Chapter 4: The Arsonist and the Law
BOOOOOOOM!!
The blast hit quite well. The pressure from the blast hit the iron gate behind him. But Draven did not look back. He had survived enough bombings to know there was nothing left up there to see.
'Let's get out of here!'
He looked down in his arms and looked at the delicate beauty covered in the dust and grime. She was covered in the severe wound marks. She looked like a delicate, crumpled flower.
'Why is she so heavy though? This body is seriously weak. The whole body is running on the adrenaline!'
They slid down the dark, mossy incline and crashed hard into the freezing water of the city's main sewer line.
Draven surfaced immediately, gasping. He coughed up a mouthful of murky water. His ears rang from the sudden pressure drop. His limbs felt entirely dead. Keeping the kinetic lift on Estella during the escape had pushed his current body past its breaking point.
Through the ringing in his ears, a series of blue screens flickered in his vision.
[Ding! Mass Elimination Confirmed!]
[Targets: 14 Cultist Guards (Level 8 to 15) neutralized.]
[Targets: 3 Acolyte Mutants (Level 18) neutralized.]
[Calculating Experience...]
[Level Up!]
[Level Up!]
[Level Up!]
[Level Up!]
[You have reached Level 7.]
The sheer amount of experience from wiping out the basement guards was staggering. Another screen popped up right after.
[Achievement Unlocked: Architect of Ruin]
[Title Earned: Arsonist]
[Effect: Increases kinetic impact damage by 10% when targeting structural weak points. Minor resistance to heat-based trauma.]
'Arsonist, huh?,' Draven thought. He was panting and looked quite exhausted. 'Sounds really Fitting. Well, considering the mess I just left behind. Thank God, it was not terrorist.'
He swayed his head and a realization struck him, 'Wait a minute! Arsonist is not any better! That's straight up Criminal! I literally blasted through the Terrorist Base and you call me the Arsonist?!'
He left that thought behind and moved on, "Let's save my ass first! I need to think of how to get my Life straight now. I have to think of this girl too, right now!"
He waded through the waist-deep water and dragged Estella toward a dry concrete maintenance walkway. He hoisted her up first, then pulled himself out, collapsing onto the hard ground. He was shivering violently. The cold air of the sewer was biting right through his wet, thin rags.
Beside him, Estella lay curled on her side. Her white hair was plastered to her face, and she was breathing in quick, panicked gasps.
"Are they gone?" she whispered.
"They are gone," Draven said. He forced himself to sit up. Though his muscles protested every inch of movement.
If muscles could speak, they would be like: "Stop it, you Motherfucker!! We need the Rest! Stop torturing us!"
Anyway, he looked at her, ignoring the pained muscles and answered her.
"The basement collapsed. Nobody is coming through that tunnel."
He looked at her. She was a shivering, exhausted mess. Draven moved closer and gently pushed a lock of wet hair from her face.
"Are you alright? How are you feeling right now?"
She flinched, bracing herself out of pure habit, but her eyes remained locked on his.
"W-what are you doing?"
"I need to check your arms," Draven said, keeping his voice steady and quiet. "I need to see if the bandages held up."
Estella nodded slowly. She let him inspect her wrists.
"The dark purple veins are still visible. But the good thing is they are not spreading."
The shock of the explosion seemed to have stalled the mana poisoning for now. He did not tell her that though.
'She will definitely panic if she knows that.'
"Looks stable," Draven muttered.
Estella watched him. He had just blown up a building, yet here he was, sitting in the mud of a sewer, checking her for scratches. No one in the Church had ever asked if she was hurt. They only asked if the sacrifice was ready to perform the ritual.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Draven just nodded. He opened his status window. He needed to fix his own body before he passed out from the cold and the fatigue.
[SYSTEM STATUS: DRAVEN MORDIS]
[Title: Arsonist]
[Level: 7]
[Experience: 450 / 2200]
[Attributes]
[Strength (STR): 4]
[Agility (AGI): 6]
[Vitality (VIT): 5]
[Intelligence (INT): 14]
[Perception (PER): 12]
[Stat Points Available: 15]
'Fifteen points.' He didn't overthink the distribution. He was a glass cannon in a world of monsters. He needed stamina and reflexes just to stay alive.
'Put five into Vitality, five into Agility, and five into Intelligence.'
The moment he confirmed the choices, the violent shivering stopped. A rush of heat flooded his chest. His heartbeat steadied, and the agonizing cramp in his back faded away. His vision sharpened in the dark.
[Updated Attributes]
[Strength (STR): 4]
[Agility (AGI): 11]
[Vitality (VIT): 10]
[Intelligence (INT): 19]
[Perception (PER): 12]
He stood up. He felt human again. He was still thin and weak, but he was capable of actually walking without his knees giving out. He offered Estella his hand and pulled her to her feet.
"We need to get above ground," Draven said. "The smoke is going to attract every Hunter in the district."
They walked down the concrete ledge for about twenty minutes before Draven spotted a rusted maintenance ladder leading up to a street drain. He climbed up, pushed the heavy iron cover aside, and checked the street.
It was an empty alley behind a row of industrial warehouses. The sky above was dark, lit only by the distant neon glow of the city and the massive plume of black smoke rising from the Church's location. The loud wail of sirens echoed from every direction.
"Come on," Draven whispered, helping her up out of the hole.
They took ten steps down the alley before the area lit up like daytime. A blinding white spotlight hit them dead center, pinning them against a brick wall.
"FREEZE! HUNTER POLICE!" a voice boomed from a megaphone at the end of the alley. "HANDS WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM!"
Draven squinted against the intense glare. He could make out three figures in heavy tactical gear blocking the exit. Their hands glowed with the distinct blue light of offensive magic. These were not regular beat cops. They were Combat Hunters.
"Draven," Estella gasped, shrinking behind him.
Draven looked at the Hunters. He could use his kinetic power to throw a dumpster at them or break the concrete under their boots. But fighting the police meant he would be a wanted criminal by morning. He would have no name, no money, and no safety.
'If I fight, we are dead or fugitives. If I play the victim, we get processed and protected. I need those papers if I am going to get anywhere near the Academy.'
Draven let his knees buckle. He dropped to the cold asphalt, pulling Estella down with him to shield her.
"Help us!" Draven yelled. He let his voice crack, letting all the genuine exhaustion of the night bleed into his words. "Please! The Church! They took us!"
He looked up at the Hunters, pointing a trembling hand back toward the column of black smoke.
"They were going to kill her," Draven pleaded. "I just wanted to get us out."
The Hunters hesitated. The offensive magic glowing in their hands dimmed slightly. They were looking at two starving, blood-soaked teenagers crying in an alleyway. To them, Draven was not a threat. He was just a terrified kid who had survived a nightmare.