A library wasn't one of my usual hangout spots, as I
preferred the sharp smell of expensive scotch over the mouldy smell of old
books. Still, I was sufficiently familiar with the libraries to know that
dashing through the corridors at full speed, not caring about the noise I made,
was not a good thing.
It was the kind of thing that summoned a stony-faced
librarian, her fingers raised in warning.
Yet, as I took a sharp corner, grabbing a shelf to bleed my
momentum even as I pulled them down in a crash, blocking the path behind me, no
librarian came to block my path, ready to warn me about the disrespect I was
displaying.
Maybe they were intimidated by my expensive clothes — an
elegant, tailored suit that was shockingly near six figures, and an expensive,
handmade watch that was well into six figures — or the fact that my hair was
more white than black, showing my relatively advanced age, almost into my early
sixties.
Maybe my age was enough to earn some respect.
Or maybe, just a wild, wild guess, they were intimidated by
the three men, constantly firing their guns at the slightest opportunity. And
not always missing, as it could be attested by several bleeding wounds,
darkening my gray suit.
"Damn it," I murmured as I pressed my hand to my
shoulder to stem the blood from the worst of my wounds. Luckily, it was not the
artery, meaning I wasn't at risk of immediate collapse.
Though, even without the immediate risk from my wounds, I
didn't have much to live unless I could do something. I had no hope of ditching
the man that followed me. I was surprisingly athletic … for a man in his
sixties.
Avoiding a trio of contract killers was a young man's game.
The smart thing would have been to stop and surrender,
betting my hope on the slight possibility that they might show me mercy — more
mercy than they had shown to my bodyguards, at least.
Yet, I rejected that path with my whole being. I didn't
survive this long in my line of work by relying on the mercy and the trust of
others. I preferred to die than become a prisoner to whatever madman who
decided a public ambush was a good way to do business.
A probability with a dangerously high likelihood of being
realized as I went deeper and deeper into the library, rather than trying to
find a quick exit. My path risked bringing me to a dead end, and what would
follow would only justify that name, but it was still better than trying to
ditch three assassins in their prime in an open courtyard.
I was on the lookout for a suitable ambush spot even as I
ran, hoping to find a way to take them down. Unfortunately, the library lacked
a good spot. A lot of concealment, but nothing that would actually hold back a
bullet.
I might have tried to just wait at one end of a corridor for
a last stand if I had anything but a concealed 9mm pistol with me — another
mistake I had only done because no one dared to try assassinating me for a long
while. Unlike ordinary people, I knew very well just how little stopping power
that little gun had.
It was scary against ordinary people, but unless luck was on
my side and I managed to get three headshots in succession before they managed
to take me down, such a confrontation would only end one way.
Maybe if I was still young … but endurance wasn't the only
aspect that deteriorated with time.
I dashed forward, trying to ignore the existential dread of
mortal danger, trying to ignore that a wrong turn was all it would take for me
to end up trapped with three professional killers that were both better armed
and in a better condition than me.
Three men that I doubted that was in a good mood, as they
had lost two of their allies during the earlier ambush where they took down my
bodyguards, who barely managed to hold them back until I could crawl away.
I didn't blame them. They were skilled men, loyal enough to
put their life on the line. Missing the ambush was their fault … but also mine,
letting arrogance blind me to the risk. After ruling the city for a decade with
no challenge, I just assumed that the lessons I had given in my younger days
would stick.
Especially since I was a kind Patreon, one that allowed
others to operate under my territory, as long as they followed a few simple
rules. No hard drugs that would kill people, no human trafficking, and no
making too much noise that would increase crime statistics.
And in return, I offered them a city where they could work
without the risk of police breathing down their neck, and judges that were more
than willing to give lenient sentences to the ones that were unlucky enough to
get caught.
A beautiful little corner, enough for everyone to work
happily and focus on activities that brought real profit like smuggling,
without harming the people in our territory.
Unfortunately, the new, mysterious party seemed to disagree
on those same rules. I wondered whether they were linked to a few rogue groups
that seemed to focus on kidnapping people that we had dealt with a few months
ago.
Maybe, I thought as I continued to run, trying to focus on
the present as I tried to ignore my steps getting slower. No amount of
adrenaline was enough to compensate for the loss of blood, especially not at my
age. My head getting fuzzier.
A last stand, or one last desperate dash, I tried to decide,
cursing my reckless attitude making me forget the lessons I had learned in my
youth. No matter how strong a familia, there was always danger…
Even if the said Patreon held more power than the mayor
himself in the city. All it would take was an opponent crazy enough to use
public assassinations as a way to deal with the opposition, uncaring for all
the federal attention it would bring.
A reckless method, destined for failure … too bad I wouldn't
last enough to see it crumble.
As I dashed, I noticed a set of stairs to my left, going
down to the basement, and took them in a sharp turn. It was not a good idea,
but with my chances of a successful escape diminishing by each second, that was
my best hope.
Maybe I could find a nice spot to lay down, enough to keep
them back for a few minutes. Police couldn't be too far away, not with a
firefight happening in one of the best colleges of the city. Maybe they might
even more fast enough to arrive before I bled to death…
"Damn it," I murmured as I found myself in a long,
two-way corridor with no cover to hide. The stairs would have been a nice place
to set up an ambush. "Run boy run," I murmured in a desperate gasp as
I continued, hoping to find a room with only one door and no windows in the
corridor.
And hopefully, with some discarded furniture enough to block
bullets.
Luckily, the corridor wasn't a straight one, and I managed
to run without the bullets seeking my life, but the footsteps got closer and
closer. So, in the first windowless room, I immediately opened the door and
threw myself in.
Only to meet with an unexpected sight.
A young man, tall and bespectacled, standing in front of
some kind of glowing light, hypnotized by the sight. The glow itself was
beautiful and mysterious, white mixing with purple … and a bunch of other
colors that I never thought to be possible.
The boy was clearly just another student, and if his
bright-colored bag with a drawn cartoon character was any indicator, not a
particularly mature one by college standards.
A weird phenomenon, one that clearly captured the attention
of the student fully. Otherwise, he would have reached the gunfire, or at least
a bloodied man bursting inside.
He walked calmly, in a trance, clearly not controlling his
actions, his hand already disappeared into the light.
I couldn't help but tense. I was not exactly a believer — of
God, or of the supernatural — but I had never been one to actively reject
either. It was just one of the things in life, no more interesting than
exploring how a computer worked.
Yet, my lack of belief didn't stop me from dashing forward
without thinking. I had no idea what was going on, but it was better than three
gunmen behind me.
I had no idea what that glowing light was, or why the boy
was walking toward it. Maybe it was just a stupid glitch of light or a toy,
something I was just trying to give more weight to ignore my upcoming death, a
mirage from the blood loss. Maybe it was something as magical as it looked, but
just like the stories, it would burn the unworthy.
As I approached, I could feel a whisper in my mind,
convincing me to stay away, a sense of disgust, one that turned into fear. I
pushed forward, easily ignoring the thoughts and sensations, the kind that
never stopped me before.
I covered most of the distance, and that mental impression
was replaced by a sensation of unworthiness, whispering that it was not an
opportunity I deserved.
I ignored the moral implications even easier. I tried to
live a good life and not harm other people unless it was completely necessary,
and I did my best to help others, but I was never under any misconception about
my true personality.
Above anything, I was a selfish survivor. One didn't climb
to the top in any business — and certainly not in the criminal world — being
altruistic.
It helped me to recognize that those thoughts were also a
mirage. All my life, I had never thought of anything as being worthy or
unworthy, believing justice to be nothing more than an illusion. The closest
thing the world had was the mercy of the strong, wrapped in the veneer of
idealized justice…
Even if I was mistaken about that, I was much more willing
to take that risk and discuss that with whatever god or devil was responsible
for the magic I saw in front of me, rather than turning back to surrender
myself to an inevitable death.
As I heard the door opening behind me, I threw myself
forward once more, the explosion of a gun loud behind me. I felt a bullet being
buried in my neck.
I ignored the pain as I grabbed the shoulder of the student
and pulled him back, throwing him to the side recklessly, even as I used that
as leverage to push myself deeper into the portal, ignoring several other
points of pain blossoming on my body.
… and light invaded my vision, blinding me along with pain.
Then, a line of text appeared in my vision.
"Class Acquired: Marked Envoy"