Dyren started his sprint, taking a path having a lesser collision course - the top of the shed poles. Not an option for a normal man, but for Dyren. He spotted the black-caped burglar shoving through the crowd, ramming at Elves and Humans alike. Katalidans growled while the Algardian wings flapped its wings screeching upon an encounter with him.

There were, unfortunately, no other Centaurs to compete with him in the chase. A view from above showed the crowd chanting their bargain and the orderly arrangement of lanterns revealed the path he had to follow below. But he did not have time to admire the ambiance. He had to catch the pickpocket.

Dyren swiftly jumped from pole to pole, maintaining his mere balance. Everything on his path was a way to move forward, be it carts, flag poles that hung from buildings, or the balconies. His dangling long sword did not bother him. He just hoped not to encounter a soldier while he did his thing.

After free sprinting on all of the poles, even knocking himself over one unfortunate step and losing balance, and then the flag pole which was not strong enough to hold his weight, he reached the end of the market and he could site the transition between the dirt path and the cobblestone, a start of the next district.

He thought he should have closed in some amount of distance with the thief who had to deal with the crowd, unlike himself. But his delays would have fairly compensated for his progress. However, he sighted only the victim who chased him, not the thief.

Dyren dropped to the ground, slightly panting, and asked him "Where did he go?"

"I lost him," He wheezed. "But he should have gone into the lower district," he said to Dyren, all tired and worn out.

"I will seize him!" promised Dyren, determined in his actions exhibited by his flickering golden eyes.

"No chance!" The victim disapproved. "You could not building and spot him somehow in this entire district," he panted, "Can you?" He appended. Maybe he believed in miracles too after all.

"You are good at making ideas," Dyren appreciated.

"What, no, seriously are you going to!" The victim did not get his opportunity to complete his sentence, time did not help them close in with the thief. He stood gaping at him.

Dyren started to climb the nearby stone building, as an expert of Immortalian free sprinting. He was not exhausted, even a bit from all that pole balancing and jumping. He had all the stamina within him. He knew how exactly to control his body unlike other ordinary humans, who would waste their potential energy.

When he reached the top and continued deep inside the district, he was amazed by the entire district down below him, able to spot the fourth wall, and their towers and to some extent even see the fifth wall, far far away down below the area. The fourth wall districts were considerably elevated, so it was not hard to spot the fifth wall from here.

The night district beautifully unfolded into a perfect map, with the lanterns appearing like static fireflies. The jurisdiction of Immortalia was a Utopian one, Dyren standing above all of it.

And the thief dared to spoil the reputation.

Dyren blew out breaths of smoke without fire since it was considerably cold high up there. Even while having special abilities, he was not really resistant to cold. He hated cold, every element of it.

He continued to sprint across the rooftops desperately to find the thief. Hope started to freeze along with his body in the cold, now that he did not even have his cloak. The cold squeezed his barren neck and started to choke him. Red tint appeared across his exposed skin. "No turning back now, Laticia is mocking me for the rest of my life if I do,"

Warmth echoed past the freezing cold.

"Kaisens skal bölva þér fyrir að stíga á fót Algardave!"

Algardian birds were also called Algardaves. The Algardian language was very distinctive, especially when a bird spoke it. Dyren was lucky that day. They were cursing about the thief who had just stepped on their foot, in the name of the Kaisen god.

In other words, they yelled the thief was right there.

Dyren launched himself into that direction and spotted the thief after over a sixth of an hour of running. The thief ran with a long cape, rising itself proudly in the air for his agility, not knowing the shame of its bearer.

"Cape it is," Dyren determined. He made one final run across the rooftops and intercepted the way where the cape-wearing fish would escape to the sea, the district. Dyren unsheathed his sword, revealing a ruby-like red crystal decorated handle, made of Silver. Its blade though, never bloodstained color like the handle's crystal was illuminated by the bright moonlight.

Dyren never fell to the Sun or to the Moon.

He threw his sword at the thief with the highest accuracy at him, rivaling the speed of an arrow released from the bow. He never had masculine muscles yet he was strong.

It pierced his cape and struck the ground, tripping him over.

His speed turned against him, scratching his head for several seconds after his initial fall. Even the smoothest cobblestone polished his face off his sins. He got wounded badly. No way he would have resumed his run as efficiently as before. The victim somehow made his way across the district to the scene, severely wheezing.

Dyren quickly dropped his way down to the ground. He could feel all the chillness from his nose to his lungs from that sprint. His sister could have handled it better.

Far better.

It ached him, just like any other human. The crowd gathered to spectate the scene, while Dyren took his time to recover his breath. "At least I could say to Laticia that I have succeeded in my chase, that prevents scoffing on me to some extent,"

"No, probably she is going to complain that I made it late, tch!"

"Where is the brush!?" The victim spatted at him. Dyren approached his sword which struck the cobblestone to retrieve it before others could infer the meaning of the sword handle's unique decorations.

While he sheathed the sword, he observed the victim harshly turn over the robber and retrieve an object from his torn tunic.

"Do not taint me by touching me, witcher!" the robber swam across the floor backward.

"The, what!? You were the one who stole my sister's brush!" the victim glared at him back, almost kicking him.

"You taint these holy lands by wielding magic! You and that witch!" the cowardly thief gruffed.

"You dare to call my sister a witch!" he spotted, proceeding to kick him right on his face.

Dyren grabbed the victim's shoulder and gestured him not to proceed forward. He would proceed forward himself and deal with this. He approached the thief and gazed at him, and felt the thief's fear.

"Fellow brother, you have violated the law of the Immortalian constitution. You will face thine dire consequences," Dyren announced.

"I cannot believe people of this generation are supporting the use of magic within the city, and allowing women to wield swords, W-What had the Kingdom of Kaisenia become!?"

It was just recently for a hundred years, Magic was allowed to be used inside the city, and the Article which had forbidden women from wielding swords was revoked by the Prince, before four years. Such a disgrace that these conservatives still existed in this era. Dyren hated all of this nonsense. All the problems were the past King's doing.

"Better, " Dyren established with a deep voice.

"Ah...Better is it? I will show you what better is," the robber said sarcastically, then grinned maliciously.

Dyren noticed that the thief was drawing something from his waistcloth. It appeared like silver. He wondered why would he take out a bar of silver in the middle of an argument. It was not.

It was a dagger.

Dyren saw the thief coming right at his neck. He had no time to draw his sword out completely The Victim was too late in warning Dyren, who watched the scene helplessly and winced his eyes shut.

*cluck!*

He dared to open his eyes, only slowly. Reality had to be confronted sooner or later however you would avoid it, and he saw them both in surprise, gaping. Though Dyren did not draw his sword completely, the blade was long enough to shield his neck and struck with the dagger then and there.

"You claimed that you are gonna exhibit something better to me," Dyren dreamily said. "I must say that I am rather disappointed," His golden eyes glared at the robber through his sword.

He realized with whom he was fighting.

He instantly dropped his dagger, then stepped back several steps, tripping back to the ground. His shuddering movements and his shivering body frightened everyone around. It was as if he saw the most frightening thing in existence, and somehow people around him were feeling it too.

"Y-Yo-You are- - O-O-One of them!!" The robber stuttered, his voice cracking.

Dyren pointed his lucent sword at the thief to prevent him from reaching out to his dagger if he decides to attack him again.

"You will answer law, dear brother," Dyren reiterated, kicking away his dagger out of reach. He noticed the evening shift guards arriving at the scene and still kept his sword drawn.

"You ain't law to enforce the law on me, The military will deal with you too, don't you realize, heretic scum!" he cried.

The soldiers realizing what the situation was, drew their swords and rushed to the sight. Dyren sheathed his sword and turned back to the victim, showing keen interest in the object he was holding. It was a brush.

"I sprinted an entire district to retrieve a brush? I cannot imagine this girl laughing at me naming me 'Dyren, the retriever of Brushes.' Crap! ...Well, I at least managed to help someone,'

"Not you again! You chanted to get the other races out of the continent last week on the streets, and now you be picking fights with children! You should be dealt with immediately! Cuff this man up!" One of the soldiers commanded with his gravelly voice.

Dyren heard one of the soldiers muttering at him and heard noises of metal chains, probably handcuffs. The soldiers would have been relieved for capturing a long evading criminal. Dyren looked at the victim's clear black eyes.

"T-Thank y-"

"It is better if we get outta here first," Dyren commanded. He nodded, and just when they were about to leave the area, a hoarse voice of another soldier called out,

"You don't have the permission to wield a sword inside the walls either, child!"

Dyren stopped and saw the guards through his shoulder. They could see just one of his eyes, glaring at them. If that was not enough, He unsheathed his sword partially, and held it by the blade, revealing the handle's sigil. The Soldiers knew what that symbol meant,

A symbol of honor that cannot be questioned.

The guards withdrew quietly the instant, dragging with them the thief, who was clearly dumbstruck, gaping at Dyren as if he had seen the evil dragons.

The victim noticed this. Something felt conveniently off to him. He knew very well that wielding a sword inside the walls was forbidden and was strictly enforced. Dyren asked him something to break his thought over what had happened before he would infer from it deeply enough and reveal his secrets.

"Is the brush damaged?"

"No, it is perfectly fine!" His face lit up, beaming a gentle smile at Dyren. They started to walk together back to the marketplace, agreed mutually without a conversation about it.

"Thank you, whoever you are." He paused. "This is a rare artifact passed on our family for generations," he showed the brush to Dyren.

The brush's bristles were light golden hair of some creature Dyren could not infer from just looking at it. It was quite shiny with a handle of a kind of decoration he did not recognize, even possessing more knowledge over other continents.

"That should mean it is invaluable," Dyren claimed, not taking the brush up by his hand. He was being lost in his thoughts about the brush. Things did not just sum up to him correctly.

"Do not mistake me, my friend, but what could hopefully be special about a-" Dyren paused, "Brush?" Dyren asked

"It is not an ordinary brush, my friend," He chuckled softly. "This is the Dragon's brush," He claimed. Dyren expressed a puzzled expression. For a moment there he considered that the guy was nuts.

However, he had something else to add.

"Dragon's hair, for sure, it's invaluable. Let me tell you a secret," He offered. Dyren nodded with a hmm. He leaned forward to Dyren's ear and whispered, "When I was a kid I tried burning this brush when my mother guaranteed me that it will never burn out, and it never did!"

"What!? According to the texts too, A dragon's body was usually immune to fire! That should only mean, this is...Who just is this guy..." Dyren screamed inside his head.

"That is a little secret I told you there. Keep it safe!" he mumbled. Perhaps Dyren had to consider that Dragons might have actually existed in the past if they did not now.

"I-I will keep it a secret," Dyren assured, clearly failing to wear the calm mask on his face. A Storm was instigated inside his mind. The branch of thoughts gave him a headache. This was the first time someone ever said something accurate about the dragons, holding an object related to it right at his hand.

"Why would you trust me in revealing something so confidential like that?" Dyren blurted out

"You just jumped in to help me without even knowing what was going on, I know a trustable soul when I meet one," He beamed his wonderful smile at Dyren again.

"A robbery was taking place right in front of me, and I was not able to forgive it," Dyren said as a matter of fact. "Anyone in my place would have done it. If not for the crowd, the Centaur himself would have caught him there,"

"Come on man! Give some credit to yourself! You have saved my day, and my sister's carrier."

"Your sister is an Artist?"

"She is. And how did you even manage to catch up with him, not even expressing your slightest pain?" He redirected another question at him.

"Let's just say that I am not expressive enough. The sprint actually hurt my lungs breathing that cold air," Dyren replied, placing his hands over his chest, giving a heavy breath.

"I would like to test something out real quick," he said, offering the Brush by its handle to Dyren, to which he hesitated.

"You can hold it," He smiled, reassuring him.

"A-Alright," Dyren grabbed the brush quite reluctantly to inspect it himself and find something else interesting from it.

But the brush had other plans for him. Dyren had stopped walking instantaneously when he got his hands on the brush. He felt something creeping from the hand he held the brush, all the way up to his head, and shut him out of his consciousness. Something crawled inside him to his entire body.

The brush possessed him, and it said something to him, by visions and voices.

Chapter Word Count: 2545