"Bang!"
The sharp crack of a gunshot shattered the tranquil air along Park Street, freezing passersby in their tracks. For an instant, minds raced back to tales of duels, those noble, violent tests of honor that once echoed through time. They remembered stories of Western cowboys squaring off at high noon, Ionian nobles locked in personal vendettas, even Felipe the Bullfighter in his bloody contests of skill and pride.
In those days, it was a contest bound by ritual. Two opponents would face each other, standing rigidly on opposite ends of an open field, gazes locked, the polished barrels of their pistols resting at their sides. One shot only. The ancient rules dictated that. And when the smoke cleared, one man would still be standing while the other lay defeated, his dignity salvaged, if not his life. Medics and servants would rush to the fallen, determined to save all they could. The victor would raise his hands, acknowledging the admiration of his kin, his friends, his supporters. He was a gentleman, triumphant yet refined, basking in the cheers of the crowd.
But today's violence wasn't a ritual. Today, the street heard not just one shot, but a relentless barrage.
---
William stumbled forward, the impact knocking him so hard that he felt his front teeth collide with something unforgiving. A sharp pain shot through his mouth as he tasted blood, two of his teeth knocked loose and falling to the grimy ground below. Blood mingled with the alley's muck, leaving a grim stain on his shirt. Once clean, it now clung to his chest, filthy and reeking. Struggling to his feet, he took off in a desperate sprint toward the other end of the alley.
His only consolation in this mad dash was a single thought: his recent practice at the shooting range. He forced himself to remember the revolver's limitations. Six shots. He had heard six shots behind him, which meant; at least for now, the gunman was out of bullets. William pushed forward, praying he was right.
But he heard the ominous click of the gunman's revolver snapping open, the metallic clink of spent shells dropping to the ground, and the swift loading of fresh bullets. His pursuer was close, so close he could almost hear the man's heavy breathing, feel the menace radiating from him.
"Just a bit farther," William muttered under his breath. His eyes fixed on the alley's end, where the chaotic bustle of Park Street promised an escape route. Vendors hawked their wares, carts cluttered the asphalt, and the hum of daily life pulsed in stark contrast to the deadly pursuit in the alleyway. He burst into the street, a filthy, bloodied figure, stumbling and gasping. People stared, some stepping back in alarm, others frozen, their eyes wide.
"Help!" he cried, his voice breaking as he staggered forward. "Help me! Someone's trying to kill me!"
"Please…save me!" he choked out, desperation thick in his voice. His pleas echoed into the indifferent crowd.
But any who might have stepped forward were swiftly driven back by a fresh gunshot. The explosion of sound froze the street in place, stopping any possible help as if sealing his fate. William's cry for aid faded into a stunned silence. A few women looked on in horror, their faces pale with pity, but even they recoiled, clutching at their skirts, shielding themselves from his plight.
Tears pricked at the edges of William's eyes, blurring his vision. His mind raced, panic clawing at his resolve. 'If only I had known...I never would have become a wizard.'
Yet, as the footsteps of his pursuer grew louder, his will hardened. He could not die here. Not like this.
Then, a desperate plan flickered to life. The Dewamish River lay at the end of Park Street. The river, flowing from the mountains down to Puget Harbor, was notorious for its treacher
The scene ahead zoomed in with dizzying speed as William rushed forward. Suddenly, the railing was right there, looming just inches from his face. He crashed into it, his hands instinctively gripping the metal as he steadied himself. Summoning all his courage, he hoisted himself up, one foot braced on the ledge. But as he glanced down, his heart faltered.
Below him, the Dewamish River churned, its murky, foam-capped surface swirling around jagged rocks. A hunk of driftwood slammed into one of those rocks, shattering instantly. Through the rippling surface, he caught a glimpse of something dark, something massive; the faint outline of a saltwater crocodile gliding through the waves.
Cold fear prickled his skin. He'd been so certain that the man chasing him wouldn't dare leap into those treacherous waters. But now, faced with the filthy, dangerous river, William realized he didn't have that courage either. His grip on the railing loosened as doubt gnawed at him.
With a deep, shaky breath, he turned to face his pursuer, hoping against hope that the gunman's cold, relentless stare would push him to make the jump. But just as he was about to look away, something unexpected happened.
A sleek Ford car screeched to a halt on the street just behind him, blocking his view of the gunman. The window rolled down, and a young man with a composed, almost aristocratic expression leaned out. "Get in!" he shouted, his voice steady yet urgent.
William froze, torn between the impulse to run and the need for answers. "Who are you?" he demanded, eyeing the stranger warily.
"A member of the World Mystical Affairs Management Association," the young man replied, flashing a small silver badge in a polished booklet. "Name's Liam Berg."
Just then, a hail of bullets struck the car, peppering it with dents and shattering the windows in a storm of glass. One of the bullets grazed Liam's ear, leaving a thin line of blood trickling down his neck. He didn't even flinch.
"Get in the car!" Liam urged again, his tone calm but insistent. "Unless you'd rather get us both killed!"
William didn't hesitate a moment longer. With the sound of the gunman's footsteps closing in and the memory of those sharp, snapping bullets, he yanked open the door and dove into the car. The instant he slammed the door shut, Liam floored the accelerator. The car lurched forward, crashing through a flimsy market stall before speeding down a side road, away from the gunman's line of fire.
The car shuddered under another wave of gunfire, bullets pinging off the metal in sharp bursts. William held his breath, his knuckles white as he gripped the seat, not exhaling until they cleared the street, leaving the gunman and the threat behind them.
Only then did William allow himself to slump back in the leather seat, feeling a rare sense of relief spread through him. For the first time in ages, he felt safe or at least safer than he had moments ago. But his mind was swirling with questions.
"Mr. Liam…where are we headed?" he asked, glancing at the young driver.
Liam threw him a reassuring smile, his focus still on the road. "Our branch office in Bridgewick. A bit out of the way, but we'll be safe there." He gestured at the window, where the urban scenery had begun to thin into quieter, less populated streets.
"You have branches?" William asked, genuinely surprised.
"Of course. We're a global network," Liam replied with a chuckle, grabbing a small towel from the passenger seat and handing it to William. "Here, clean yourself up a bit."
Only then did William realize just how filthy he was; dirt and blood smeared across his face, staining the car's interior. He took the towel sheepishly, wiping his face as he continued, "You said you're with the…'Mystical Affairs Management Association.' What exactly is that?"
Liam glanced at him with a knowing smile. "In simple terms? We're a force for justice."
"Justice?" William blinked, taken aback by the straightforward response.
Liam nodded, his smile fading into something more somber. "Yes, justice. You've seen it yourself, haven't you? Wizards turning on each other, hunting each other down just to climb some twisted hierarchy. In their world, weakness is a crime, kindness a joke. To them, other wizards are nothing more than livestock in a pen, something to use, to exploit, to destroy for their own gain."
William nodded eagerly, a spark of hope igniting in his chest. "That's exactly what I felt, too. After I awakened, it seemed like…everything changed."
Liam nodded in agreement. "Precisely. That's why a powerful and just organization like ours exists; to protect wizards' lives and freedoms from those who would misuse power."
William's eyes lit up, the idea swirling in his mind. "It's like…something out of an MC comic!" His voice brimmed with excitement. Superhero comics were still a novel concept, and he had spent countless afternoons with his nose buried in 'Time Comics Weekly', marveling at the heroic feats on every page.
Liam laughed warmly. "Yes, I suppose it is. We're here to keep balance, to ensure justice, much like those heroes you read about."
The excitement faded slightly as curiosity crept into William's mind. "But how did you know I was in trouble? You showed up just in time, it's almost like you sensed it."
Liam paused thoughtfully, then shrugged with a smile. "Well, this is normally classified information…but I suppose I can let you in on it. Our branch president is an extremely skilled wizard with unique abilities. He has a way of detecting when a wizard's life is in danger nearby, so he sent me to assist you."
William's eyes widened. "That's incredible!" His mind reeled at the thought. Such power was almost mythical to him, but Liam spoke of it as casually as if it were a common skill.
Liam smiled. "And if you choose, you might learn more about our abilities in the future…that is, if you'd consider joining us."
"Me?" William's heart skipped a beat. "You're inviting me to join?"
"You have a rare talent, William," Liam said, his voice warm with encouragement. "Awakening as a 5D wizard at your age is extraordinary. We're always looking for those with your kind of potential."
William didn't hesitate, his heart pounding with resolve. "Then I'm in. I want to protect people, to help those who can't help themselves!"
"Perfect." Liam's smile widened, his eyes bright with approval. "According to protocol, I'll need to register you formally. May I have your full name?"
"William Joe, sir!" he said proudly.
"Very well, William," Liam nodded, satisfied. "I'll take you to meet the branch president shortly. You'll need to sign a confidentiality agreement, and then we'll begin your orientation."
Liam continued, detailing the path ahead. "You'll go through a week of intensive training to understand our mission and responsibilities. Then, for the next six months, you'll be an intern, joining us on missions and learning how to navigate this world. After that, if all goes well, you'll be promoted to investigator; a true guardian of our cause."
A true guardian. The words resonated within William, filling him with a sense of purpose he had never felt before. The events of the last few days had changed him, layering his initial fear with a new sense of duty. He was ready.
"But that's all in due time," Liam said with a light chuckle, snapping William out of his reverie. He handed William a bottle of soda from the back seat. "Here, drink up. You must be parched."
William took the bottle, realizing just how dry his mouth felt. He hesitated for a split second, out of habit, then took a cautious sniff. It smelled like ordinary, sugary soda. With a slight flush of embarrassment, he took a long drink, savoring the sweetness.
Meanwhile, Liam took the opportunity to clean up, dabbing at the blood on his ear with a handkerchief, slicking back his hair, and even spritzing a bit of cologne. It was as if he were preparing for an official meeting. William smiled to himself, his nerves relaxing.
The landscape outside had transformed into a quieter scene, the city receding into fields and distant hills. His eyes grew heavy, and a deep fatigue settled over him. He'd been running for hours, his adrenaline finally waning now that he was safe.
"Mr. Liam," he murmured, fighting to keep his eyes open, "if I fall asleep…can you…wake me when we get there?"
Before he could finish his sentence, his eyelids fluttered shut. His body sank deeper into the leather seat, and his consciousness slipped away, pulling him down into a deep, dreamless sleep.