Meanwhile, the clash between Elias and the other men continued in the narrow street beside the smoking wreckage, where shadows from the broken carriage flickered against the cobblestones.
Elias moved with precision, his blade gleaming in the fractured daylight, but the men who came at him were not bound by precision. They were bound by fury.
The first lunged like a beast unchained, his teeth bared, dagger flashing with no rhythm and only madness. Elias sidestepped, letting steel ring against steel, then twisted, aiming for the man's ribs. The blade bit in, shallow but sure. Any trained soldier would have staggered, fallen back. Not this man. He roared, froth at his lips, and shoved forward, the wound ignored as though his blood were fire in his veins.
The crowd gasped, recoiling.
