"Pah."
Luciel brushed the dust from his palms with a casual clap, his voice faintly amused.
"So many bells and whistles," he muttered. "Guess the army's killing techniques are still the most practical after all."
"Die!"
Blood Knife let out a savage roar and swung his massive blade down at Luciel.
Whizz!
A streak of silver flashed through the air.
An arrow tore across the battlefield, embedding itself cleanly in the side of Blood Knife's neck.
"Uhh—uh…"
Blood Knife stumbled two steps forward, clutching at the wound as blood poured through his fingers.
Then his knees buckled, and he collapsed face-first onto the dirt.
"Retreat!" Yezaha shouted, panic twisting his face.
He spun around and bolted down the alley, dragging the surviving thieves behind him.
But they didn't make it far.
A few breaths later—
"Ahhh!"
Several screams echoed from deep within the street, abruptly silenced by the sound of blades cutting through flesh.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
