Immediately after entering, Sancho's vision became completely obscured by the consuming darkness; the only source of light in these catacombs came from the burning torches on the wall, which were equally spaced out from one another. He moved gingerly through the endlessly turning, narrow tunnels, so as to avoid making too much noise. The stone ground he was walking on had a consistent flow of water running over it, which covered his shoes and dampened his socks. Yet, even with his careful steps, he could not help but make faint splashes in the water, each tiny movement producing an endless supply of ripples.
Upon entering the tunnels initially, Sancho could hear the short man dashing away quickly through the waters, and he made an attempt to follow as closely behind as possible; but now, all sounds of the man's movements had stopped, and Sancho was unsure of where he had run to. He was certain, however, that he was following in the same footsteps as his target, for he had been manoeuvring through the tunnels with his hands sweeping along the edges of the curved walls, and made all the necessary turns when they approached. He had not detoured from the guiding path and was walking in the only possible direction that the man could have run through. He grew more nervous the longer he walked, and the looming idea of being attacked from within the darkness grew to unprecedented heights. Was it too late to turn back and seek help? Soon, his legs would begin to stiffen, and his heart would drop to his stomach, causing his whole body to shake with nervousness.
After a short while longer, he was met with a pleasant, reassuring sign: light. From further down the tunnel was a large, open room, illuminated mostly by a light from above. Never before had he been so relieved to see the thick beams of the sun come hailing down and ignite the darkness. Furthermore, the light had spread into the rest of the catacombs, exposing the space where the tunnel he was in expanded slightly to form the entrance of the lit room. Although the water continued to devour his feet, he waddled briskly towards the light, eager to meet it, until a quiet cry came before him. In fact, it was more of a squeal. Sancho stopped dead, whilst the sound of scurrying and splashing played about in the water. As the splashing continued, he could begin to see a small figure charging towards the light; there was no doubt in his mind that this was the man he was pursuing.
'HEY, GET BACK HERE!' he yelled as he resumed his chase. His presence had already been made known to the man; he did not fear making noise as he ran.
As he entered the large, lit room, he could not help but feel a strong ambience around him. He looked at what lay in front of him: the end of the room was made visible from the light, its large wall towering over him, and he could see that above him in the centre of the room sat a massive metal disk, its circumference wide enough for nearly ten people to walk across. It was like a titanic manhole cover but with extra gaps for light to pass through. A very faint sound of voices could be heard from above, as well as the sound of horses' hooves clambering across the stone roads. Sancho suspected that his long, fearful travels through the tunnels had led him to somewhere more central within the city.
'SECOND HAND!' a voice yelled from behind him.
Suddenly, a powerful force crashed into Sancho's back, pushing him forward and into the water. His face became submerged in the shallow murkiness of the grim tunnel waters, and a sickening feeling began to boil in his stomach as large quantities entered his mouth. He had been struck completely off-guard, a dirty trick that targeted his exposed back. The impact was reminiscent of when he had been hit in the marketplace by the man; the same prickly pain he had felt then was now pulsing inside him again. And, since he had not guarded himself with spirit, he had taken the power of the push at full force.
Sancho stammered back onto his feet, his spine cracking as he readjusted his posture, when the same adolescent voice cried out, 'SECOND HAND!' Yet, Sancho's reflexes were still intact, and he could not continue to allow his opponent the luxury of landing cheap blows.
'LOYAL SQUIRE,' Sancho yelled out with all his might, turning to face the entrance and the source of the voice. As he did so, a mannequin-like figure appeared behind him. It was completely wooden and bare, exposing its joints and different attached parts, as if taken from an artist's desk. It was slightly taller than Sancho and wide in its frame, making it a wall that completely covered Sancho's rear.
A shockwave, produced from the short man's projection, flew through the air and towards Sancho. Violent gusts of wind followed behind it, causing the water below to spew out and ripple across the room. Sancho crossed his arms to cover his face from the incoming shockwave. Yet, once the shockwave met Sancho's defensive stance, it stopped and dissolved into the air. He was not pushed back, nor did he feel its destructive power upon impact; it simply faded into nothing.
'HUH! HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE!' the high-pitched voice shouted. The man whom Sancho had been pursuing was strategically situated on top of a protruding ledge above the entrance to the room. Its stone body glistened in the light, showcasing its moist surface. Cracks ran all over, and they provided little space; yet, the man's small stature allowed him to squat on the peak with ease.
'Oh, there you are. You know, it's kinda rude to attack people from behind, especially when hiding in the shadows.'
The man lowered one of the bandage-like pieces of fabric from his face and revealed his thin, pale lips. He proceeded to stick his tongue out and blow until he spat everywhere. 'SHUT UP! IT DOESN'T MATTER WHERE I AM, I'LL STILL BEAT YOU.'
Sancho was immediately met with confusion. The way this guy was acting, the way his voice was unusually high, and the short glimpse he got of the man's tiny, clean face in the beams of light, made him reconsider who his opponent was.
'Say, you're kinda… small for an adult, aren't you?'
'HUH, WHAT'S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?'
'What I mean is, you're not an adult at all, are you. You're just a kid.'
The man recoiled in shock, almost slipping from the tiny ledge. 'W-WHAT? I'M NO KID, I'M AN ADULT!'
Sancho burst out in laughter. The 'man' cried out in an upset mood, trying to justify his identity, but Sancho did not hear any of it. Tears formed in his eyes, and his stomach cramped as he bent over in hysterics. Eventually, the boy had had enough. He clenched his fist as tightly as possible, allowing for an above-average quantity of spirit to flow between his fingers. He could feel his power boiling up: it was ready to burst. He separated his fiercely clenched teeth and yelled, 'SECOND HAND!'
Immediately, Sancho stopped laughing and focused his eyes on the incoming shockwave. He noticed that this projectile was travelling at immense speeds, and causing the wind to outline its silhouette: a hand with its open palm facing towards him. He was surprised that this child, whom he was certain was, in fact, a child, possessed such immense power and speed in his attack. Although the attack lacked a high volume of spirit, its impact was still damaging to one who was left unguarded against it. He was quite surprised at the boy's skill.
As the shockwave closed in, Sancho turned to his side and guarded himself with his right arm, his mannequin mirroring his movements. The shockwave came into contact with his entire arm, its surface slightly increasing just before impact to cover a larger range. Yet, it was futile for it did not affect Sancho in the slightest. Sancho could tell that the boy placed more spirit into this attack, as it left a very slight fuzziness in his arm, but it was still fruitless against Sancho's projection.
'H-HOW?! HOW DIDN'T YOU FALL OVER?'
Typically, in a regular fight, Sancho would not reveal a definitive answer to such a question, as it would expose his projection's fundamental technique. Yet, he did not consider this boy a real threat as he stood; it was clear that he was scared of Sancho. Therefore, he humoured the boy.
'My projection, Loyal Squire, acts as a shield against incoming attacks. It essentially takes any damage I would receive and nullifies it. Then, it takes that damage and transforms it into armour.' The mannequin raised its arms, revealing to the boy a new, shiny set of armour in the places where the shockwaves had hit Sancho. The right arm was now completely coated in armour, whilst the left arm had only the forearm protected. The armour looked as if it had been stolen directly from a knight's armoury; its finely crafted material and pattern shone like a star under the light. 'Something cool happens when the entire mannequin is covered, but that's a surprise, so I can't tell,' he said, winking.
The boy stared in awe during Sancho's explanation; something about his projection and the armour seemed really cool to him, and left him wanting to examine it with wonder-filled eyes. 'So coooool!' he whispered under his breath. But then he shook his head in conflict, as if trying to refocus his mind back to his original plan of action. 'I MEAN, I'LL STILL BEAT YOU! I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR… S-STUPID PROJECTION ANYWAY!'
Then, the boy launched three consecutive attacks: the first, Sancho blocked with his left arm, allowing his mannequin's arm to be coated, the second and third he blocked with his feet. Now, only his body, thighs and head were left still unprotected.
'Are you sure you wanna keep doing that? Listen, kid, just hand over the amulet, and I'll let you go, okay?'
A cheeky smile twisted in the corners of the boy's mouth. He reached into his baggy robes and pulled out the amulet, which he had tied around his neck. As he swung it back and forth, the light from the ceiling refracted through the red crystal, projecting beams of ruby light across the room's walls. 'You mean this amulet?'
'Yes! Now hand it over, and we can all leave happy and in one piece.'
The boy pretended to be in deep thought and consideration, 'hmmm, I think… NO!'
Sancho clenched his fist, 'why you little-'
The boy was now the one to laugh in hysterics at Sancho, occasionally sticking his tongue out and spitting at him. Sancho began to grow angry and prepared to jump at the boy, taking the amulet by force, but without hurting him, of course. Then, suddenly, the back wall behind Sancho exploded into millions of pieces, each piece flying in every direction possible. It came with a loud, destructive thunder, which caused Sancho to turn his back and the boy to stop laughing. The entire wall had been destroyed, despite its heavy reinforcement and colossal size. He could see that something equally as big was charging through it; it moved at an alarming rate and had eyes that were as red as blood. A rat the size of a small house was coming straight for him, and he had no time to move out of its way.