The market swallowed us whole.
Morning in Silia did not wake, it erupted.
Sound piled atop sound: merchants shouting prices in competing rhythms, iron-rimmed cart wheels grinding against stone, animals snorting in protest as reins snapped taut. The air was thick with the smells of bread just pulled from ovens, ripe fruit split open by careless hands, sweat baked into wool, and oil dripping from poorly maintained lanterns.
Crowds pressed from every direction.
And crowds were dangerous.
They hid knives.They hid intent.They hid witnesses.
I walked half a step ahead of Yna, close enough that my cloak brushed her sleeve whenever the flow of people surged. If something happened, I needed to be between her and the world.
My eyes never stopped moving.
That was when it hit me.
Not a sound.
Not a shout.
A misalignment.
The air shifted wrong—like a current bending against the natural flow of bodies. A shadow moving through the crowd instead of with it.
My instincts screamed.
Too late.
A hand snapped out and clamped around Yna's wrist.
Hard.
She let out a sharp breath—not fear, not pain, but surprise.
The hooded man didn't hesitate. He twisted, shoulder lowered, forcing his way through bodies with brutal certainty, dragging her after him like cargo.
"YNA—!"
I ran.
The crowd fought me instantly. A shoulder slammed into my ribs. Someone cursed as my elbow caught their jaw. A basket tipped, oranges spilling underfoot—someone screamed as they slipped, crates toppling like dominos.
The thief kicked a business stand behind him.
Apples burst across the street, skins splitting as they hit stone. People stumbled. Someone fell. Chaos bloomed in his wake.
"STOP—!"
He didn't look back.
The street narrowed ahead, the open noise of the market sharpening into echoes as walls closed in. Stone replaced air. Shadows thickened.
He hurled a wooden crate over his shoulder.
I ducked.
It shattered against the wall beside me, splinters tearing across my cloak and stinging my cheek. Pain registered distantly—irrelevant.
Distance was the problem.
Casting in the surface is much easier than casting along the dungeon's deep. Therefore, I no longer need to rely on basic spells to steady my axiom output.
"I'll try a new one!"
Runes ignited along my calf, burning blue-white magic circle beneath my heels.
ᚢᚱ ᛋᚲ ᛏᚺ(Ura Scala Thra — Vectoris Transit)
Translation: "Here equals There."Purpose: Temporarily redefines spatial separation, collapsing distance into a single enforced step.
The world lurched.
Space folded like bad logic.
My foot struck stone where air had been a heartbeat earlier. Momentum slammed through my bones as I reappeared mid-stride, shoulder-checking into him—
—but he twisted at the last second.
We crashed into stacked crates instead.
Wood exploded. Fruit pulp burst across the alley wall. Pain flared up my already strained leg, hot and sharp enough to steal breath.
Yna stumbled free.
Then—
She stopped.
Completely.
She stood there, unmoving, eyes unfocused.
"YNA! MOVE!"
She didn't.
Cold dread crawled up my spine.
Is she bound?Axiom suppression?A latent restraint rune?
No. She's a goddess.
Might be worse.
If I lost control here—If I let my Axiom surge—Our cover would shatter.
And hers more than mine.
The man recovered faster than any street criminal should. He lunged again, blade low and vicious, eyes wild with desperation rather than skill.
No time.
I ripped the bandages from my right arm.
Red light bled out.
Axiom surged—impure, fractured, screaming to be shaped. The familiar terror clawed at my chest: What if it spikes? What if it registers too high?
Crystals could read impurity.
And I was half impurity given form.
I forced definition onto it.
Runes burned into the air, sharp and absolute.
ᚷᚱ ᛒᚾ ᛞᚱ(Grav Borun Dur — Crucis Axiom Flux)
Translation: "Weight is law. Momentum is denied."Purpose: Enforces mass dominance upon the caster's body, converting motion into absolute impact without energy loss.
I moved.
Not faster.
Heavier.
Reality bent—not visibly, but decisively. The ground acknowledged me. The air resisted him.
My fist connected with his face.
Bone failed.
The sound was wrong—too deep, too final. He flew backward and slammed into the alley wall hard enough to dent stone, collapsing in a heap of blood, broken breath, and twitching limbs.
Silence crashed down.
I caught Yna as her knees buckled.
"…Are you hurt?" I asked, forcing my voice steady.
She blinked once.
"No."
I stared at her. "Then why didn't you run?"
She looked up at me, eyes calm. Measuring.
"A test," she said softly. "I wished to see how far you would go without asking."
My jaw tightened.
"…You're unbelievable."
Behind us, the man groaned, body refusing to obey him.
I rewrapped my arm quickly, sealing the red glow back beneath cloth before anyone could round the corner.
Then I grabbed the thief by the collar and dragged him out of the alley.
—
The guild receptionist went pale.
"T-that's a wanted robber—!"
"He tried to take her," I said flatly.
The reward pouch hit my palm.
Ten silvers.
Enough.
As we turned to leave, I felt it.
Eyes on us.
Not admiration.
Not gratitude.
Calculation.
Someone had seen too much.
We didn't stop walking until the streets thinned.
Then Yna spoke, her voice softer now—less archaic, more human.
"Was it necessary… to hurt him that badly?"
I didn't slow.
"In this world," I said, "hesitation kills faster than blades."
She nodded once.
After a pause, she added quietly—
"…Then I am glad you hesitated nowhere."
I glanced at her, just briefly.
"Next time," I said, "don't test me in a crowd."
A faint smile touched her lips.
"Next time," she replied, "I will warn you first."