CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Tatsuya was sure they didn't know he was an air elemental as his eyes had been hidden from view—not to mention the hood of his cloak and bandages prevented much of his features from being seen—and so, as the stocky guard’s hands wrapped around one bag of cowries (amidst the many he carried), he took action—quickly inhaling a deep breath and, jerking his shoulders forward, releasing it as a powerful gust of wind towards those at his front. They went sprawling on the ground in a mess of tangled limbs and confused (then, upon realisation) furious shouts while Tatsuya was knocked back into the stocky guard and others behind him, propelling them all into the vault's iron door.

Taking advantage of the moment of respite, he gritted his teeth in preparation for the incoming pain and—doggedly pushing himself past the limits of his exhausted and abused body— leaped, using his hands to claw at the walls and feet to bound off it.

Unbidden, tears pricked at the corner of his eyes at the tearing sensation on his back, but the exhilaration he felt—at using his element in the purest way it was meant to be used: in perfect harmony with his physical skills to outmanoeuvre his foes, to evade their attempts—tempered it somewhat as he twisted and turned his body, evading the guards' grasping hands and the blasts of fire that they sent his way. He could feel the heat of the flames on his skin, but he refused to let it slow him down as he used every inch of the passageway to his advantage.

A laugh bubbled out of him as he flipped through the air and landed gracefully on his feet, narrowly avoiding a particularly close grab, but the guards were not so easily deterred; they were skilled elementals in their own right, and some knew how to anticipate Tatsuya’s every move. As he leaped towards one of them, they sent a bolt of lightning his way, and his heart skipped a beat as he was forced to change direction mid-air, narrowly avoiding the deadly blast.

Each movement was calculated and precise, but he knew he couldn't keep this up forever. He was outnumbered and in a worse state, and eventually, he would falter, and the guards, hot on his heels and their eyes filled with anger and determination, would catch up to him. But he refused to give up.

As Tatsuya cleared the distance to the exit, he saw a guard blocking his path. His eyes zeroed in on their fist, noticing how their arm stiffened and water lengthened to an arc in their front as they flexed their muscles to swing. He read the energy in their posture and judged his timing, and by a stroke of luck, he was faster than them by a mere margin.

The flat of his knuckles blasted the guard in the solar plexus; their shoulders rolled forward, and their body seemed to curl around his extended arm; the water attack swung past his ear, and they went sprawling backward, slamming harshly with the floor.

However, due to the altercation, the guards chasing him were getting closer. One’s hand, armoured and warm, clamped tight around his wrist, their breath hot on his neck, and he reacted instinctively. Turning on the spot, a sharp jerk of his hand sent the guard violently slamming against the wall, and the kickback propelled him to the floor.

A dagger clattered by him, and recovering quickly (though he stumbled in his haste), he picked it up just in time as another guard was almost upon him. The weapon flashed high and was plunged into their throat, cutting through the meagre defence their clothing afforded easily—and Tatsuya didn't wait for them to collapse before he continued to push himself onward, using every skill and trick at his disposal to stay one step ahead, until he burst out of the passageway and into the open air.

Even as a sense of triumph threatened to bowl him over, he retained enough composure to maintain his balance on the shaking ground and avoid the boulders hurled at him, using the air to blow the few he couldn't dodge off course.

The earth elementals, now with access to their element, were unyielding in their assault; walls of stone rose to block the sky, converging on his location, and each dodged attack cracked the ground beneath his feet. It was all he could do to survive, showcasing impressive displays of acrobatic flexibility and combat reflexes, utilising a great deal of his experience to compensate for his body’s weakness.

However, there was a silver lining. Buildings dotted their surroundings, and any unrestrained earth manipulation could lead to the death of stupidly curious villagers (too enraptured to protect themselves) and the loss of properties, so the guards tried their best to mitigate damage and keep the action within a certain, safe vicinity. Still, there were too many attacks, and the available space was enough for them to start boxing him in.

Tatsuya couldn’t keep jumping away as he was already deeply exhausted, nor could he go close and stop the barrage, and now they were converging at him from all sides.

He panicked; baser instincts took over as his raw desire to survive at all costs overrode all conscious thoughts, and he found himself deliberately diving into the midst of nearby villagers. Pandemonium ensued nigh-immediately as eyes widened collectively at him, and hands were raised to attack or defend. With no guard in the position to calm the erratic villagers, the majority of them were caught smack-dab in the crossfire; the afternoon was consumed with shrieks as elements and fists tore through the air, eliciting more screams and reactions to protect themselves, and it wasn't long before the villagers were too far gone, lost in a frenzy of violence.

Bodies dropped like marionettes with their strings cut, and the ground was stained a vivid red as blood pooled around them. Screams increased in tempo, mixing with the frantic pounds of numerous footsteps and deafening impacts and sizzles, the air clogged with smoke.

Momentarily neutralised by guilt, Tatsuya grimaced, lips fixed in a taut, thin line, and his eyes flitting to take in the scene of chaos and destruction—even as he moved to defend himself from any charging villagers—before he moved to capitalise on the distraction he caused, and as he shoved his way through the crowd, a part of him was thankful the others were likely at the rendezvous point. Pragmatic they may be, he knew the Wind Blades still considered themselves good people and what he just did (what he caused) could not be seen as such.

Understandable, yes, necessary even, but definitely not good.

He did his best not to focus on the screams again, did his best not to look at their faces, and was grateful for the rising dust as it made it easier—turning real men, women, and children with hopes and dreams of their own into faceless statistics; his escape a purchase paid in blood and lives. So, even as screams and flames backdropped his running form, the smoke rising into the sky like a giant black cloud, his gaze remained fixed on his path as he quickly clambered up a building.

He leaped from rooftop to rooftop, feet hitting the clay tiles with a soft thud before immediately springing forward, using the momentum to propel himself forward. He bounded from one rooftop to the next, using his arms to maintain balance as he leaped over gaps and obstacles and navigated the narrow alleys and steep inclines, twisting his body mid-air to land safely, and ran up walls to reach higher ledges.

The wind was whipping through his hair, and the sun was beating down on his back. He could see for miles around; the whole village spread out below him like a miniature landscape. Up here, moving through the city like a bird in flight, it was easy to ignore emotions he wasn't ready to face and instead, lose himself in the thrill of the moment—coming back to reality only when he had to roll across the ground as a spear pierced his shadow, just after slyly dropping a small bag of cowries down the chimney of the inn (as a repayment for the innkeeper’s troubles).

 He could see the wall in the distance, growing large as he approached, legs pumping faster and faster, and he knew that he had to get there before it was too late. With reckless abandon, once he got in range, he leaped for it and began scaling the wall, fingers clawing at the rough surface and feet kicking frantically to bring him higher and higher. He twisted to the side, whipping out of the way at the last moment and landing in a half crouch as another spear flew perilously close. The guards were getting nearer.

Finally, he reached the top and looked over the edge, feeling the rush of vertigo as he stared at the ground on the other side. But he didn't hesitate; he took a deep breath, and then he jumped. For a moment, he felt weightless. The wind rushed past him, his body tumbling head over heels as he plummeted toward the ground. He could hear the sound of his heartbeat pounding in his ears like a drum.

Twisting, he landed with a roll and took off running, heading straight for the rendezvous point, his heart pounding with adrenaline. Behind him, the shocked guards clustered on the edge of the wall, staring after him, jaws slack in amazement.