Valcroy yanked the arrow from his back with a grunt, tossing it aside as he sprinted after Erik. The sharp pain from the wound didn't slow him down, though it clearly hurt. "This one hurts," he muttered, his breath steady despite the exertion. Erik, a few paces ahead, moved silently, his own wounds healing at a gradual pace. Blood from shallow cuts dotted his clothes, but the regeneration was already knitting his skin back together.
Behind them, the angry shouts of the Alliance soldiers echoed through the ruined streets of Iron'Heits. Arrows zipped past them, some clattering against the debris, while others hit their marks but were quickly shrugged off. At the head of the furious pursuers was Colonel Arden, his eyes burning with determination.
"Move! Don't let them escape!" Arden's voice boomed over the soldiers' cursing.
