CHAPTER 20 — The Blink of an Eye
Within seconds, Kyoichiiro's instincts took over. There was no time for lengthy thought—only room for reaction. The thugs' footsteps grew closer, and their shadows began to appear from behind the stack of wooden crates that served as his hiding spot.
Kyoichiiro: (Whispering quickly, his voice firm but not panicked) "Amura, quickly hide with Aetheria. Far from here. Now."
Amura only nodded. No words were needed, no protests. In situations like this, speed was everything.
Amura: (Grabbing Aetheria's hand, voice low) "Come with me."
And they vanished. Not truly vanished, but darted away with speed unnatural for children their age—upward, using a small wind spell to leap onto the roof of a low building beside the alley. They landed silently, lying flat on the cold, slightly dusty tiles.
Amura immediately covered Aetheria's mouth with his palm. Aetheria's eyes widened, but she nodded—understanding. She would not make a sound.
---
The two thugs arrived at the pile of wood where the snapping sound had originated. One held a knife, the other a short wooden club studded with rusty nails. They surveyed their surroundings suspiciously.
Thug #1: (Searching, shoving aside some stacks of wood with his foot) "Nothing here. Did I hear wrong?"
Thug #2: (Snorting, kicking a small piece of wood until it skittered away) "Damn. I was hoping to catch something today. I'm getting hungry."
They turned and walked away grumbling. Kyoichiiro, who had been lying behind a larger stack of wood—only a few meters away from them—could still see through the gaps between the stacked timber. His small body was an advantage. He remained unseen.
From above, Amura removed his hand from Aetheria's mouth, but Aetheria didn't speak immediately. Her face was already bright red—not from anger, but from a combination of embarrassment at having her mouth covered, lying close to Amura on the narrow roof, and the tension of the situation.
Amura: (Whispering, somewhat guiltily) "Ah... sorry, Aetheria."
Aetheria didn't answer with words. She clenched her right fist and punched Amura's stomach once—hard enough, but not enough to make him cough.
Aetheria: "Umph. Umph. UMPH."
Her face was pouty, her lips pursed like an annoyed child. Three consecutive punches, each with increasingly dramatic motion.
Amura: (Wincing, rubbing his stomach) "That hurts... why are you hitting me? Wait..." He stared at Aetheria's still-flushed face. "Why does your face look like a tomato?"
Aetheria didn't answer. She punched again. Twice.
Amura: "Ouch... ouch! Alright, alright—I'm sorry!"
From below, Kyoichiiro had emerged from his hiding spot and stood with his hands on his hips. His face was as flat as usual, but his eyes narrowed slightly—a sign that his patience was wearing thin.
Kyoichiiro: (Loud enough to be clear, but not shouting) "Hey. How long are you two going to keep playing around like that?"
Amura and Aetheria stopped immediately. They looked down, seeing Kyoichiiro standing with an expression that left no room for negotiation. In two leaps, Amura descended, then helped Aetheria jump down more carefully, thanks to the wind magic that slowed her fall.
They regrouped in the narrow alley.
Kyoichiiro: (Straight to the point, without preamble) "Where is the location, Aetheria? You know, don't you?"
Aetheria: (Nodding, her voice steady again) "Yes. It's not far from here. We can follow those thugs... for a while."
Kyoichiiro looked at them in turn—Amura still slightly wincing while holding his stomach, Aetheria now calm again though her cheeks still held a faint flush. Then he exhaled shortly.
Kyoichiiro: "Alright. Let's go."
---
Amura used his acceleration magic again. Their feet felt light, their small steps carrying them swiftly through narrow alleys, around sharp corners, leaping over piles of trash and worn-out crates. They stopped at the last corner, hiding behind a half-collapsed brick wall.
And there, in a small clearing surrounded by empty buildings, they saw her.
A little girl—perhaps around six years old—stood (or rather, sat slumped) in the middle of the clearing. Her brown hair was tangled, dirt clinging to her bruised cheeks. Her eyes were brown, large, and hollow—like the eyes of a doll that hadn't been touched in a long time. Her face was covered in bruises, her lower lip split, and around her neck coiled an iron chain glowing with a deep purple light—a magic chain, preventing her from escaping, from crying for help, perhaps even from dying even if she wished for it.
Her hands and feet were bound with coarse rope, leaving raw, chafed marks on her wrists.
And before her stood the same two thugs. One swung his foot, kicking the girl until she collapsed.
Thug #2: (With an irritated tone) "Looks like we can sell her. Even if the price isn't much—kids like her sell best in the lower black market."
Thug #1: (Smiling cynically) "You're too stupid. We should have chosen a more promising target. This one's dirty, wounded, useless."
He kicked again. The girl fell, her small body striking the stony ground. She didn't cry. Perhaps her tears had run out. Perhaps she was too exhausted to cry. All that could be heard was a small grunt—like a hitched breath, like the sound of someone who had already lost all hope.
Aetheria covered her mouth with both hands. Her eyes were wet, but she held back her tears. Amura, on the other hand, clenched his fists tightly. His jaw hardened, veins standing out at his temples.
Amura: (Whispering, but his tone full of barely contained hatred) "That's enough. Damn garbage. I'm sick of this."
He stepped forward. One step. Two steps.
A hand caught his shoulder.
Kyoichiiro: (Voice low, firm, but not angry—more like a reminder) "Calm yourself, Amura. We can't be reckless in making decisions. You know that."
Amura stopped. His chest rose and fell. He took a long breath, then exhaled slowly. His anger didn't disappear, but he pushed it down—to a place where he could control it.
Aetheria: (Still whispering, tears at the corners of her eyes) "What should we do?"
Kyoichiiro: (Closing his eyes for a moment) "Be patient. I'm thinking."
Three seconds. Four. Five.
Kyoichiiro: (Opening his eyes, beckoning them closer) "Come here."
They crouched, forming a small circle. Kyoichiiro spoke quickly, efficiently, without wasting words. His finger drew a rough sketch of the location in the dusty ground.
Kyoichiiro: "Amura, you'll take position on the roof of the building on the left. There's a pile of materials there—wood, scrap iron, maybe planks. Aetheria, you'll help Amura arrange them into a trap. You can manipulate wind to lift weights, right?"
Aetheria: (Nodding) "I can."
Kyoichiiro: "Once ready, you'll hide in the dark corner of the back roof. Don't move. Don't make a sound. I'll act as bait. I'll lure one of them away. When he enters the trap zone, Aetheria... release it."
Amura: (Frowning) "And me?"
Kyoichiiro: "You'll handle the other one. Here. In this clearing. Don't kill—at least, not until we get information. But if you must... do it quickly."
Amura: (Smiling faintly—not a friendly smile, but the cold smile of someone who had already calculated the risks) "Alright."
Kyoichiiro: (Looking at them in turn) "Got it?"
Aetheria: (Nodding firmly) "Umph!"
Amura: (Rubbing his hands together) "Ah, let's try it."
They scattered. Like shadows, Amura and Aetheria leaped onto the building rooftops, moving silently to their respective positions. Kyoichiiro remained behind, watching, counting the time.
---
Three minutes later, Kyoichiiro emerged.
He walked out from the shadow of the alley, standing at the edge of the clearing some distance from the thugs' position. His body was small, but his posture was firm. His hands were empty—the katana was still sheathed at his waist, but he didn't touch it.
Kyoichiiro: (Voice flat, loud enough to be heard) "Yo. You rotten bastards."
Both thugs turned. Their expressions shifted from surprise to annoyance, then to a terrible glee.
Thug #1: (Smiling slyly) "You damn brat... what did you just say?"
Thug #2: (Chuckling mockingly) "Oh, a kid like you dares to come here? Shouldn't someone your age be at home playing with his mother?"
He laughed again. The first thug joined in, but his eyes remained sharp—watching, assessing.
Thug #1: (Squinting) "But wait a minute..."
He stared longer. Kyoichiiro's cold face, his clean pale-blue-tinged white hair, his light blue eyes like shards of crystal ice. This wasn't the appearance of a street child. This was the appearance of someone born into blue-blooded nobility.
Thug #1: (His smile widening, eyes gleaming with greed) "Hahahaha... we're truly lucky today. I can see you're not some worthless commoner, are you? Your hair color, your eyes... like a noble, or possibly even higher."
He turned to his partner.
Thug #1: (Voice low, full of lust) "Catch him. Don't let a single hair escape. If we take him alive, his price could be ten times that of that damn girl."
The second thug nodded. Without a second thought, he sprinted toward Kyoichiiro—knife in his right hand, club in his left, his steps heavy but fast.
Kyoichiiro didn't move. He just stood there, watching the approaching enemy with an expression that showed absolutely no fear.
Kyoichiiro: (Still flat, almost bored) "Catch me if you can, loser."
He turned and ran.
The thug snarled, quickening his pace. "STOP, YOU DAMN BRAT!"
They entered the alley. Kyoichiiro ran fast—faster than a child his age should be able to, thanks to Aetheria's wind magic working from a distance, giving a small boost to each step. He turned left. Then right. Then left again.
The thug followed, but his adult body was heavier, less agile in the narrow alleys. He bumped into a stack of wood, nearly fell, cursing as he continued the chase.
Thug #2: "Damn it! Get back here!"
Kyoichiiro turned once more—into an even narrower alley, at the end of which stood a thick concrete wall three meters high. A dead end.
He stopped. Turned around. Faced the thug, who now stood at the other end of the alley, about nine meters away, panting but smiling smugly.
Thug #2: (Catching his breath, knife still raised) "Finally stopped running, you little bastard. I'll skin you until you're completely clean. Then I'll sell your pieces one by one."
He approached. Slowly. One step. Two steps. Three steps. His posture was that of a wild beast ready to pounce.
Kyoichiiro wasn't looking at the thug. Instead, his eyes flicked upward—to the roof of the building on the left side of the alley, where Aetheria's small shadow was faintly visible behind the stack of wood they had neatly arranged. Amura had already finished his part there. Now, it was just a matter of waiting.
Kyoichiiro smiled. Not a friendly smile, but a small, cold one—the smile that said 'you've already fallen into the trap'.
Kyoichiiro: "What a shame."
The thug lunged. His knife thrust forward, ready to stab.
And above, Aetheria released the holding rope.
The pile of wood—over five hundred kilograms—collapsed. Large logs, thick planks, and several old iron beams fell with a thunderous crash. The thug barely had time to look up, his eyes widening in terror, but no scream escaped.
CRASH—BAM—BOOM!
Dust flew everywhere. The timber stacked into a small mound nearly a meter high. The thug's body was completely hidden—buried beneath the heavy materials designed to incapacitate, not kill.
But enough to knock him unconscious for hours.
Aetheria leaped down, using wind magic to slow her fall, landing softly beside Kyoichiiro.
Kyoichiiro: (Staring at the pile of wood for a moment, then turning to Aetheria) "Are you alright, Aetheria?"
Aetheria: (Nodding, her face a little pale but her eyes shining) "Yes... that... worked?"
Kyoichiiro: (Nodding, his voice slightly warmer than usual) "Good work. I give you an A+."
Aetheria: (Her face brightening immediately, eyes widening) "Really?!"
Kyoichiiro: "Of course. You worked hard."
Without thinking, Kyoichiiro raised his hand and patted Aetheria's head. The motion was natural—like a habit he wasn't even aware of. Aetheria's hair felt very smooth, soft, and well-maintained—a stark contrast to the alley's grime and battle dust.
Aetheria went silent. Her face flushed again, but this time she didn't punch anyone. She just smiled faintly, her eyes half-closed, enjoying the touch.
Kyoichiiro: (Suddenly realizing what he was doing, his hand stopped but didn't immediately withdraw) "So... are you sure that thug isn't dead after you dropped that pile on him?"
Aetheria: (Opening her eyes, still smiling) "Of course. Kyoichiiro-san told me to prepare anything to use as a weapon—but non-lethal. Amura helped me arrange those large logs into a trap. We placed them up there, using a net as a temporary support. And I hid in the dark corner, crawling along the wall using my magic."
Aetheria's face beamed as she explained—proud, happy, and slightly spoiled.
Kyoichiiro withdrew his hand. He muttered to himself.
I never expected my stupid plan to go this smoothly... he thought, with an odd expression mixing relief and slight doubt in his own abilities.
Kyoichiiro: (Sighing) "Alright. Now let's go to Amura's location. Let's see if he handled his part."
---
On the other side of the small clearing, a different scene unfolded.
The first thug still stood near the bound little girl. His right foot occasionally nudged the girl's body as if inspecting merchandise. He was restless—his partner was taking far too long.
Thug #1: (Grumbling) "Taking so long... can't even catch one snot-nosed brat."
The little girl remained silent. Her hollow eyes stared at the ground.
From above, from the roof of the building on the eastern edge of the clearing, a shadow leaped. A small silhouette with fluttering red hair landed like a cat atop a stack of wooden crates not far from the thug's position. The sound of its landing was nearly inaudible.
Amura: (Voice flat, cold, expressionless—his face hidden in shadow) "Where are you looking, idiot?"
The thug looked up. His eyes widened when he saw a child—perhaps the same age as the one his partner had chased—standing atop a stack of crates, holding a large iron block. The block was dull, heavy—perhaps around one ton, too large even for an adult to lift.
Thug #1: "Hah?!"
Amura: (Raising the iron block with one hand—as if holding a toy) "Sorry, but you're going to sleep for a while."
He swung the block downward, striking the thug's shoulder precisely—not with full force, but enough to crack his shoulder bone, send his body flying into the nearest building wall.
CRACK—BAM!
The thug's body slammed into the brick wall, leaving cracks along its surface. Blood sprayed from his mouth and nose. He slid to the ground, unmoving—unconscious, but still breathing.
Amura landed softly on the ground, the iron block still in his hand. He walked toward the thug's body with calm steps. The aura around him was chilling—not a threat, but a certainty that he could do far worse if he wished.
He didn't have time to act further, because from the edge of the clearing, two figures emerged. Kyoichiiro and Aetheria walked out of the alley with casual strides. Aetheria was still smiling faintly—a smile that made Kyoichiiro feel relieved.
And behind Kyoichiiro, a thug was being dragged along the ground. His face was battered, full of wounds and bruises, his hands and feet loosely bound with rope. Kyoichiiro didn't look tired at all—Aetheria was likely helping lighten the load with her wind magic, but still, the scene was strange.
Kyoichiiro: (Upon arriving, looking at Amura who was sitting casually atop a stack of crates—yes, already sitting, as if he hadn't just beaten an adult with a one-ton iron block) "Hey. Did you finish your task?"
Amura didn't answer with words. He simply raised his right hand, then pointed his index finger to his side—toward the wall where the first thug lay unconscious, hands and feet already bound with strong rope.
Kyoichiiro and Aetheria turned. In the dark corner of the clearing, they saw the thug's figure—bound like a cocoon, his face unrecognizable from swelling and blood. Several of his bones appeared broken in multiple places—his left arm bent in the wrong direction, his leg twisted unnaturally.
Kyoichiiro approached, observing briefly. He wasn't moved, but he wasn't surprised either—Amura had already warned that he didn't play around.
Kyoichiiro: (Turning back toward Amura, his face slightly annoyed) "Hey, Amura. Did you kill him?"
Amura jumped down from the crate pile, walking toward them with light steps—a stark contrast to the massive iron block still carried on his right shoulder. He now set the block down on the ground with a heavy thud.
Amura: (Smiling proudly) "Of course not, Kyoichiiro-san. He's just unconscious with severe injuries. I only hit him with this light block."
He patted the iron block—a block that even in the dim light looked like a beam used for building construction.
Kyoichiiro: (Slightly surprised, but his expression remained flat) "You call that light?"
He stared at the block. It was at least the size of Kyoichiiro's own body, with a thickness that would make it impossible for a normal human to lift.
Kyoichiiro: (Looking at the bound thug, then back to Amura, his voice lower, full of restrained amazement) "How did he survive a fatal strike like that?"
He stared at Amura longer. His eyes narrowed.
Kyoichiiro: "Wait... is this another one of your powers at work?"
Amura smiled—an ambiguous smile, like someone caught but unwilling to admit it. He turned his face away.
Amura: "I only did what you told me, right? Even though that block was very heavy, I lightened the impact and the lethality... adjusting the force so it would hit the target precisely without killing him."
Kyoichiiro exhaled a long breath. Not a tired sigh, but a relieved one—at least no one was dead. Not yet.
He turned to Aetheria, who had been standing behind him, silent.
Kyoichiiro: "Aetheria. Can you?"
Aetheria: (Suddenly addressed, answering reflexively with slightly panicked tone) "E-eh?!"
Kyoichiiro: (Repeating, clearer) "Heal him. At least until he regains consciousness. We need information."
Aetheria nodded. She approached the bound thug—the one in worse condition—and knelt beside him. Her hands began to glow with a warm golden light, covering the open wounds and bruises on the thug's body. Broken bones began to knit back together, torn flesh began to mend.
Ten minutes passed.
Aetheria exhaled, sweat beading on her forehead. The golden glow dimmed, then faded.
And on the ground, the thug groaned. His eyes opened slowly—blurry, confused, unaware of where he was.
Kyoichiiro, who had been standing before him, immediately stepped forward. He didn't attack, didn't shout. He just stood before the thug with a firm posture—not physically threatening, but enough to make anyone who saw him feel an immense mental pressure.
Amura stood behind Kyoichiiro's left, hands on his hips, expression flat—but his cold aura still lingered. Aetheria stood behind the right, slightly back, her eyes watchful.
Kyoichiiro: (Staring straight into the thug's eyes, voice flat—neither a whisper nor a shout, but a voice that felt heavy from the absence of emotion) "Finally awake."
The thug came to full consciousness. He saw three small children before him—children who should have been easy prey, who should have been frightened and crying.
But all he saw were cold stares from three pairs of eyes—light blue, bright red, and pink—looking at him as if he were a worthless insect.
His body began to tremble.
Kyoichiiro: (Still with the same voice, but now with a knife's edge on every word) "Speak quickly. Who sent you? Where is the slave holding location? And who else is involved?"
The thug opened his mouth—not to answer, but to whimper in fear. His teeth chattered.
Kyoichiiro didn't blink. He just waited.
Behind them, in the corner of the clearing, the little brown-haired girl still sat on the ground—the chain still coiled around her neck, her hands and feet still bound. She wasn't crying. She was just staring. Her hollow eyes now blinked slowly—a little light beginning to return. Perhaps, for the first time in a long while, she was seeing hope.
And that hope took the form of three small children standing before her tormentors, completely unafraid.