???'s PoV
The sound of crashing waves rocked the ship gently as it sailed under the moonlit sky. Huddled in the cramped space of a wooden barrel, the girl pulled her tattered cloak tighter around her. The sea breeze that swept through the cracks in the ship's hull chilled her to the bone. She had no idea where the ship was headed, but for now, that didn't matter. She had escaped.
Her mind raced, going over the series of events that had led her to this moment. She had been running for days, her legs burning, her heart pounding in her chest as she fled from her pursuers. Those men... those mysterious, ruthless men who had been chasing her without rest. She had no idea why, no clear reason for their pursuit, but they were relentless. Every time she thought she had lost them, they reappeared, forcing her to keep running.
It wasn't until she stumbled into the harbor, breathless and desperate, that she found a brief respite. The ship was there, docked and ready to set sail. With no other options, she had slipped aboard unnoticed, hiding in the shadows until the crew departed. It had seemed like a stroke of luck at the time. Now, as she crouched in the cramped barrel, her stomach growling with hunger, she wasn't so sure.
Her silver hair, long and unkempt, brushed against her cheeks as she shifted slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position. She couldn't risk being seen by the crew, so she stayed perfectly still, listening to the muffled sounds of sailors above deck. Days had passed in this miserable state, and now she was nearing her breaking point.
"Where are they taking me?" she thought, her mind heavy with exhaustion. It didn't matter, she supposed. Anywhere was better than where she had come from. Her body ached, her muscles stiff from the cramped space, but she couldn't afford to move. Not yet. Not until she was sure it was safe.
Hours passed like an eternity, and finally, the ship began to slow. The girl tensed, hearing the sailors shout orders. They were docking. Her heart pounded in her chest. This was her chance.
As quietly as she could, she eased herself out of the barrel, her legs trembling as they took on her full weight. She crouched low, moving carefully through the cargo hold, her silver hair falling over her eyes. She pushed open the door that led to the deck, squinting as the light of dawn greeted her.
The port was unfamiliar, bustling with activity as the ship's crew unloaded its cargo. Taking a deep breath, she pulled her hood low over her face and slipped down the gangplank, blending into the crowd. No one noticed her. She was just another shadow among many.
But once her feet hit solid ground, she realized just how lost she truly was.
---
The streets of the Grand Duchy bustled with life, and yet she felt more alone than ever. Exhaustion weighed heavily on her, and her stomach twisted with hunger. She had been running for so long, but now... where would she go? She had no food, no money, and no idea where she was.
The docks had been behind her for hours now, but the further she ventured into the city, the more lost she felt. Her legs dragged, her head spinning from hunger. She stumbled once, twice, but kept moving. She had to keep moving. If she stopped, they would find her. They always did.
Her heart sank as she reached a quiet alley, her strength failing her at last. She leaned against the cold stone wall, struggling to catch her breath. Just a moment, she told herself. Just one moment to rest.
But fate had other plans.
A sharp voice broke through the fog in her mind. "Well, well, what do we have here?"
She snapped her head up, her hood falling slightly, revealing a glimpse of her silver hair. Three men approached her from the shadows, their eyes gleaming with malice. They were rough-looking, their clothes worn and dirty, but their movements were sharp, calculated. She could feel the dangerous energy rolling off of them.
Fear spiked through her as she tried to push herself away from the wall, but her legs were too weak. She couldn't run. Not this time.
"Looks like we found ourselves a lost little mouse," one of the thugs sneered, stepping closer. His eyes gleamed with cruel amusement. "What's a girl like you doing all alone in a place like this?"
The other two chuckled darkly, circling her like vultures. Her heart raced, panic clawing at her throat. She had to do something, but what? She had no strength left, no way to defend herself.
"Please," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Just leave me alone."
But they didn't listen.
One of them grabbed her by the arm, yanking her forward roughly. She stumbled, nearly falling, but managed to stay on her feet.
"Let's see what you're hiding under that hood," he said with a sneer, his hand reaching for her cloak.
She tried to pull away, but she was too weak. Her vision blurred as the world spun around her. This was it. This was how it would end.
Suddenly, a shadow moved in the corner of her eye.
---
Marcus Aurelius had been wandering the streets, his mind preoccupied with the lingering remnants of his dream. The eerie voice, the haunting memories of his past life—they clung to him like a shroud. He had hoped a walk through the city would clear his mind, but instead, it only deepened his unease.
His hood was pulled low over his face, obscuring his features as he moved through the quiet streets. But something caught his attention. A group of men, their voices low and menacing, stood in the alley ahead. And in the center of them was a girl—a small, frail figure with silver hair barely visible beneath her hood.
Marcus felt a surge of anger course through him as he realized what was happening. These men, no doubt low-level thugs, were preying on someone weaker than them. He couldn't let it happen.
He approached quietly, assessing the situation. There were three of them, all roughly around level 30 to 50—a group of mid to high-tier 1 adepts. He hadn't awakened yet, but his mysterious constitution gave him the physical prowess to match them. It wouldn't be an easy fight, but he could take them.
The thug holding the girl's arm grinned, reaching for her hood. But before he could pull it back, Marcus spoke.
"Let her go."
His voice was calm, but it carried a weight that made the men pause. Slowly, they turned to face him, their expressions shifting from amusement to irritation.
"Who the hell are you?" one of them spat, tightening his grip on the girl's arm.
Marcus stepped forward, his stance steady. "I won't ask again. Let her go."
The leader of the group—a burly man with a crooked nose and scarred hands—sneered. "You think you can take us? You're just one man."
Marcus didn't respond. Instead, he pulled back his hood, revealing his face. His grey eyes, cold and sharp, locked onto the thug's. There was no hesitation in his gaze, no fear.
The thug hesitated for a moment before scoffing. "You've got guts, but you're outnumbered."
Without warning, Marcus moved. His fist connected with the man's jaw, sending him staggering back. The other two rushed at him, but Marcus was faster. He ducked under one of their punches, delivering a swift kick to the back of his knee, causing him to crumple to the ground.
The third man, realizing they were up against more than just an ordinary opponent, drew a dagger from his belt. He lunged at Marcus, but Marcus sidestepped the attack with ease, his movements fluid and precise. With a quick strike, he disarmed the thug, sending the dagger clattering to the ground.
The fight was over in seconds. The thugs, battered and humiliated, scrambled to their feet and fled into the night, their pride shattered.
Marcus watched them go before turning his attention to the girl. She had slumped against the wall, her face pale and gaunt. Slowly, he approached her, kneeling by her side.
"Are you alright?" he asked gently, his voice softening.
The girl looked up at him, her silver hair falling over her face. Her eyes, wide with shock and relief, met his. For a moment, she said nothing, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
"You... you saved me," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Marcus nodded, helping her to her feet. "Let's get you out of here."
As they left the alley, the girl leaned on him for support, her body weak from hunger and exhaustion. But in her heart, something had changed. The man who had appeared out of nowhere—he had saved her. She could trust him.