The marketplace pulsed with energy, the ebb and flow of bodies creating a current of motion that should have made it easy to track someone distinct. Tia and Tina moved within it like shadows, weaving through the crowd, never losing sight of their quarry.
He moved with unhurried ease, pausing at stalls, exchanging brief words with a guard, then a merchant. Nothing about his behavior suggested an attempt to evade, no erratic movements or sharp turns to shake pursuit. His actions were deliberate, casual even—too casual.
Tina's lips quirked faintly as she leaned toward Tia. "What's your read? Just a guy with expensive taste?"
Tia didn't look at her, her gaze fixed on the man as he ran a gloved hand over the edge of a blade displayed at a weapons stall. "No. He's too polished for that."
Tina raised an eyebrow, glancing again at the man's wide-brimmed hat and finely wrought armor. "Polished? You're not just admiring his gear, are you?"
"Focus," Tia snapped quietly, though there was no heat in her voice.
Tina chuckled under her breath, keeping her pace steady. "I'm just saying, so far he's looking more 'collector' than 'threat.'"
And then he was gone.
The realization hit Tia first, her stride faltering as her gaze swept the area where he had been. Tina caught the shift in her sister's posture immediately, her own movements freezing as her instincts kicked in. She turned her head slightly, her voice low. "What is it?"
Tia didn't answer. Her steps slowed, her sharp gaze sweeping the throng, cutting through the blur of moving bodies. There was no sign of the hat, no trace of the crimson plume that had marked him like a beacon moments ago.
"He was right there," Tina said, her voice low but tight with disbelief.
Tia's jaw tightened. "I know." Her eyes darted to the side streets, the spaces between the stalls, the rooftops. Nothing.
"This doesn't make sense," Tina continued, her tone edged with frustration. "He wasn't even trying to lose us. We were right on him."
Tia's gaze snapped to her twin. "I saw." Her words were clipped, almost biting, though not directed at Tina. Her frustration simmered beneath the surface, manifesting in the tense set of her shoulders.
"Maybe he slipped into a stall," Tina offered, though her tone carried little conviction.
Tia shook her head, her movements stiff. "No. There wasn't time. He didn't have the angle."
Tina crossed her arms, her fingers drumming against her sleeve. "Alright, then what? Magic?"
"If it was, he didn't cast anything we'd notice." Tia's voice was colder now, her irritation channeled into focus. "He didn't carry himself like a caster. If anything, he moved like..." She trailed off, the thought unfinished.
"Like what?" Tina prompted, her voice quieter.
Tia didn't respond immediately. Her gaze lingered on the crowd, her mind replaying the moments before he vanished. The way he'd moved, deliberate but unhurried. The way he'd seemed to merge with the flow of the market, never drawing too much attention. It wasn't a trick she hadn't seen before, but it was one few could execute with such ease.
"Someone who knows how not to be found," she said finally.
Tina's expression darkened slightly. "Not by us. That's not supposed to happen."
"It did," Tia replied tersely, though her voice lacked its usual sharpness. Losing a target wasn't something they were accustomed to. Their reputation as Blue Rose's Twin Killers had been built on precision and skill—tracking, shadowing, eliminating. Losing someone in the open? Inexcusable.
Tina exhaled slowly, forcing herself to relax. "Alright. So, what now?"
Tia's eyes narrowed, her gaze fixed on where the man had last been. "We regroup. Keep an ear to the ground. Someone like that doesn't just vanish without leaving a ripple."
Tina nodded, her fingers brushing the hilt of her dagger. "Fine. But I don't like it."
"Neither do I," Tia admitted, her tone softening, though the edge of frustration remained.
The marketplace swirled around them, the noise and movement of the crowd oblivious to their disquiet. Tia's gaze lingered for a moment longer before she turned away, her stride steady but stiff.
For all their skill, for all their experience, they'd lost him. And no matter how she tried to rationalize it, Tia couldn't shake the gnawing thought that it hadn't been an accident.
Unbeknownst to the twins, the hunter had become the hunted.
Amid the bustling crowd, a comely lass moved with practiced grace, weaving effortlessly through the throng. A woven basket hung from one hand, its contents—a few fresh loaves and a sprig of herbs—peeking out in disarming simplicity. Her other hand brushed her skirt as she walked, the gesture casual, even absent-minded. But her eyes, blue as a summer sky, held a glint of mischief that belied the placid smile on her lips.
She followed the twins with precision, her pace measured to maintain the illusion of aimlessness. There was no hesitance in her movements, no misplaced step to betray her intent. The crowd seemed to part naturally for her, as though the marketplace itself conspired to aid her passage.
Every so often, she paused—pretending to inspect a display of trinkets, tilting her head at a vendor's call, or adjusting the basket in her hand. Each movement was deliberate, each action designed to blend seamlessly into the background of market life. Yet her attention never wavered from the two figures ahead of her.
Tina's laugh carried faintly over the crowd as she gestured animatedly toward a vendor, masking her frustration at losing their quarry. Beside her, Tia's movements were more restrained, her focus sharp as she scanned the marketplace once again. The lass's smile widened, a hint of satisfaction in the curve of her lips.
She was no mere observer. She was a creation—conjured into being with meticulous detail and imbued with purpose through Simulacrum.
From a hidden vantage point, the man watched his creation at work, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The twins had been tracking him with admirable tenacity—skilled, no doubt, and sharp in their craft. But tracking was only one part of the game.
He had decided to introduce them to the other.
The lass tilted her head slightly, her smile never faltering as she approached a stall near the twins. She lingered there for a moment, feigning interest in a collection of ribbons on display. Then, with a light step, she moved closer, her basket shifting in her hand as though to suggest she'd simply drifted into their orbit by chance.
For now, her role was simple: observe, misdirect, and ensure the twins remained unaware of the shift in roles. But her presence was more than a tool—it was a test, a silent declaration from her master.
How long would it take the twins to realize they were being tailed?
From his vantage point, the man observed the crowd below with a detached calm, his gaze fixed on the two women weaving through the market. Their movements were practiced, calculated—clearly no ordinary shoppers. He leaned lightly against the shadowed eave of a rooftop, his silhouette hidden by the faint shimmer of magical concealment.
Luck had been his ally today. It was a slight shift in the ambient noise, a murmur behind him in the crowd, that had tipped him off. Experience had done the rest. Years In Yggdrasil's cutthroat PvP environment had honed his instincts to a razor's edge. The faint pressure at his back, the subtle rhythm of footsteps never quite fading—he recognized the signs as clearly as a blade poised to strike. Someone had been tracking him.
The realization had brought a flicker of curiosity, then a surge of caution. He hadn't survived the endless battles of Yggdrasil's competitive scene by being careless. So, he had slipped away—methodically, deliberately, and with no wasted motion.
The process had been precise.
First, he cast [Mesmerize, a subtle enchantment that bent the perception of those around him, making him seem unremarkable—just another figure among the throng. It wasn't invisibility, but for the untrained eye, it might as well have been. People instinctively overlooked him, their gazes sliding away without thought.
Then came [Silent Image]. The spell wasn't invisibility in the strictest sense—he didn't vanish entirely—but the subtle bending of light around him refracted his figure into something faint, indistinct, nearly imperceptible to the naked eye. To the casual observer, he was nothing more than a ghostly ripple in their periphery, easily dismissed as a trick of light or an idle distraction.
Lastly, erring on the side of caution, he had invoked [Simulacrum]. The spell conjured a near-perfect copy of a figure that blended into the bustling market seamlessly—a woman, bright and unassuming, with a basket on her arm and a pleasant smile on her face. She was crafted with meticulous care, her appearance ordinary enough to avoid suspicion but animated with enough purpose to tail his pursuers unnoticed.
His lips quirked into a faint smile as he watched the woman move. The twins had no idea. Even now, their eyes scanned the crowd for him, their movements efficient and deliberate as they sought to regain their quarry.
And he recognized them.
The night before, when he had first found himself in this strange, vivid world, they had been among the ones he encountered. Their fighting style, their coordination—it was unmistakable. He hadn't lingered long enough to learn their names or allegiances, but he remembered the rhythm of their attacks, the precision of their strikes.
Luck, he mused, had spared him from an unpleasant encounter just now. If his instincts hadn't been honed by countless hours of battle in Yggdrasil's most brutal PvP, he might not have noticed their pursuit until it was too late. But recognizing a tail was second nature, and shaking one was a skill perfected over years of outwitting human opponents far more cunning than any AI.
Below, the simulacrum continued its work, its basket swaying lightly as it moved with an almost imperceptible focus on the twins. Should they notice the construct and act against it—whether through evasion or attack—it would make no difference. The illusion was designed to dissipate on contact, leaving nothing but the faintest shimmer in its place. No connection to him, no clue as to his location.
Safe, he thought, tilting his head as he observed. For now.
The twins moved in tandem, their focus sharp as they continued their search. He admired their persistence, even if it was misplaced. It was clear they were skilled—adamantite adventurers, perhaps? If so, their tenacity made sense.
But skill alone wasn't enough. He'd learned that long ago, in the cutthroat world of Yggdrasil's clan wars and PvP showdowns. Foresight, adaptability, and misdirection—those were the tools that won battles, and those tools had brought him here, unseen and unbothered.
The market below bustled on, oblivious to the silent game unfolding in its midst. For now, he would wait, content to let the illusionary lass do her work.
Satisfied with the construct's subtle movements and the twins' preoccupied pursuit, he slipped away, his steps silent against the rooftops. The mental link with the simulacrum pulsed faintly in the back of his mind, a steady thread of connection that allowed him to monitor its progress. If anything pressing arose—an attack, a sudden change in behavior—it would alert him instantly. Otherwise, the simulacrum would continue its quiet task: tracking the twins, mapping their routines, and gleaning what information it could from the streets of E-Rantel.
For now, he turned his attention elsewhere.
The city unfolded below him, sprawling and layered, a patchwork of bustling marketplaces, narrow alleys, and towering walls. It was vibrant yet unfamiliar, and each step he took further revealed its intricacies. He had much to learn—how the city functioned, who held power, and what resources could be exploited to shape his new existence in this world.
He moved with purpose, his gaze sweeping over the streets and rooftops alike. His gear and spells ensured he remained unnoticed, his presence nothing more than a shadow flitting from one vantage point to the next.
This was reconnaissance, plain and simple—a foundational step in understanding his surroundings and determining his next moves. As much as he admired the thrill of the unknown, his instincts urged him to build a framework for survival and control. In Yggdrasil, preparation had been paramount; here, it seemed, the same principles would apply.
The city's layout began to take form in his mind, each district a puzzle piece slotting into place. He noted the flow of traffic, the density of guards, the locations of shops, taverns, and guild halls. Here and there, conversations drifted to him—snatches of gossip, bartering voices, and the occasional bark of authority.
Every detail was filed away, a web of information steadily growing as he moved. The simulacrum's steady updates added another layer, its own observations augmenting his view of the city's pulse. The twins were proving interesting, their movements methodical but betraying hints of frustration.
He paused at the edge of a rooftop, the city sprawling before him like a living map. His mind worked through the variables: what he had, what he needed, and how best to begin. He was no stranger to starting from scratch—Yggdrasil had seen to that. But here, the stakes were higher, and the rules of the game were yet unknown.
For now, reconnaissance would suffice.
"I tire of this," Tina muttered, her frustration bleeding into her tone.
Tia didn't respond immediately, but the faint crease in her brow mirrored her twin's sentiment. An hour had slipped by, wasted on fruitless attempts to regain sight of their quarry.
"We don't have all day," Tina continued, her voice lower now but no less pointed. "There's still gear to replace, supplies to restock... and this goose chase is getting us nowhere."
Tia exhaled softly, her gaze sweeping their surroundings one last time before nodding. "Agreed. Back to the market."
Their pace quickened as they retraced their steps, slipping back into the bustling heart of the city. The market, alive with the hum of voices and clatter of trade, offered little reprieve from their earlier frustrations.
At each stall, they stopped with purpose, their focus shifting to the task at hand. Damaged gear was exchanged for sturdier replacements, potions added to their packs, and tools inspected with care.
Whilst Tina lingered at another stall, Tia was examining a set of bracers.
Tina rolled her eyes but complied, sifting through the offerings with a languid grace. "If this keeps up, I'm charging Gagaran double next time she breaks her gear," she muttered, earning a faint smirk from her sister.
By the time they stepped out of the last shop, their packs were heavier, and their steps lighter.
"If he's still out there, he'd better enjoy the head start," Tina said, casting a glance over her shoulder.
Tia didn't reply, but the shift in her gaze spoke volumes.
It wasn't until their errands were finished and they had stepped into the familiar warmth of the inn—a favored refuge for adventurers of their rank—that Tina felt it. A faint disturbance, like the ripple of a pebble tossed into still water.
She paused mid-stride, her brow furrowing as the sensation vanished as quickly as it had come, leaving no trace.
"Tina?" Tia's voice was low, barely a question, as she caught the shift in her sister's demeanor.
Tina turned to her, her expression unreadable, but the sharp glint in her eyes conveyed what words didn't. She nodded once, a silent confirmation.
The unease was subtle but unmistakable, threading through them both as they exchanged a brief glance.
Whatever it was, it had slipped past them unnoticed.
Gagaran's voice cut through the moment, her booming voice cutting through the murmurs of the room. "About time! Thought you'd gone off and joined another party," she teased, arms crossed with her usual grin.
Tina forced a smirk, her response light but distracted. "Us? Never."
Gagaran, oblivious to the tension in her companions, turned on her heel. "Well, don't just stand there! You're just in time. Dinner's hot, and I'm not waiting for you slowpokes."
But neither twin moved immediately. Tia's hand rested lightly on the strap of her pack, her gaze distant as though replaying the day's events. Tina shifted on her feet, the earlier disturbance gnawing at her, though she couldn't explain why.
The sensation lingered in their thoughts, like a veil pulled just long enough to obscure the truth before vanishing entirely.