The train screeched to a halt at the edge of the eastern boundary just as the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in bruised purples and oranges. Shawn and Rohan stepped onto the platform, their eyes immediately drawn to the map. The glowing point was nearby, pulsing with a restless energy.
As they followed the signal, the clean streets of the city center gave way to cracked pavement and flickering streetlamps. Eventually, they found themselves at the mouth of the slums.
"Is this right?" Shawn asked, his brow furrowed as he stared at the maze of cramped shanties and narrow, dark alleys.
"He's in there? I thought we were looking for a powerful deity mage—why would he be living in a place like this?"
Groups of men leaned against the rusted walls, their gazes sharp and unwelcoming as they tracked the two well-dressed newcomers.
"Let's wait until morning to search properly," Rohan suggested, his hand subtly catching Shawn's arm to guide him away. "We should find an inn first."
They found a small, weathered guesthouse nearby. The clerk behind the desk looked them up and down, her eyes lingering on their expensive shoes. "Sirs, you should head back to the city center," she warned, sliding a registry book toward them. "This area isn't fit for people of your status. It's dangerous after dark."
"Don't worry," Rohan said, his voice dropping into a calm, confident tone that bordered on a command. "We can manage."
"Yeah," Shawn added, trying to match Rohan's coolness. "We'll be fine."
The clerk didn't argue further. She simply handed them two heavy brass keys and went back to her ledgers. Exhausted from the journey, Shawn barely made it to his room before collapsing onto the bed and falling into a deep sleep.
In the dead of night, a scratching sound pulled Shawn from his dreams. At first, he thought it was rats, but as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he saw a small silhouette hovering over his luggage.
"Hey! Thief!" Shawn roared.
The child jumped, nearly tripping over the bag, and bolted for the open window.
"Hey! Come back here!" Shawn scrambled out of bed just as his door was kicked open. Rohan stood there, alert and ready.
"Ro, watch the room!" Shawn shouted, already half-way out the window. "That brat got my wallet!"
The chase led them across the uneven rooftops of the slums. The kid was fast, darting through narrow gaps and leaping over obstacles like he knew every loose tile in the city. Shawn struggled to keep up, his boots slipping on the corrugated metal. He toyed with the idea of using his Earth mana to trip the boy, but he checked himself—he wouldn't risk hurting a child or exposing his secret for a leather wallet.
Eventually, they dropped into a secluded courtyard deep within the heart of the slum. Shawn skidded to a halt, finding himself surrounded by six large men who seemed to materialize from the shadows.
The clouds parted, allowing the moonlight to illuminate a figure sitting atop a pile of old wooden crates. The man had vibrant, flame-red hair that seemed to glow under the moon's pale light.
"Who are you?" Shawn demanded, catching his breath. "Are you with that kid? Tell him to give back my wallet."
"Oh, you mean this?" The red-haired man smirked, tossing the wallet into the air and catching it with practiced ease.
"Give it back. There are things in there I can't replace."
"If it was so important, you should've guarded it better," the man countered, his voice dripping with arrogance.
"Return it now," Shawn warned, his voice lowering, "before you regret it."
The man let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Oh, I'm shaking. Well, finders keepers. It's mine now." He hopped off the crates and began to walk toward a crumbling house, gesturing for his men to deal with the intruder.
The six men lunged at once. Shawn didn't hesitate. Even without magic, he was a trained combatant. He dodged a wild swing, countered with a swift kick to the gut, and used his momentum to sweep the legs of another. Within minutes, the six men were groaning on the dirt floor.
The red-haired man stopped in his tracks, his smirk vanishing as he looked back at his defeated crew. Gritting his teeth, he whistled, and ten more men poured out from the shadows.
The second fight was harder, but Shawn's resolve was iron. He moved with a focused intensity, his movements efficient and brutal. When the last of the ten fell, the red-haired man stepped forward, his eyes burning with a sudden, dangerous light.
"Enough!" he barked. "He's out of your league. I'll handle this myself."
He took a fighting stance, and for a moment, the air around him seemed to shimmer with heat. They exchanged a flurry of punches and kicks, but Shawn's training was superior. As Shawn lunged forward to deliver a finishing blow, the man's temper finally snapped.
His eyes bled into a fiery, glowing red.
"Get back!" Shawn yelled, throwing himself backward as a burst of intense heat exploded from the man. Coils of actual flame danced around the stranger's arms.
"You're a mage?" Shawn gasped, staring at the fire-wielder.
"You've seen too much," the red-haired man hissed, his voice distorted by rage. "I can't let you leave here alive."
He launched a ball of fire at Shawn's head. Shawn slammed his palms against the ground, and a wall of packed earth rose just in time to absorb the impact.
"Well, well," the man sneered, his flames growing brighter. "A fellow 'monster.' No wonder you were so cocky."
"Wait!" Shawn shouted over the roar of the fire. "I have questions! Do you have a Deity Mark?"
"A what? I don't care about your riddles! Die!"
He attacked again, more viciously this time. Shawn stayed on the defensive, unwilling to hurt someone who might be a brother. But the red-haired man was losing control. His mana was peaking, threatening to explode and take the entire block with it.
Just as Shawn prepared to use a high-level earth binding to stop him, a streak of white-blue light blurred past his vision.
In the blink of an eye, Rohan appeared behind the fire mage. He moved with the grace of a falling feather, yet when he placed a hand on the man's shoulder, the fire-wielder collapsed to his knees as if crushed by an invisible weight. The raging flames died instantly, leaving only smoke.
Shawn stood frozen. He had never seen Rohan use his power before—it was fast, silent, and terrifyingly efficient.
"Stop it now, Tycen," Rohan said softly.
The man—Tycen—gasped for air, his red eyes fading back to brown. "Who... who are you? How do you know my name?"
Rohan didn't answer. He simply maintained his hold, his expression unreadable.
"Ro! You made it," Shawn said, hurrying over. He looked at Tycen, then at the map in his head. "This is him. He's the one."
"I know," Rohan replied.
"Hey," Shawn said, kneeling in front of Tycen. "Will you listen to us now? We aren't your enemies. We're like you."
Tycen scoffed, looking away, but his bravado was gone.
Suddenly, the child thief ran out from the shadows, tears streaming down his face. He grabbed the hem of Shawn's shirt, trembling.
"Please, sir! Don't hurt Brother Tycen! I stole the wallet, not him! I'll give it back—just punish me, please! Don't hurt him!"