The Wandering Witch VOL. 1 - The Prelude Arc (COMPLETED)

7.2| The Thief's Misfortune

This was the worst kind of scene that the thief had imagined to happen. Noct had not considered or even thought that Worick, of all the people in the kingdom, would be the one to arrive at the worst possible moment—wounded, weak, and teetering at the brink of unconsciousness.

Noct grit his teeth, tasting the blood in his mouth. His vision blurred for a moment. His breathing was heavy and uneven. He raised his good hand shakily, lightly pressing his palm over his gushing wound in order to control the blood flow. Amid the semidarkness, he stared at the hunter in silence. Noct didn't dare to make any sudden movements. Worick also continued to look at him. A clear glint of malice was in his eyes.

The thief glanced over at Quann by the hunter's feet. By some miracle, the fatally wounded dagger meister was still somehow alive, the evidence brought upon by the subtle rise and fall of his chest. At the back of his mind, Noct couldn't help but wonder if Worick had left him alive on purpose or if maybe he had just made a mistake. After all, Worick was most known for being a merciless, vile, and cold-blooded hunter.

Noct's vision clouded once again, and he blinked. A few ways in front of him, Worick took a step forward. The shadowed parts of his body were immediately illuminated, and his axe shone in a sharp arc as it caught the sun rays. The first thing that Noct noticed were the bloody cuts and wounds Worick had gotten from his exchange with the dead knight. It seemed worse now that he was close enough to look at them. One wound was pooling red, dripping down his arm and staining his blade. He looked down at the thief with a wicked expression and eyes that gleamed with madness.

A jolt of fear went over him. Noct's mind immediately signaled a warning. I need to get away.

But it was impossible. In his current state, Noct was certain that escape was not attainable, not when he couldn't even manage to move himself without flinching in the pain. That meant he would have to make the only choice left. E ace the hunter head-on. But that was also impossible. He hardly had enough energy left to spare after the fall. Noct knew this fact very clearly as the hunter started to walk towards him, a demon grin creeping up his face. It was obvious in Worick's expression that he also knew that Noct did not stand a chance. The thief clenched his fist. A single thought repeated in his mind.

I am not going to die here.

Worick was merely five feet away from him now. The clanking of his armor echoed dully against the alley wall. Noct hated being helpless, but he knew he couldn't do anything. Not yet, at least. He closed his eyes and readied himself for what he was about to attempt, conserving every last bit of strength he could find. He was not planning to give up. All he needed was a chance, an opening. Very quietly, he slipped three of his remaining daggers from his sleeve.

A wide grin spread all over Worick's face, threatening to split his face apart as he bore down on him. The hunter stopped in front of him. Noct stayed completely still, eyes now open. The silence that surrounded them was deafening.

"Well, well," The hunter finally spoke, voice rasped and low. "Look at what we have here—"

He cut off, quickly raising his axe to stop a flying dagger that Noct had suddenly threw at his face. The blade made a shrill cry as the metals collided. The dagger was tossed into the dark corner, clattering loudly as it hit the ground. Worick growled, face darkening into anger. "You dare—"

Noct sharply cried out as he moved, ignoring the pain from his wound, the ringing in his ears, the blurring of his vision. His body felt like it was on fire, every joint, bone, and muscle groaning from the effort. He grit his teeth until they felt numb. He threw another dagger at Worick's face, moving behind his blind spot as the hunter deflected the weapon again with his axe. With the hunter's head turned from him, Noct slipped out another dagger from his sleeve. He raised both blades to strike at the chink in Worick's armor, aiming for his shoulder. Noct found himself slightly smile in triumph as the dagger came down in a quick metal blur. Hope filled inside of him. If he could land a strike that could wound Worick fatally, there was a chance he could win. However, that hope disappeared into void the moment later.