New Quest: Shadows of Betrayal
Objective 1:
Protect Billy: Find Billy before the enemies capture or harm him. Time is critical.
Objective 2:
Escape or Defeat the Enemy: You are surrounded. Either fight your way out or find a way to escape without being caught.
Objective 3:
Make a Deal: The enemy is offering a partnership. Agree to their terms to save yourself or face the consequences.
Reward:
Unknown, but failure could lead to devastating consequences.
Elliot's pulse raced as the words flashed in his vision. The glowing screen floated before him, taunting him with impossible choices. His eyes darted toward the veiled figures surrounding them, and he could feel the pressure mounting, squeezing the air from his lungs. Jorin stood firm beside him, eyes scanning the encroaching shadows, muscles tense, ready for a fight.
Elliot could feel Jorin's glance on him, the older man sensing something had shifted, but now wasn't the time for questions. The figures slowly began to emerge from the darkness, their faces masked, the gleam of weapons reflecting under the dim streetlights. There were more of them than Elliot had expected—far more. It wasn't just two or three people—they were surrounded by a small army of shadowy figures.
One of them, the one who had been speaking earlier, stepped forward, arms crossed, looking as if they had all the time in the world.
"You're running out of options, kid," the figure said, voice calm but menacing. "Why make this harder than it needs to be? We want a deal. You can still come out of this alive."
Elliot clenched his fists, his heart slamming in his chest. The offer dangled before him like a poisoned apple. His mind raced back to the merchant's earlier proposition, the one he had refused without hesitation. Now, with the enemy closing in, Elliot wondered if he'd made the right decision. His gaze flickered toward Jorin, who hadn't moved.
Jorin, however, wasn't interested in talking.
Without warning, Jorin lunged forward, his blade flashing in the dim light as he sliced through the air. The closest figure tried to block, but Jorin was faster, disarming them in one fluid motion and kicking them to the ground. Chaos erupted in an instant. The other enemies surged toward them, weapons drawn.
"Stay behind me!" Jorin shouted, fending off another attacker with a powerful strike, sending them reeling back.
Elliot took a shaky step back, his body frozen. It was happening again—the same nightmare. The chaos, the clash of steel, the threat of death—it all came rushing back in a flood of painful memories. He could see the two assassins from his past, their faces hidden by masks, closing in on him. He was just a boy then, defenseless, and the mercenary who had sworn to protect him had fought to the death. Elliot could still hear the screams and feel the blood splatter across his face as the man was cut down in front of him.
His body trembled. The walls of his mind closed in, trapping him in the past. He was powerless, just like before. The weight of his failures pressed down on him, threatening to crush him entirely.
The sound of clashing steel faded, replaced by the haunting image of the mercenary's body falling lifeless to the ground. Elliot's breath quickened, panic gripping him by the throat.
His body trembled. The walls of his mind closed in, trapping him in the past. He was powerless, just like before. The weight of his failures pressed down on him, threatening to crush him entirely.
The sound of clashing steel faded, replaced by the haunting image of the mercenary's body falling lifeless to the ground. Elliot's breath quickened, panic gripping him by the throat.
In the midst of the chaos, Jorin fought with a fluidity that belied the urgency of the situation. Each movement was precise, calculated—he seemed to dance among the shadows. He sidestepped an attacker's lunge, deflecting the blade with a deft flick of his wrist before countering with a swift knee to the opponent's gut. The enemy staggered back, momentarily stunned.
"Is that all you've got? The young ones are disappointing nowadays." Jorin taunted, his voice steady as he shifted his weight, ready for the next attack.
"Just wait until we put you on a chair old man," the leader sneered, stepping forward with a menacing grin.
Jorin remained unfazed. He kept his focus sharp, blocking the leader's strike with the flat of his blade, the clang ringing out in the stillness. "You think threats will win this fight? You're mistaken."
As the skirmish continued, Jorin employed a mix of offensive and defensive tactics, redirecting strikes and using the enemy's momentum against them. He spun low, sweeping a leg beneath one attacker and sending them crashing to the ground. "You don't stand a chance against me kid."
The leader growled, frustration creeping into his tone. "Enough of this! let's see you hold us off forever!"
"Maybe not," Jorin replied, breathless yet resolute. "But I'll buy them all the time they need." With that, he pressed forward again, a whirlwind of determination and skill, driving the enemies back with each blow, creating the precious seconds Elliot needed to gather himself and escape with Billy.
A sharp voice snapped through the fog.
"Elliot! Snap out of it!" Jorin's voice cut through the darkness in Elliot's mind, yanking him back to the present.
Elliot blinked, the world around him coming back into focus. Jorin had dispatched another enemy, his breathing heavy but his stance unwavering. There were more enemies, though—too many for one man to fight off alone.
Jorin, standing between Elliot and the advancing figures, glanced back at him, his voice firm but laced with urgency. "You have to go. Run after Billy! Now, before it's too late."
"Don't just stand there! Go!" Jorin barked, fending off another strike with a swift parry. He deflected the enemy's attack with a forceful blow and knocked them aside.
Elliot blinked, trying to shake off the memory that clawed at him. The faces of the assassins from that night haunted him, shadows creeping into his mind. He remembered the mercenary who had shielded him, their lifeblood pooling beneath him, a sacrifice he could never forget.
"Run!" Jorin shouted his voice slicing through the fog of Elliot's memory.
Elliot finally snapped back to the present. He could see the desperation in Jorin's eyes, a plea mingled with determination. The shadows surrounding them grew thicker as more figures emerged, their numbers pressing down like an ominous storm.
With a deep breath, Elliot turned and sprinted into the darkness, the sound of clashing metal fading behind him. He could hear Jorin's grunts as he fought to hold off their attackers, creating a momentary barrier for Elliot to escape.
Elliot's heart raced as he weaved through the narrow alleyways, calling out for Billy. "Billy! Billy! Where are you?" Panic coursed through him, knowing time was slipping away.
Each step felt heavier, weighed down by the memories he was desperately trying to outrun. He forced himself to focus, pushing the dread deep down. Billy was depending on him, and he couldn't let his fears control him any longer.
He felt a surge of dread clawing at him. He had to find Billy. He pushed himself harder, weaving through the alleyways, desperation fueling his every step. The shadows seemed to twist and shift, mocking his fear as he called out again, "Billy!"
Suddenly, a faint cry echoed from outside the city walls, piercing the silence like a knife. Elliot's heart dropped as he sprinted towards the sound, skidding to a halt in front of a small, rusted gate. He grasped the handle and yanked it open, the hinges creaking in protest.
As he stepped through, the moonlight spilled across a small clearing just beyond the wall, revealing a group of five men gathered around a struggling figure. Elliot's blood ran cold when he recognized Billy, tossed like a ragdoll between them, their laughter cruel and mocking as they jostled him.
"Look at the little hero!" one of the men jeered, shoving Billy to the ground. "You thought you could escape us?"
Elliot felt a fire ignite in his chest, a surge of anger and frustration boiling over as he stepped closer, determination coursing through his veins. He couldn't let them hurt Billy. He had to act.
As they approached a small wooden bridge that spanned a shallow creek, Elliot grabbed a nearby stick, the rough bark digging into his palms as he gripped it tightly. With a primal scream, he charged forward, his vision narrowing to the nearest attacker.
"Get away from him!" he roared, swinging the stick with all his strength. It connected with a sickening thud against the man's head, knocking him out cold. The figure crumpled to the ground, surprise etched on his face as he fell, and the others froze, momentarily stunned.
"Hand over Billy!" Elliot demanded, his voice low and fierce, blood dripping from his palm.
"Or die!"