When Number 8 first saw the train they were supposed to take out of Nano's village, he thought it was a monster. Not a monster from the lab, but a behemoth of cold metal and black smoke, one that would eat the pedestrians that wandered near it and spit out the ones it didn't find appetizing. A creature that traveled way too fast for its weight class and had a screeching roar followed by a sharp whistle that made Number 8's skin bleed.

It was terrifying...

Number 8 thought it would try to eat him, and it was only when Vera offered a brief explanation that Number 8 trusted the machine enough not to try cutting it in half. A decision he was grateful for once they boarded the train with the tickets Nano's family had given them for the birds they had inadvertently sold. The two of them sat in a booth and watched Nano's town fade into the distance, with Nano waving them goodbye.

"You and Nano seemed to get along..."

Vera's teasing yet curious words brought Number 8 from looking out the window, turning to face Vera, who gave him a look that screamed nosey and a tone that called nosier, "You guys talk about anything interesting while I was asleep? Besides, how would you turn my coat into a chicken costume?"

Vera gave a small wave towards his still, freshly un-feathered torso, a feat he attributed to Number 8's goodwill and Nano's possible intervention on Vera's behalf.

"We talked about magic..." Number 8 said with a shrug, ignoring Vera's disappointment at his bland, uninteresting answer. Number 8, whose gaze was out the window, rested his chin on his palm and murmured into his fingers, "We talked about thread magic, Egg Knock, and Sho..."

Number 8 glanced over at Vera, his eyebrows twitching in annoyance as he saw Vera's nosey expression latching on to his every word. Vera gave a small, placating wave forward like he had just found the thing that would curb his boredom for the next few hours, "Tell me more."

"I don't want to."

"Come on!"

Vera said in exasperation, his pleas for entertainment being brushed aside as all attempts bounced off Number 8's stone-cold conscience. Vera's efforts were all for naught because Number 8 spoke without a glance.

"No. Could you stop bothering me? I'm busy..."

Number 8 continued gazing out the window, his eyes glued on the passing scenery as if trying to memorize every detail. Vera was eventually forced to concede with a resigned sigh, laying back against the seat as he decided to pass the time by talking to the only other passenger on the trip.

"Hey Sho, you got any games we can play while we wait? Number 8's thoroughly incapacitated."

His shadow shifted towards the seat next to him, giving a slight nod as a shadowed arm shuffled towards the ground. Vera watched with growing interest as Sho's hand started squirming on the ground before eventually forming a shadow puppet. The design flawlessly reflected on the ground, even giving it a little shake to simulate jumping.

"A rabbit... hey, that's pretty good."

Vera was impressed; the puppet was much better than Sho's usual drawings. Although, Sho's ability to manipulate his shape when on the ground was a significant factor.

Huh... he's doing more...

Vera watched with interest as Sho's hands squirmed again, falling on a design with a more rounded base and a stubby snout. The fur was even spiky and short to signify what species it was supposed to be.

"Bear... black bear by the looks of it."

Sho nodded, giving an amused tilt of his head as he conjured up shadow puppet after shadow puppet, Vera spending the rest of the train ride trying to guess what creature Sho would summon next. The only one that stumped him was a honey badger that Sho refused to give him the points for when he had guessed it was a regular badger.

"You're such a cheater..."

Vera muttered, a small smile crossing his face as Sho shook his head in mock confusion before creating even more shadow puppets for Vera to try and classify, each one getting more complex than the last...

"Cheetah... oh, come on. A Jaguar's the same thing."

It was a fun game, if he was being honest.

Monne was a relatively small city, but it was still more people than either Vera or Number 8 had been around. Small crowds gathered around the train station the second they had gotten off the train, and they were still trying to get past the heaps of people packed together like sardines.

"There's too many people..."

Number 8 muttered uncomfortably, his shoulders hunched and tense. His senses were overloaded as he tried to duck past every stray pedestrian or merchant. Every stray bump or yell forced him to fight back a flinch long ingrained into him...

Vera wasn't doing much better by the looks of it.

"Yeah... you're not wrong."

Vera frowned as his thin body was shoved by a passing stranger, his hands unconsciously fiddling with his sleeves as he tried to find a way out of the crowds surrounding the train station. His senses were tense and alert with all the commotion that was going on in such a closed space.

Wow... I hate this...

Vera hadn't expected to, but he hated being surrounded by many people. The year in the lab had been hell, but it had also been an isolated hell. It had been a lonely hell that he had adapted to, not a crowded, noisy environment where a new variable accompanied every passing second. His nerves were getting fried just being so close to people; it made every movement feel like an eternity of waiting for something to go wrong.

Dammit... whatever, I'll have to get used to this if I want to go to Fairy Tail.

Magnolia wasn't a small city; it was at least twice the size of Monne, probably triple the size of it. If Vera would be uncomfortable around hordes of people, it was better he got rid of that tick now rather than when he got to Magnolia.

"Come on, 8, hold tight so I don't lose you."

Vera grabbed Number 8's hand and started pushing past the crowded area. Ignoring the yells pointed his way whenever he stepped on someone's toes or shoved too hard, and using Sho to push anyone too heavy for his skinny body to handle. The final obstacle was a particularly round man with a messy beard and blond hair, who didn't take too kindly to being shoved out of the way by a child half his size.

"Hey! Watch where you're going, kid!"

"Fuck off!"

Vera yelled as he pushed past the final hurdle, giving the fat businessman the finger as he walked into the open streets and got his bearings. He looked over to see Number 8 practically panting with a knuckle-white grip on his hand. Number 8 held his leg with the other hand for support and stared at the ground like an exhausted marathon runner.

"Please... let's not do that again..."

Number 8 murmured, his hand like an iron grip on Vera's as he felt a slight tap on his back, "Yeah, we won't... sorry about that."

Vera kept tapping his finger on Number 8's back to ground him, watching with concern as Number 8 slowly controlled his breath. Eventually, he could let go of Vera's hand and move his gaze from the ground, with a bit more energy now that so many people didn't surround him.

"Thanks..."

Number 8 didn't say anything else, and Vera didn't mention it. He turned to get a good look at the town while Number 8 recuperated from the experience that had fried his nerves, barely catching Vera mumbling under his breath, "Looks like a fishing town..."

Monne sat on the bank of the river that rested before Isvan's western border, flowing from the mountains at the southern border to the ocean that hugged the northern border. Anyone who wanted to reach the west border of Isvan and the countries that lay past it had to cross it since it ran straight through the country.

Monne was the perfect place to do so.

It had the foundations of a long-established fishing town, hotels and restaurants on every corner, and wooden infrastructure that benefitted from the city's natural beauty. That wasn't even taking into account the best part of Monne...

There's barely any snow...

Only an inch or two inches of snow was in the ground, a little less than Nano's village and far less than the snow that covered Brago. It was the first time Vera could feel the temperature difference, a slight chill instead of constant cold. If they had come a week later, there might not have been any snow at all...

If they were lucky, snow might not be on the river's other side.

'Tug'

Vera looked over to his shadow resting on a nearby wall. Sho pointed towards the docks at the opposite end of town, indicating they should see the riverside.

"Hey, 8, you wanna check out the river?"

Vera looked over to see Number 8 already staring intently at the river. His eyes were glued to the blue water that faded into the horizon; Vera's words seemed to go in one ear and out the other.

"Well, I'll take that as a yes..."

Vera said with a shake of his head, grabbing Number 8's arm and pulling him towards the docks, not noticing the frantic, familiar, gruff yelling of the prick they had passed back at the station. The growing spectacle of outrage stirred the crowd, hiding a set of cold eyes in the mix that lingered on Vera as he trailed towards the river separating the east and the west.

Number 8 didn't know how to describe what he was seeing...

It's so... vast...

Number 8 couldn't help but gape, his eyes wide as they lingered on the water that came in waves and trailed into the horizon. The sun reflected in every lapse of the tides and every spray of the waves, the smell of fish, crystal water, and slushes of broken ice lingering through the air. If Vera had told him this was an ocean, he would have believed it, and if Vera said there was nothing past it, he might have considered it.

"If you look any closer, you're gonna fall in..."

Number 8 blinked in response to the soft yet elderly voice, his eyes flicking towards the edge of the shore he was at. A slight shuffle of his boots showed the pale, cracked ice that lined the edges of the near-freezing riverbed, allowing Number 8 a few moments to take a step back. The shift from solid ice to the snowed-over safety of the shore assured him he wouldn't be falling into the bone-chilling water.

"Thanks for the warning..."

Number 8 spoke plainly as he turned to the source of the aged voice, his eyes meeting the near amused eyes of a small older man with a hunched back, shaggy gray hair, and a green, poofy, woolen scarf littered with black squares on it. His dark, bundled-up winter coat was much higher quality than Number 8's white patchworked winter jacket.

"You're welcome. Though I must say, it's surprising to see such a young child out alone at this time of year..."

Number 8 blinked at the older man, surprised that his first comment about him was about his age rather than his clothing. It was a blessing in disguise since he didn't want to dive into why he was wearing something that would barely pass for a quilt.

"I'm not alone, my... friend," That was a strange word; number 8 would have to practice it, "went to get food."

Although considering they only had the money from Nano's parents, it was more likely that Vera would end up stealing a leftover meal or two. They still had to pay for tickets to cross the river, which meant cutting a few expenses here and there.

That didn't seem right to tell the old man, though, so he gestured to the water, "I stayed to look at the river."

The old man nodded thoughtfully at Number 8's answer, his eyes opening slightly to reveal a pair of aged green irises that appraised him in a new light, "I'm surprised... not many people can appreciate the little things. My apprentice was always hurrying to grow up; it would have been better if he slowed down like you."

Number 8 tilted his head as he saw the older man sigh tiredly before sitting at the shore's edge. Number 8 doing the same since the old man seemed interesting, "Apprentice? Are you a mage?"

The old hummed, "No, but I was pretty good at using Magic Tools in my heyday, got good at using them after collecting so many," the old man's eyes seemed to tilt a little with pride, "My apprentice has done much better, though; he even modified my old staff. Uses it as his main weapon these days."

Number 8 tilted his head curiously as the old man let out an 'ah' before chuckling, "Oh my, where are my manners? My name is Torch Endeavor. What's yours?"

Number 8 froze, swallowing a hint of panic as he mumbled, "Um..."

Number 8 opened his mouth, frowning as the words that should have come quickly got stuck in his throat for a second, "It's... Eight."

Number 8 ignored the old man's searching yet patient gaze, stating plainly in a manner that he hoped would make it obvious he didn't want to explain further, "It's just Eight."

It seemed to do the trick because the old man gave a slight nod in response, his gaze turning back towards the horizon as he spoke with a small laugh, "Well then, Eight..."

Torch turned back to Number 8, offering a small smile as he spoke with a disarming tone, "Would you mind conversing with this old man while we wait?"

Surprisingly, Number 8 didn't feel like he minded at all.

Vera had just finished eating the meal he stole from one of the more prominent restaurants in town, courtesy of Sho, and he had to say...

Fish was one of the only good things Monne had going for it.

At least the food's good... everything else about this place sucks.

Vera was starting to think Monne was his least favorite stop in Isvan, and that was saying something since he'd almost died back in Brago. The place reeked of fish; there were crowds, a lot of noise, and only a few food options. Even if he liked fish, he didn't know if he could handle eating it every day; it was bound to become as tasteless as slop if he did that.

I'll have to find a way to sneak onto the ship with Eight... that or steal someone's tickets.

Vera had stopped by the shipwrights before he went to find some food, and the price for tickets across the river would take up 90% of the money he got from Nano's parents. Vera would prefer not to blow all his money when he still had to worry about the rest of the trip to Fiore, at least not if he had other options...

He and Sho were currently scouting out said options.

"He looks pretty rich... you wanna try him, Sho?"

Vera turned to Sho from his spot at the edge of a nearby alleyway, across from the expensive restaurant he had Sho stolen from earlier. The town's wealthier people took seats and ordered the lobsters, crabs, and everything better than the 'plebian' fish...

Yeah, Vera was so going to steal from them.

"Hey Sho..."

Vera's words halted as he saw his shadow on the wall, dozing around as if looking at the clouds.

"Sho."

Vera felt his eyes twitch as the words failed to elicit a single reaction from the shadow.

"Sho!"

Vera hissed at Sho, a scowl taking his face as he felt his shadow stiffen and stand at mock attention. Vera pinched his nose as he looked at his shadow and forced himself to take a deep, calming breath, "Alright, Sho, as I was saying, what do you think of that guy?"

Vera pointed his thumb at a dude with a brown suit, twisted handlebar mustache, gray hair, and the rich elderly man vibe going well for him. A target he figured would have the most money, and he wanted to make sure Sho was up for it before they targeted him...

That's why he asked his shadow what he thought of the target...

The answer he got could have been more helpful.

'Tug?'

Vera blinked in response to Sho's near-hesitant shrug, a vein twitching in his forehead as he resisted the urge to slam his face into his palm, "You weren't paying attention to anything I said, were you?"

'Tug' 'Tug'

"Of course, you weren't..." Vera muttered in resignation, shaking his head as he let out a tired groan and leaned against the alleyway wall. An annoyed murmur escaped his lips as he looked disappointedly at his shadow, "Seriously, what was so important that you couldn't help me steal from the rich and give to the poor..."

Vera watched with growing expectations as Sho tilted his head and gave a shadow puppet explanation that made Vera question everything.

"What? The fish you're saving for Number 8 is distracting?"

Sho nodded, and Vera felt his brain short-circuit, "What... you... it... you can eat?"

Since when?

Vera watched with growing confusion as Sho seemed to huff from the wall and shake his head, giving a very unhelpful shadow mime explanation that gave Vera more questions than answers, "You think you liked the smell?"

What does that even mean?

Vera tried to figure out what it meant, but unfortunately, that seemed all Sho was willing to speak of the matter, and his shadow immediately waved off Vera's follow-up questions. Instead, Sho pointed to the older man with the whole aristocrat vibe going for him and tilted his head in question, a sign that Vera took as asking why he wanted to rob the dude blind.

"Really? You're just going to... you know what? Whatever..."

Vera had to force himself to ignore his curiosity, instead shaking his head and laying out the plan again, "We need to steal some money to pay for the tickets across the river. That or steal the tickets themselves, but I don't know if they're marked per person. Pure jewels would be better..."

Less traceable...

Vera watched Sho nod thoughtfully, seeming to understand the dilemma, before pointing to the older man and shaking his shadowed head. Instead, Sho reached into his shadow closet, as Vera liked to call it, and pulled out a handful of jewels...

Which was great; it meant Vera didn't have to worry about stealing for now...

There was only one problem.

"Uh... where did you get that?"

Vera looked at Sho in utter confusion as the jewels sunk back into the shadows, Sho's answer never coming to fruition as Vera felt his neck prickle in warning at that exact moment. A low, bland voice hit his ears before Vera instinctively jumped into the alleyway.

"Level 3: Lightning"

Vera felt the static in the air as a lightning bolt flashed through the ally, taking his sight away. Sho's guiding presence was the only thing saving Vera from crashing into the ground after being blinded. Vera's vision slowly returned once the two ducked into the alleyway and only had to worry about being attacked from one direction.

What the hell!?

Vera blinked the black spots out of his eyes, grimacing as he saw the lightly charred wall he had been leaning on a few moments earlier. His thoughts were whirling as he looked towards his shadow before hearing a dull voice from the entrance to the alley, "You shouldn't have done that..."

Vera flicked his gaze towards the new encounter while Sho hovered over him protectively, the two standing tensely as they spotted a young man covered in the brown, Eskimo-style garment. He was somewhat on the shorter side yet tall in how he walked towards them, with sharp green eyes and blond hair, an orange scarf with a single black square wrapped around his neck, and covering the lower half of his face.

"Now I have to take you in for thievery..."

Vera blinked in confusion as the man held a staff loosely in his hand, reminiscent of shamans' use. It was made of weather brown oak littered with intricate carvings, yet screamed a sense of sturdiness and held a crescent moon blade on the end of it. Small metal rings looped through slits in the blade's spine, and as he lowered it towards him with a practiced hand, they chimed lightly.

"The worse timing, too... Mr. Torch was looking forward to this vacation."

Vera stumbled in surprise as the man's voice twisted along with the world; a slight ringing started sounding off in his ears, making it feel like the ground was two inches to the left. The picture of the man spinning as he tried to find his balance, his shot equilibrium, made it feel like he was on the ship's deck in the center of a storm.

Goddammit...

Vera growled as he planted his feet on the ground, the man shaking the end of his staff with a warped crackle of electricity building on its end. The buildup of static coursed through the crescent blade, forming a small blue orb nestled between its curved blade that exploded with a lightning bolt, barreling towards him in a thin blue arc. Vera had a single, condescending thought before he was forced to fight the stranger who disapproved of Sho's newfound stealing habits.

I hate this shitty town.

Monne had officially become Vera's least favorite part of Isvan.

"So you're leaving Isvan, huh..."

Torch murmured thoughtfully as Number 8 gave a simple nod in response. Torch glanced at the young boy, similar to the one who helped him out at Black Voxx, before humming, "Any idea where you're going?"

Number 8 spoke, "Fiore."

Torch let out an 'ah' in understanding, "Ah, I guess that makes sense. A young mage like you would do well there..."

Number 8 nodded before flinching, his eyes narrowed, and muscles tensed as he analyzed Torch, "You knew I was a mage?"

I never mentioned that...

Number 8 eyed Torch, who gave a sad chuckle as he saw the young boy instantly switch to a more guarded expression. Holding up his hands slowly to show his honesty, Torch said, "I was a warden for half my life, boy. I'd be ashamed if I couldn't spot a mage..."

Especially such a talented one...

Torch's eyes crinkled as he saw the boy lose a little of the tension in his shoulders, "Oh... what prison?"

"Black Voxx. Have you heard of it? It's reserved for Isvan's more heinous criminals."

"Ah... no, I haven't," Number 8 hummed, not fully letting his guard down around the old man but no longer ready to bolt immediately. Instead of turning back to the river and asking with renewed curiosity, "Your apprentice... Groggo?"

"Grog."

"Grog, is he the new warden?" Number 8 asked, watching as Torch chuckled and nodded, "He is, although I've been trying to get him thinking a little larger than Black Vox. If I'm lucky, one day, he'll consider taking up a spot on the magic council as my successor; he's almost guaranteed a position."

Number 8 tilted his head at Torch's words, "The council?"

What's that?

The number looked on expectantly as Torch seemed to blink in surprise, a slight cough of embarrassment coming from his as he cleared his throat, "Uh... sorry, it's just been so long since anyone's asked that question..."

Torch thought it was common knowledge, especially for aspiring mages, but he figured there were new things to find at any age. Even if he was old, there were new things to learn and share, especially with this young mage that had caught his interest.

"Well, the magic council is the organization that enforces the rules and laws for the wizarding world. The guilds report to their decisions on legal matters, and anything involving cases of magical essence will ultimately fall on their desks."

Number 8 let out an 'ah' in understanding, his head tilted as he murmured under his breath, "So Vera and I will be under their jurisdiction, huh..."

That sounds... annoying.

Number 8 frowned as Torch laughed, "You make it seem like they'll be hounding you over every little thing! Relax, they won't bother you unless you make a mess of things."

They rarely ever get on mage's cases these days...

Torch chuckled as he tilted his head, "Which guild are you joining anyway?"

Well, except for-

"Fairy Tail."

Torch's heart almost stopped at Number 8's words, his eyes nearly shooting out of his head as he whipped to see Number 8's innocent, foolish confusion on full display. The poor young mage probably had no idea what guild he was trying to join and how right he was to be worried about the council.

"Are you okay?"

Number 8 asked, his brows furrowed as Torch gave a slight cough and shook his head, "Oh, of course. It's fine, just... I feel I should give you a fair warning. You'll likely deal with the Magic Council if you join Fairy Tail. They're..."

Torch paused as he tried to find a word that would be good for a child to hear, "Unique."

Torch winced as Number 8 narrowed his eyes, Torch hurrying the conversation along since he didn't want to talk about the long list of damages Fairy Tail had on its tab, "I even met one recently, you know?"

Now that seemed to eliminate Number 8's suspicions, and Torch took the boy's wide-eyed attention as a sign to continue, "Guildarts of the West, he faked being a prisoner at Black Voxx to get a bounty. Then, he stopped a riot and took a kid with him, probably a few years younger than you."

Number 8 blinked in surprise, unable to keep the genuine curiosity out of his voice, "Were they strong?"

Torch smirked, "Very. Guildarts, at least from what I know of, is one of the strongest mages in the West. The boy, Gray Fullbuster, has a lot of potential as well. His ice magic will take him far in the future."

"Ice magic?" Number 8 said out of surprise more than anything since the only ice mage he had known wasn't the most fond of him at the moment...

She was powerful, though.

Well, I doubt that this 'Gray' is better than Ultear...

His thoughts seemed correct because, as Torch described the fight, Number 8 didn't hear Gray creating anything on the same level as Ultear. The maker magic seemed different, too; it sounded like Gray practiced static maker magic, while Ultear's was closer to dynamic.

Guildarts, on the other hand...

He sounded like someone stronger than Ultear...

He sounded like the most powerful person Number 8 had ever heard of, if he was being honest.

"Crush magic..."

Number 8 murmured, shivering at the familiar tone it held. A magic that was the opposite of Nano's, a magic meant to destroy and nothing else. Number 8 didn't even want to think of how strong that could be in the hands of someone who knew how to use it.

"Yeah, it was mighty..." Torch murmured in recollection, his head tilting as he asked Number 8, "What about you? What's your magic?"

Torch watched as Number 8 wordlessly held his hand up and manipulated threads from his fingertips. The boy seemingly didn't see or wasn't interested in Torch's disappointment upon seeing such everyday magic.

Oh... that could be an issue.

Especially one being utilized by a boy who wished to join a magic guild, where danger was given in a mage's everyday life.

"Well, if there's one thing I can say about Fairy Tail, their mages are strong. You should be able to learn stronger magic once you go there..."

Torch offered an appeasing smile at Number 8; his attempts at cheering the boy up stopped dead as he saw Number 8 staring at him with a simple yet profoundly ingrained confusion, "What are you talking about?"

Torch blinked as Number 8 held a thousand-mile stare, his words falling as naturally and powerfully as the slushing waves, "I love my magic..."

Torch could almost believe they were as deeply ingrained into him as breathing, so much so that it made him feel foolish for asking such a question, "Why would I learn anything else?"

Torch had spent half his life around mages, and good or bad, almost all of them were creatures of conviction.

They lived and died by their magic...

It was foolish of him to assume just because he was young, Number 8 would be any different.

"Well... my apologies then. I'm sure you'll do fine."

Torch gave Number 8 an apologetic smile before turning to the ocean with a relieved sigh, his eyes pointing towards the ocean as he listened to the gentle waves. The soft murmur of the ocean and the townsfolk's occasional comments calmed his heart, letting him enjoy the fleeting moment.

Until an explosion reminiscent of a lightning strike tore him out of his revelry.

Oh, please don't tell me...

Torch looked back at the streets in horror as he saw flashes of blue light in the alleyways of Monne, the static barely creaking out over the tops of the houses and the constant crackle of lightning adding a slight thrum to the dull morning.

Oh no...

Torch slumped in resignation as he heard his protege's gruff and all too serious voice yell out over the small commotion.

"Stop running, thief!"

Which was then answered by an equally loud yet seemingly younger shout, "Make me dickhead!"

Torch let out a tired groan as another crackle of lightning sounded in response, muttering while the young conversationalist beside him cursed similarly under his breath.

"Oh Grog..." / "Goddammit Vera..."

Torch blinked in surprise, turning to meet Number 8's equally surprised gaze, the two stilling in surprise before the sound of battle brought them out of it. The two glanced at the commotion before nodding to signal they would sort out any misunderstandings later.

The two then stood up and walked towards the commotion that had moved to the center of the town, going off the growing sounds of confusion among the townsfolk.

"YOU'RE RUINING MR. TORCH'S VACATION!"

"YOU'RE RUINING MY ENTIRE WEEK!"

Hopefully, they made it before their two knuckleheads destroyed anything too important.

Grog Foto was the warden of Black Voxx; he was honor-bound to step in if he saw a crime committed. It would go against what he stood for if he let a crime go unpunished, no matter who committed it.

The street rat with short black hair, piercing red eyes, and a patchwork winter coat was no exception, even if he was incredible. They had been fighting for a couple of minutes at this point...

Grog was honestly impressed.

He's like a wild animal...

Every time Grog got close, the boy would use his magic to stall and reposition. Ducking into alleys and between crowds to get away from him. Like a dog trying to shake a hunter, using everything and anything to gain an advantage.

I'll have to see if he would consider training after all of this... maybe he could become a new guard at Black Voxx?

It was something for Grog to consider, but he could do that later when he wasn't chasing the thief through an alley. The boy ran through a straightaway that funneled into a turn up ahead, shouting over his shoulder as had been the norm during their fight.

"Don't you have anything better to do!?"

"No!"

Grog heard the boy curse before he sent his dark magic after Grog once again, the shadowed man blocking the boy's retreat.

"Level 3: Lightning"

For the third time since the chase started, lightning struck the shadow and sent it back to its owner. Grog narrowed his eyes as he saw the thief vaulting over a dumpster and dash towards the corner; the fading footsteps of the boy drowned out as Grog lowered his staff and shook it slightly.

"Level 1: Chime"

The chimes on his staff rattled slightly, ringing with a gentle echo that made the boy stumble in his run. A growl escaped the boy's lips as he grabbed a stray box and threw it behind him with a pissed-off expression, "Stop fucking doing that! It's annoying!"

Grog ignored the boy's yells as he quickly vaulted over the dumpster and destroyed the boxes with a staff swing. Grog narrowed his eyes as the boy stumbled around the corner and escaped his sight, "Get back here!"

Grog dashed to the corner the boy had taken, turning before he met a fist that landed plainly in his gut. The breath escaped Grog's lungs as he was slammed back into the alley wall, his eyes wide as he heard an exasperated sigh, "Fucking finally..."

Grog tilted his head out instinct as a thin fist planted itself in the wall, his dull green eyes meeting the boy's red eyes. The boy muttered through clenched teeth, a hint of a bloody tongue answering Grog's question about how he escaped Chime so quickly, "You're seriously pissing me off."

Grog moved his staff and blocked the kick the boy sent next; his eyes narrowed as he felt its lightness. A belated understanding came to him as the boy's shadow came from his left, burying a fist in his raised forearm and pushing him back a few feet. Grog was now firmly on the corner of the alley with the walls at his back.

So, the shadow has the power...

Grog ignored his shaking forearm and gripped his staff in a single hand before shooting the crescent blade toward the shadow with the speed of a lance. His attack halted mid-way as he was forced to lean back, and a stray plank shattered where his head had once been. The boy holding the broken stick like a bat as he glared at Grog with venom in his voice, "Stop moving..."

Yet the boy is more dangerous...

Grog let out a deep breath as he tried to swing his staff around to catch the boy in the stomach without killing him. A stiff thud brought his attention to the non-bladed portion of his staff stuck on the wall.

He's smart too.

Grog clicked his tongue as he took notice of the corner he'd been lured into during the chase. He was pincered on his right and left, with a wall to his back.

The boy attacks less than the shadow...

Every time he focused on one, the other would attack, the shadow blocking his exit to the right and the boy blocking the one to the left. They were layering into him, and a stray attack slipped by with every attack he dodged or blocked. He was getting covered in bruises from the shadow and cuts from the boy.

The shadow aims for limbs...

If he wanted to escape, he'd have to take one of them out, preferably before they wore him down and he lost his hold on them.

The boy aims for vitals...

That's if he wanted to escape...

I better disarm the boy first.

Grog was never looking to escape in the first place.

"Level 2"

Grog grabbed his staff in two hands, the inscription glowing blue as he saw the boy and the shadow try to attack him at that moment —jumping at the opening that Grog had left them, pouncing at his weakness without hesitation.

Grog had expected nothing less, so he chose the less damaging option when they jumped. He jumped towards the shadow and slipped past a shadowed fist that left a cut on his cheek. Grog used their new closeness to kick the shadow away from him just in time for him to turn and see the boy with a kick poised for his throat.

This'll hurt...

Grog groaned as the boy planted his heel in Grog's Adam's apple. The only thing saving his voice was the scarf that cushioned the blow.

But it'll be worth it.

Grog pushed past the pain as his staff hissed and broke into two trembling pieces, a blunt baton in his left and a sickle in his right. Grog grit his teeth as he slammed his weapons together, and a noise similar in intensity to a sonic boom exploded from contact.

"Thunder"

The boom popped his ears and stunned him slightly, but it was nothing compared to the boy who hadn't seen it coming. The boy's eyes shook, and his hands reflexively went to his bleeding ears, an opening that Grog took advantage of as he slammed the end of his baton into the boy's stomach.

"Gah!"

The boy coughed up spit as the baton ripped his breath from his lungs; the boy could barely get his arm in front of him as Grog sent a front kick that sent the boy flying out of the alleyway.

'Crash'

Grog released a shaky breath as he saw the boy crash through an open stall on the opposite side of the street; the sounds of growing commotion made Grog realize they were near the marketplace by the town center. It was an accident on his part since he didn't want to involve civilians in their battle.

Torch is going to be mad...

Grog wasn't looking forward to that but could deal with it later. Right now, he had to detain the criminal, although there was a slight possibility that the boy hadn't been knocked out by his last kick.

Well, if that's the case then-

Grog froze as his neck prickled in warning, his eyes wide as he leaned back and saw a shadowed claw pierce through the space his head had been at and buried itself into the wall. Grog's eyes narrowed as he firmly gripped his weapons and met the blank, unmoving face of the shadow who removed his razor-sharp fingers from the wall.

"I assume that means you'll only attack lethally if the boy is in danger."

Grog didn't get an answer, but he figured his guess was accurate, considering he had to put his sickle between a claw aimed at his stomach and ready to gut him like a fish.

"Well then..."

Grog kneed the shadow, his teeth grit as the shadow didn't so much as flinch. Grog parried a hand that stabbed at him like a spear before bringing down his baton and slamming it into the shadow's head. Its gong-like sound deafened the alley and blew apart the snow surrounding them. Revealing the shadow's dark legs digging into the ground before they seemed to waver and fade.

"That's good to know."

Grog released a tired breath as he saw the shadow dissolve and slink back to the marketplace where the boy was, slipping to the right of the exit and disappearing from Grog's sight. Grog's eyes narrowed as he walked towards the town center, this time doing a quick check around the corners before stepping out into the open. Grog glanced at the broken stall on the other end of the street before putting his staff back together.

He's not here...

Grog clicked his tongue as he looked around the town center, an uncomplicated circular expanse with a still fountain in the center. The town stalls wrapped around the plaza's edge, with the open stores behind it. All the pedestrians were out of the way and hiding in the stores, peeking at him through the storefronts to see the cause of the commotion.

Grog took that moment to raise a hand in what he hoped was a sign of goodwill, looking at the old shopkeeper hovering behind the door to the store closest to him, "Excuse me, I'm the warden from Black Voxx. Is there any chance you can tell me where the boy with the white coat went? I need to take him in for thievery."

Grog watched as the older man seemed to gape at him, casting a weary glance at the broken stall before rubbing his neck and gulping. The older man didn't say a word but pointed up, a simple gesture that made Grog's hair stand on its end. Grog's eyes widened as he whipped his head up to see the boy rocketing towards him from the top of the roof, his leg raised like an axe aiming to split his head open.

"Damn snitch!"

The boy cursed as he slammed his foot down; Grog could barely get his staff above his head with the time the older man bought him. Grog groaned under the surprising pressure before he tilted his spear and slid the force of the kick past him and toward the ground.

Grog felt his senses tingle as the boy landed on the ground and immediately crouched. Instinct allowed Grog to put the staff between himself and the boy's fist that had appeared before him faster than he could blink.

How?

Grit clenched his jaw before he kicked the bottom of his staff into the boy's stomach. A grunt came from the boy, who instantly snatched the end of the staff and sent a stray punch at Grog. Grog's movements were controlled and precise as he tilted his head, and the fist grazed past his cheek...

Only for a delayed, shadowed fist to be planted in his nose and snapped his head back from the force. The world tilted as he felt his brain rattle around; the damage furthered once he felt the shadow's foot bury itself in his gut. Grog could only groan as he was sent flying into a market stall.

Shit...

Grog groaned as he forced himself to a stand, his eyes narrowing on the two blurry images of the boy walking towards him. The concussion messed with his senses enough to warrant him making minor adjustments to his earlier strategy.

"Level 4: Healing Hymn"

Grog shook his staff lightly as a gentle chime flew through the air, his breath returning as he felt his concussion slowly fade. The dull thrum in his ears from repeated use of Thunder slowly stitched itself back together until his senses were clear enough to get a good look at the boy.

"Huh?"

The boy exclaimed in surprise, blinking at Grog as the hymn healed the boy's more severe injuries. The boy's busted eardrums from the alleyway healed enough to voice a question without sounding like mush.

"The hell? How'd you do that?" the boy scowled, "You couldn't have done that before?"

Grog shrugged, cracking his neck and feeling sore but no longer aching muscles cheering at the action. Grog shook his head as he settled his staff on his shoulder and peered at the boy, "Level 4 can only be used once daily, and it's the highest level I can use now. I hoped to use it once you were captured so that the injuries from our fight wouldn't carry over to the station, but..."

Grog lowered his staff and dropped into a wide stance, "You'll just have to deal with them till we find a healer."

The boy growled and crouched low, "Go fuck yourself..."

Grog kept his eyes trained as the boy lowered himself to the ground, the shadow underneath the boy squirming oddly as his body seemed to coil like a spring. The tension in the air was palpable, a second from snapping as Grog got ready to counter any other surprise the boy had in store for him.

"Grog!"

Until a pair of loud, seemingly annoyed voices startled both combatants out of their fight.

"Vera!"

Grog and Vera blinked surprisedly and instantly flicked their heads towards the newcomers. Grog's eyes widened as he saw Torch walking towards them with a boy with a similar coat to Vera.

"Mr. Torch?" / "Eight?"

Vera and Grog looked at each other in surprise before the two started glaring at each other. The sparks from the earlier confrontation flew between them before their teammates got closer. The harsh words from Number 8 and Torch sent shivers down Vera and Grog's spines.

"Vera, I swear to god if you break anything else..." / "Grog, I'm too old to deal with this..."

With their respective glares, Number 8 and Torch steered the two idiots off from furthering the damage they did around the city.

The damages ended up taking the entire day to sort out, with the only saving grace for Vera and Number 8 being that Torch, bless his soul, was willing to pay their tab and the ticket for the boat across the river on the condition that Vera returned the jewels Sho had stolen from the asshole back at the station...

Needless to say, it was a long, long day in Monne.

Torch felt a sigh leave his tired lungs as the boat faded into the dusk-colored horizon, his aching body turning to meet Grog's downcast gaze from next to him. Grog bowed slightly, probably the tenth time since Torch intervened in his fight, and apologized, "I'm sorry Mr. Torch! I'm ashamed to admit I was caught up in the battle and didn't realize the damage we caused! Please accept my apology!"

"I accepted it the last nine times, Grog..." Torch said with a slumped laugh, shaking his head as he patted Grog on the shoulder and started walking back towards the hotel, "Come on, Grog. We might as well get some shut-eye to enjoy the sights the town offers."

Grog seemed to wilt even more at his words as he followed dutifully behind Torch, "I'm sorry you had to use the money for the vacation on the repairs, Mr. Torch. I know you wanted to see how your old friend's guild was doing..."

Torch chuckled at Grog's apology, "Oh, that shabby old thing? Relax, Grog, I'm sure it's still standing. If that bastard did anything right, it was choosing a competent successor."

Torch shook his head as he walked through the crowds Monne, a bit of reminiscence tinting his voice with the wistfulness of an older time, when he was younger and dumber about the truths of the world, "Besides..."

Torch chuckled as he remembered the old guild he had wanted to visit, a relic of the harsh past Fiore hid behind promises of bright futures and magical innovations, "Last time I checked, they're still ranked the number one guild in Fiore."

Torch glanced back at Grog with a smile before slipping over his apprentice's shoulder to the horizon that hid wonders beyond its borders. Wonders that those two boys, wherever they ended up, would most likely add to. Those two boys stood out even among the newer generation, seemingly teeming with geniuses.

"With those boys in the mix, though, who knows what will happen."

If Grog agreed with that statement, he didn't show it; he gave a slight nod, probably not wanting to talk about the child that had given him so much trouble. Grog's barely hidden annoyance got a laugh out of Torch, who waved his hand placatingly at Grog.

"Come on, we can eat some salmon before we hit the hay. These old bones need some meat in them. Otherwise, they'll ache the entire night."

Torch strolled with an appeased Grog following behind, the two leaving the strange boys and their fates in the west for another day. The most the two could do was give silent hopes that they wouldn't run into too much trouble on their way out of Isvan and into Fiore...

"I'll pay Oak Town a visit some other time."

The country that seemed to have a funny habit of leading people to where they needed to be.