[Spacetime That Might Exist] Street Battle

Varos changed into a brown, coarse cloth robe and stood in front of the church's closed doors.

He was holding a white object in his arms.

The door opened a crack from the inside. Clematis stood behind the door, his black priest's robes hanging neatly.

"What's wrong, Varos?"

Varos pushed what he was holding forward. It was a cat, pure white, but with a deep wound on its side. The white fur was soaked in blood and tangled into a dark red lump. The cat's eyes were half-closed, and its breathing was so faint that the rise and fall of its chest was barely visible.

Clematis stared at it for a few seconds.

"... It's beyond saving." His voice was steady. "At least offer a prayer for it. That's a kind of salvation."

Varos didn't react much, and turned around while holding the cat.

"No need. Life simply returns to nothingness after death. There's no need for redemption."

Clematis said nothing more and silently closed the church door.

The door hinges closed, making a slight friction sound.

Varos, holding the cat, walked to an old bench by the church's outer wall and sat down. The rough texture of the brick wall was felt through his clothes. He looked down at the dying white cat in his arms, his fingers gently stroking the downy fur on the tips of its ears.

The cat's breathing became weaker.

Footsteps approached.

A man stopped in front of him. He had short brown hair tied in a short ponytail, a signature goatee, and emerald green eyes looking at the cat in his hands. The man wore a dark blue monk's robe with gold trim, over which he wore a long white robe that reached past his knees.

It is Sein.

"Excuse me," Sein said, "Is this your cat?"

"Yeah," Varos said, his gaze never leaving the cat. "At his age, trying to cross a busy road, how silly... just like me."

Sein crouched down, his line of sight level with the cat's. He stretched out his hand, his palm hovering an inch above the cat's wound, but did not touch it.

"Let me see."

With his other hand, he pulled the Holy Scripture from his pocket and opened it with one hand.

A soft white light immediately emanated from his palm, a light that was not dazzling but warm, like the morning sun in winter, enveloping the cat's wound.

The white light lasted for about ten breaths.

Then, Sein closed the Holy Scripture and withdrew his hands.

The terrible wound on the cat's side stopped bleeding and closed at a visible speed, with new pink flesh growing back. Its previously weak breathing became steady, and its body was no longer stiff.

A few seconds later, the cat's eyes opened fully, its amber pupils clearly reflecting Sein's face. It wriggled, leaped lightly from Varos's frozen arms, shook its fur, meowed, and quickly darted under the bench to hide, leaving only its wary eyes showing.

Varos looked at his empty arms, then at the cat under the bench, and slowly stood up. His face was expressionless, but his eyes were somewhat vacant.

"... Unbelievable," he whispered.

Sein also stood up.

"Not very close to anyone," he said with a smile.

"He's rather shy." Varos turned to Sein, reaching into his robe to feel around. "... Thank you very much. If you don't mind..."

He pulled out a flat metal flask, the body of which had many dents and scratches.

Sein waved his hand.

"No need for that." He spoke casually, then pulled a small photo box pendant from his collar, which hung from a thin chain around his neck, opened it, and handed it to Varos. "More importantly, I'm looking for someone. Have you seen this person?"

Inside the pendant was a small group photo. The photo showed two boys, both looking under ten years old. On the left was Sein as a child, with brown hair and a wide smile. On the right was a blond boy, half a head taller than him, with a slightly naive expression but bright eyes, his hand on Sein's shoulder.

Varos's gaze fell on the photograph. He stared at it for a long time, his eyelids drooping slightly, concealing the emotions in his eyes.

"Hmm..." he uttered a muffled syllable.

Sein added, "He calls himself a 'Gorilla Warrior,' and he's a weirdo."

Varos raised his eyes and looked at Sein. His gaze lingered on Sein's face for a moment, as if confirming something, or perhaps recalling something.

"... Really?" Varos finally said. "Never heard of it. But, you should gather information at places like taverns, right? There's one I frequent; I'll take you there."

He turned and walked along the street. His steps were slow and slightly unsteady, like an ordinary old man.

Sein put away the pendant and followed.

"You've been a huge help."

The two walked one after the other. Quiet houses lined both sides of the street, with the occasional horse-drawn carriage passing by.

"Why do you want to find this person?" Varos asked, seemingly in casual conversation.

"He's my best friend," Sein said. "When we were kids, we made a promise that we'd become adventurers together when we grew up."

"Really? I see." Varos nodded. "Then you must know him quite well. You said his name is 'Gorilla Warrior'... Do you know his real name?"

Sein stroked his chin, pondered for a moment, and then frowned slightly, as if searching through his memories.

Varos slowed his pace slightly, turned his head, and watched him out of the corner of his eye.

A few seconds later, Sein relaxed his brow and smiled somewhat embarrassedly.

"Uh... I don't remember."

Varos paused for a moment, then a low laugh escaped his throat.

"Hahaha..." He shook his head, his laughter tinged with helplessness, "This is just too outrageous."

On another street, the rooftop of a building in the distance.

Frieren stopped in her tracks.

She was walking ahead of Fern and Red Hair, crossing a narrow skybridge connecting two rooftops, when she suddenly stopped without warning, leaning forward slightly as if she had sensed something.

Fern immediately stopped and turned his head to the side.

"Lady Frieren, what's wrong?"

Frieren didn't answer immediately. She stood there, her emerald eyes narrowed, her gaze fixed on the distance—the direction they had come from, and further still, the outlines of the layered rooftops of the Imperial Capital's working-class district were bathed in the slanting afternoon light, their edges clearly defined.

She remained silent for a few seconds.

"We've been detected from the opposite direction," she said, her voice flat. "We need to escape immediately—"

Before he could finish speaking...

The red-haired man next to him suddenly turned his head, his sharp gaze sweeping towards a certain direction on his right. His hand instantly reached for the handle of his battle axe behind his back—

But it was too late.

A sharp, piercing sound tore through the air almost the instant the red-haired man turned his head.

"Pfft!"

An arrow pierced the red-haired man's left shoulder.

The arrow pierced his flesh with a dull thud. The impact sent red-haired man staggering half a step, but he managed to steady himself by firmly planting his right foot on the ground.

If he hadn't instinctively dodged at the last moment, that arrow would have been aimed at his head.

"Quickly, squat down."

As Frieren crouched down behind the low wall at the edge of the roof, she spoke. Fern followed closely behind.

Red Hair grabbed the exposed arrow shaft with his right hand and pulled it out. The arrow, along with a bit of flesh and blood, left his body and was casually tossed to the ground with a soft "thud." He pressed his wound and quickly hid behind the wall.

Fern quickly examined his injuries, his pale purple eyes remaining calm.

Are you alright?

"It should be alright."

In the distance, the top of a towering spire.

Wolf crouched in the shadows, his posture as steady as a rock. He held a dark longbow in his hand, its lines flowing smoothly, the bowstring still humming softly.

He squinted one eye, his gaze piercing through the gaps between the towers, looking into the distance. The target had already disappeared behind the low wall.

"To be able to react from such a distance," Wolf muttered to himself, his tone unreadable, neither admiration nor regret. "Truly a remarkable soldier."

He shook his head.

"What a pity."

Behind the low wall.

Frieren crouched down, her emerald eyes quickly scanning the height and angle of the surrounding buildings as she rapidly calculated in her mind.

"Judging from the angle at which the red-haired guy was hit, although it's hard to believe, the opponent... must have shot from that direction."

She raised her finger and pointed to a solitary spire standing in the distance. The spire was slender, its top just a blurry dot in the sunlight. It was about half a town away from here.

Fern looked in the direction she was pointing.

"What an amazing archer," Frieren said softly.

"I can fight back," Fern, looking at Frieren.

Frieren shook her head.

"Magic perception can't capture situations that far. Without perception to assist magic, relying solely on visual projection has a very low success rate. Although with Fern's skill, he might actually succeed... I can't allow you to retaliate with magic in town. Magic is different from arrows; the target is too large. Besides, the opponent may have already moved."

Her gaze returned to the spire.

"From the moment we were detected to the time we were attacked, only a few seconds passed. The enemy must have prepared sniping positions beforehand, and their escape route was also planned long ago."

She made a decision.

"Let's get out of their range of perception first. This way, start running."

The three ran quickly along the alley, their footsteps echoing between the high walls on either side.

After running around two corners, Frieren suddenly stopped again, as if she had sensed something.

Outside Wolf's tavern.

Varos, with Sein in tow, stopped in front of the closed shop.

Clutching her ever-present bottle of liquor, Schritt sat on the stone steps, leaning against the door, one leg bent and the other stretched out, blocking the entrance. Her eyes were half-open, a hazy, drunken smile on her face, but her gaze was clear-headed.

Varos walked over.

"Make way," he said, "I need to go in."

Schritt shook the flask, tilted her head back and took a sip, then wiped her mouth with her sleeve.

"I'm sorry, the tavern is closed today."

"You're not the boss."

"No—" Schritt held up a finger and shook it, "It's already closed."

Varos looked at her and remained silent for two seconds. His face showed no change in expression, but his eyes darkened, as if he understood something.

Wolf wasn't in the store. He was "working"...

He didn't insist any further, turning to Sein was waiting nearby and saying, "There's a troublesome drunkard blocking our way. Let's go to another tavern."

He started walking and walked along the street.

"Just walk through a few more paths, and you'll find a hidden gem that few people know about."

Sein followed behind him. After a few steps, Sein suddenly stopped and glanced back in the direction of the tavern.

The streets were deserted, with only a few blurry figures of pedestrians in the distance.

Varos noticed this, stopped, and turned to the side.

"What's wrong?"

Sein turned around, scratched the back of his head, and gave a slightly apologetic smile.

"Sorry, I suddenly remembered I have something urgent to attend to."

Varos nodded.

"Oh, I see," he said. "I'm sorry I couldn't help. I hope you find your friend soon."

Sein had already turned around and simply waved.

"Okay, thank you for your blessings."

He turned and strode away in another direction, the hem of his white robe swaying gently with each step.

Varos stood there, watching Sein's figure disappear around the street corner. The evening wind ruffled the hem of his brown robe, and the wrinkles on his face appeared even deeper in the fading light.

A rooftop with a wide-open view.

Wolf knelt in the shadow of the roof ridge, longbow across his knee. His position had been exposed; he had to move. His ears twitched slightly, as if listening for something.

There was no one around, only the sound of the wind. But when he spoke, his voice was low, as if he were talking to himself.

"Lore, I've lost my sniping angle. Tell me a new sniping spot, and the enemy's location."

Inside the tavern.

On the bar counter, the silver coin that Lore held aloft in her hands was slowly spinning on its own, emitting a faint magical fluctuation that could only be detected by a specific sense.

Lore closed her eyes, her long eyelashes drooping down. Her "gaze" seemed to penetrate the walls of the tavern, the streets, and the buildings, locking onto a tiny, constantly moving signal in the distance.

"The enemy escaped into the alley. Such a precise escape route... means they figured out the location where you were sniping."

Wolf's voice seemed to ring directly in her ear. "Can you lock on?"

"They'll inevitably have to cross the central avenue of the city; that's their only route," Lore said. "Even if they're mixed in with the crowd, you'd still be able to hit your target, Wolf."

"Hmm," Wolf replied succinctly, "But only if the soldier doesn't get in my way."

Lore remained expressionless. "As for the warrior... didn't you already take care of him first?"

There was a moment of silence on Wolf's end.

"Of course... as long as he's not someone like Iris or Varos."

Deep in the alley.

Frieren, Fern, and Red Hair were hurrying through the alley. Despite his injury, Red Hair's steps remained steady.

But suddenly, the red-haired man, who was running at the back, swayed without warning, tripped with his right foot, and fell forward, losing consciousness.

Frieren and Fern immediately turned around.

"Redhead?"

Frieren took a few steps to his side, squatted down, and examined him for a while.

"... It's poison."