"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" the sky haired high priest cursed as he ran through Lighthalzen's dark alleys. His breath came in short gasps. He'd been running for ten minutes at least, fear being the only thing that kept him from collapsing. Deep gashes ran down and across both of his arms and back, his priestly robe torn and slashed. At this late hour, every shop and venue was closed, and running to the inn posed too much of a risk. The priest's only hope was to escape to the nearby field, north of the industrialized city, and teleport back to Prontera. It was possible that he could find sanctuary with Korsyke, his older brother. The stalker wouldn't dare attack a Lord Knight in the middle of such a busy city, especially one who served in the high ranks of King Tristan III's army.

Moments away from falling over with fatigue, the priest caught sight of a tall structure. Panting raggedly, the young priest's eyes lit up with hope, and he ran with restored vigor. The gate to the field was only a few steps away! If he could only reach it, he could make it back...

Suddenly, a powerful blow to the stomach knocked the priest onto his back, leaving him breathless and stunned. "Oh, you clever little boy," a low voice chuckled, "you were trying to get to the metaling field, weren't you? Trying to escape the teleportation restrictions on the city. Very clever." The priest choked as he felt a calloused hand wrap around neck and drag him into the ally, only a few meters away from the iron gate. "So, where were you planning to run to? Aldebaran? Geffen? Or perhaps Prontera?" The stranger let out a dark laugh when the priest weakly struggled upon hearing the name of his beloved city. He roughly shoved the younger boy against the wall in a corner far away from the gate, his feral grin glowing eerily in the dim moonlight.

"Sorry, kid, but no one's ever escaped me before, and I don't intend on changing that. Don't worry, we're gonna have a good time, you and I. I like you, kid. Really, I do. You got moxie, and that makes for a better chase. A real exciting one. I hate the stupid ones who try and hide in buildings, or the ones who give up when they get cornered. Idiots that try and beg for their lives, that pisses me off. But you," he said with amusement, bringing his face close to the other's ear, "I got you twice, and you still kept running. Gave me chills, seeing you take off like that, blood all over you and your robe half torn off. Never seen that before. Mouth-watering, I guess you could call it. After all, the other priests I've found just usually try talking to me, praying and all that shit. Not nearly as much fun. I don't even give them the honor of seeing my face, they're so boring. You weren't, though." The boy could feel the slow movement of a hand pressing eagerly against the inside of his thigh.

"We're going to have a good time tonight."

Rage boiled up within the young priest, and he struggled violently against his oppressor. "Bastard!" he hissed hoarsely, ignoring the fear that grew within his chest as the hand continued moving. "Those were innocent people! They did nothing to you!"

The stranger chuckled and roughly bit the priest's ear, causing the boy to let out a pitiful cry. "Language, language. You're a holy man after all. Come to think of it," he forced the boy to look him in the eyes, "how old are you anyway? You're a fucking high priest. Shouldn't you look more like a thirty year old or something?"

Unexpectedly, the boy slung his arm and hit the stranger squarely in the chest. It wasn't a strong hit, but the sudden blow surprised the stranger, who let go with a grunt and fell backwards. "Fuck you," the priest barked out as he jolted in the direction of the gates. With all the energy he had left, he sprinted past the sleeping guards and into the freedom of the field, the picture of his hometown burned into his mind.