Ren's boots scraped across the ground as he came into view again, stepping into the open street before the battered remains of the district office.
The soldiers that were still standing, the ones who hadn't chased him into the alleys earlier, froze at the sight.
They hadn't heard anything, as the silence was blanketing everything. All they knew was that they'd seen their comrades vanish one wave at a time. But they hadn't expected him to come back.
Instead, there was the same person in front of them, covered in the blood of their comrades.
This time, there was no eagerness to chase him. Only grim, wary silence. They tightened their ranks, shields coming up, spears lowering.
Ren rolled his shoulders, the tattered remains of his cloak shifting against his back, his hands tightening on the hilts of his swords.
