Deep in the slums of Silverstar City, in corners even sunlight seemed to avoid, the buildings were more crowded and dilapidated. Crooked wooden shacks looked ready to collapse. The narrow paths were thick with mud and indescribable smells. Erik moved like a ghost, clinging to the shadows of the walls, struggling forward.
Every step sent sharp pain from his left arm and a dull ache in his chest, reminders of his body's limits. The cold went deep into his bones, making his teeth chatter uncontrollably. Hunger began to burn in his stomach. But he didn't dare stop. The image of the Judicature's black armor and the thug's nasty face flashed in his mind, the only things driving him forward.
Guided by fuzzy memory and instinct, he felt his way toward the base of the city wall. The rain had eased, but the clouds hung low, bringing an early twilight and deepening the shadows.
Finally, at the end of what seemed like a garbage dump, he found rough stone steps leading down, half-blocked by rotten timber and waste. A rusty iron sign was stuck crookedly at the entrance, its words long faded, only a downward arrow and a pattern like flowing water barely visible. A stronger, damp, rotten smell wafted up from below.
This was it. One of the rumored entrances to the "Shadowpaths"—a forgotten drain, said to lead outside the city.
*Hope it's not completely blocked.*
Erik looked around carefully. Seeing no one, he moved the obstacles aside and squeezed in.
The steps led steeply down, plunging him into near-total darkness. Only the faint grey light from the entrance above outlined the slippery steps. The air was cold, thick, and almost choking. Water dripped from cracks in the ceiling.
He took a deep breath of the cold, moldy air, forcing himself to adjust to the dark, and felt his way down. The ground under his feet was slimy and suspicious. He didn't want to think about what he was stepping in.
The sound of flowing water grew louder as he descended. Finally, his foot found flat ground. Icy, dirty water immediately rose past his ankles. He was in a wide but low brick tunnel. Murky water flowed slowly, carrying disgusting debris.
*Follow the water flow. That should lead outside.*
The darkness swallowed everything. Only the endless black and the echo of water remained. He kept one hand on the cold, slimy wall, trudging painfully through the water, each step a huge effort. His injured body and the icy water drained what little strength he had left.
He lost all sense of time in the absolute dark. Just as his legs felt like heavy lead, ready to collapse into the filthy water, a tiny pinprick of light appeared far ahead.
An exit?
Hope flared, giving him new strength. He moved faster, stumbling toward the light.
The light grew larger, becoming a fuzzy arched outline. The rotten smell in the air seemed weaker, mixed with the scent of fresh rain and earth.
Yes! An exit!
But as he got closer, hope was quickly replaced by caution. There were voices and the flicker of firelight near the exit!
He stopped immediately, held his breath, pressed into the shadows, and listened.
"...Damn this weather, stuck guarding this rat hole," a complaining voice said, followed by the light sound of armor.
"Quit whining. Orders from the Chief Justiciar himself. All possible holes out of the city must be watched. Heard the one who got away is tough. Pulled some flying stunt at the academy tower," another, calmer voice replied.
City guards! Or Judicature troops! They had blocked it!
Erik's heart sank. He peeked out cautiously.
The exit was blocked by a temporary iron grate. A campfire burned outside it. Two soldiers in imperial leather armor and waterproof cloaks leaned against the grate, sheltering from the rain and complaining. Further away, he could see their camp.
Breaking through was impossible. In his condition, he couldn't fight one ordinary soldier.
Go back into the endless dark sewers to find another exit that might not exist? He'd never make it. He was too tired.
Despair washed over him again.
Then, his eyes scanned the walls near the exit. Old age and water damage had loosened the parts where the grate was set into the stone. Especially in the lower right corner, a brick had broken away, leaving a narrow gap. Dirty water trickled out through it.
The gap was small, but... maybe...
A crazy idea formed.
He took a deep breath and slowly crouched down. The icy water rose to his chest. The bitter cold almost made him scream. He clenched his teeth, forced himself to bear it, and felt the gap with his hand.
It was narrower than it looked, lined with sharp碎石 (broken stone). He tried to push his head through, but his shoulders got stuck hard.
The soldiers outside were still complaining, their voices close.
No time!
He took a sharp breath and submerged completely into the filthy, freezing water! The world was instantly darkness and stench. Eyes shut, guided by feel, he twisted his body desperately, squeezing toward the gap!
Sharp stones scraped his skin. Icy, dirty water rushed into his nose and mouth, nearly choking him. His injured left arm was squeezed hard; the pain nearly made him black out. But he didn't stop. Instinct drove him forward like a desperate eel, scrambling to get out!
His lungs burned. Stars flashed before his eyes.
Just as he thought he would drown in this filth, his body suddenly broke free!
He'd made it!
Half his body was out of the grate, lying in a puddle outside. He lifted his head, gasping for the cold, fresh air, coughing violently, spitting out the filthy water he'd swallowed.
"What was that?!" a soldier by the fire was alerted by the splashing sound. He stood up警惕地 (warily), looking over.
Terrified, Erik used his last bit of strength to pull his trapped leg free. He scrambled and crawled into the thick bushes outside the exit, pressing himself flat into the mud, not daring to move.
"Sounded like a splash. Something came out of the drain?" One soldier held a torch, walking to the grate to peer inside. The firelight showed his confused face.
"Probably just a water rat. Or some washed-up trash," the other soldier said, less concerned. "Who else would be stupid enough to come out here but us?"
"Guess so..." the torch-bearing soldier muttered. He poked his sword into the water, found nothing unusual, and turned back. "Damn disgusting."
Erik lay in the cold mud, his heart pounding wildly. Only when the soldiers' footsteps faded and low conversation resumed by the fire did he dare lift his head slightly.
He was out.
He had escaped Silverstar City.
He was now in a desolate riverbank area outside the city's high walls. Behind him was the huge, beast-like outline of the wall in the dusk. In front was the wide, rushing moat, its water grey and choppy in the rain. Beyond that, a dark, endless wilderness shrouded in rain and mist.
The cold, hunger, pain, and exhaustion—all hit him at once, threatening to overwhelm him.
He looked back at the massive city. It held his brief time at the academy, and his family and future, shattered in an instant. A small spark of hatred burned in his icy chest.
Then, he turned around. Without hesitation, stumbling, he threw himself into the endless darkness and unknown ahead.
The rain began to fall harder.