. He hoped that, along this journey to Mont Klein and Paramount Manor, he could become stronger, strong enough to rival his dearest friend and kill him if all else were to fail.
As the ferry began to slow and position itself to be in line with the port's harbour, the party gathered on the deck. The port was horrendous in every way, especially when compared to that of the city from which they had departed. There was a clear plague of homelessness in the city, made obvious even before setting foot on its grounds. People had found shelter in the crevices of buildings and shacks, some even hiding behind stalls, just out of sight of the customers. A potent fragrance of fish, faeces, and steam had an unavoidable presence in the air. Even when looking beyond this unappealing dock, it was soon made apparent that this was a perfect representation of the wider city.
Giorgio wore a face of pure distress; he stretched his face high and low, exposing the lower parts of his eyeballs, and contorting his lips in peculiar shapes. 'I must be dreaming, please tell me I'm dreaming!'
'You weren't lying,' Alonso said, turning to Yogi, 'this place really is hell.'
'Indeed, it is truly devastating. I have sympathy for all these poor souls… they have been forced from their homes, and must watch as others tarnish it as they walk carelessly.'
The ferry stopped at the port, and a large wooden structure was lowered onto the ground, acting as a bridge for the passengers to descend. Giorgio's sense of adventure had become slightly convoluted upon viewing the Land of Thieves, but as soon as his foot was placed on the rocky surface of the port's ground, he regained some spirit, and his excitement partially returned. He had taken the lead of the group who tried to follow closely, weaving between the swarm of passengers who were now heading towards the port exit. They heard endless complaints of passing passengers, discussing the disappointing appearance and atmosphere of the city.
Once out of the port's district and onto the city street, Giorgio looked back and saw that his companions had fallen behind. He moved to the side, out of the other passengers' way, and waited.
'Good grief, take your time; we're only in a life or death scenario here.'
Yogi leaned in to Alonso's ear and spoke in a whisper, 'is he always this-'
'Insufferable? Arrogant? Yes.'
'Okay, now you're all here, we know what to do, right? said Giorgio.
'Find the Santa Grenin plaza, and try to get into the apartment Nero was in.' They all agreed and shook their heads in compliance.
'There is no doubt Nero has already left, so we should be able to enter without struggle-' As Yogi spoke, a short man hit into him, almost knocking him over.
'Hey, watch it!' Alonso cried after the man, helping Yogi back onto his feet.
'Wait, isn't that the same guy from the dock-'
'My amulet! My amulet is gone!'
Giorgio could see the man's step increase dramatically into a run. 'Sancho, run around that block and try to cut him off!' They both split up and dashed as fast as possible to try to catch the man. The further Giorgio progressed through the street, the larger the sea of people became. He grabbed onto the shoulders to try and politely manoeuvre between them, but his desperation caused him to start shoving, as the man's figure began to fade into the crowd. He could see, however, that the man was heading in Sancho's direction, and he regained some confidence in his capture. After a short chase, Giorgio had lost the man to the crowd, yet did not give up. Instead, he surveyed his surroundings and tried to look for a vantage point. He now found himself in the centre of a marketplace; stalls sat all around him, selling miscellaneous items and food. Then, he spotted a high stack of crates under a towering lamppost and began to climb it. His vertical jump from the crates to the overarching head of the lamppost was extraordinary and garnered some wonderstruck eyes. Whilst balancing carefully, yet almost effortlessly, on top of the lamppost, he could see the man. He moved quickly and mischievously, slipping through the sea of legs like butter. Now that his position was found, Giorgio planned on descending back to the ground and resuming chase, but then, he saw Sancho appear in front of the man, emerging seemingly from nowhere.
The short man stopped abruptly as Sancho slowly closed in, his arms stretched wide as if trying to prevent a child from running away. 'Give up the amlet, it's over.'
Perspiration fell between the folds in the man's facial coverings, and he looked longingly at something to his right. His gaze was calculating, yet also extremely frantic and desperate; his wide eyes showed distress. Then he relaxed and looked at Sancho with pupils in the shape of stars. Sancho immediately recognised the sign in his eyes, but could not react quickly enough. Suddenly, a powerful force slammed into him and pushed him onto his back. It was an extremely quick motion that could be produced only by a projection.
The short man wasted no time removing himself from Sancho's presence; he ran to his right at an even quicker pace. Sancho had been caught off guard, yet rose to his feet as soon as possible, managing to regain his conscience immediately.
'Get back here!' he cried. His annoyance was now acting as the driving force for his speed, increasing with every step. The number of people began to decrease here as they approached the end of the street. A wide river was slowly revealed upon the horizon, which separated the city into two parts. They were connected by two bridges, which were spacious enough to allow the dual traffic of carriages and people to pass across.
Yet, the man was not heading for a bridge. Instead, his course remained steadfast in its straightforward direction. The only thing in front of him was the short stone wall that acted as the border to separate the street from the imposing, neighbouring river. It sat at just above waist height and shared the same finely crafted pattern that could be seen along the bridge walls.
The only thing Sancho could think of was that the thief would change course suddenly at the last second, allowing Sancho to close in prior, and causing him to fall over the wall. Yet, this is not what happened. Instead, Sancho watched as the small man leapt over the wall and, supposedly, into the river. He was shocked, and his reaction remained locked in a surprised face as he carefully bent over the wall. Initially, he assumed that the fall from the wall would be grand and lead directly into the deep, calming river. Yet, he had heard no splash; instead, he was met with an anticlimactic drop, around a mere thirteen or fourteen feet in height, with a muddy surface to cushion it. It seemed as though the river here was quite shallow, and the surface of mud had been formed into a walkable plot; it is possible that this mud was just a thick covering over a previously built piece of stone pavement.
Sancho noticed that the man had recovered from the short fall and left his position. But, strangely, the footprints that he had left in the viscous mud wandered to a position under Sancho's current placement on the pavement. He considered only one explanation for these mysteriously led prints: there must be a hidden walkway underneath the city streets. Unlike Giorgio, Sancho did not fear getting his clothes dirty, which allowed him to descend into the mud below without care. His shoes sank low into the mud, which quickly began to swarm him and reconstruct the dent he had left upon impact. As he arose and struggled to remove his shoes from the mud's relentlessly strong hold, he could see clearly that the prints did, in fact, have a clear path, which would ultimately lead to a desired location. In front of him stood a stone archway with a metal gate left wide open, stuck in place by the mud. The footprints led directly towards the archway, which stared back at Sancho ominously. A strange aura was emitted from its pitch-black entrance and sent a shiver down Sancho's spine. He felt like turning back and reuniting with the others, yet he knew that if he did so, a great feeling of shame would overcome him, making him seem both useless and pitiful to his teammates. He did not want his fears to overcome him and dictate his actions. Therefore, he clenched his fists with as much vigour as he could muster and started for the mysteriously hidden entrance.