Emerging frim the weaponry, the weight of the Shield-Ring on her finger and the Cloaking Mask tucked into her belt felt both comforting and a stark reminder of her vulnerabilities. The vibrant energy of Veridian had waned with the setting sun. The streets, once bustling with merchants and mages, were now quieter, illuminated by the soft glow of strategically placed arcane lanterns and the occasional flickering torchlight.
Elara, lost in thought about the shopkeeper's words and the daunting prospect of the Blackberry Wilds, took a less direct route home, wanting a few more moments to absorb everything. She walked down a narrow, winding alleyway, a shortcut she often used, its shadowed corners usually feeling familiar and safe within the magically protected city.
Tonight, however, the air felt different. A subtle unease pricked at the back of her neck, a sensation she couldn't quite place. The usual ambient hum of Veridian's magic seemed muted here, almost stifled. Before she could fully analyze the feeling, a blur in the darkness lunged. A heavy, bone-jarring blow landed squarely on the back of her head. A white-hot flash ignited behind her eyes, and the world spun violently. Disorientation slammed into her, stealing her balance, and she stumbled, almost fainting on the spot.
Before she could even register the pain or fully regain her footing, the assault continued with chilling efficiency. Strong hands seized her, pinning her arms tightly to her sides. She felt a brutal fist connect with her stomach, stealing her breath in a sharp, agonizing gasp. Another slammed into her temple, sending excruciating pain radiating through her skull. She tried to channel her magic, to force mana through her veins, but the shock and the relentless assault made it impossible to focus, her thoughts scattering like dust motes.
Blow after blow rained down on her. Fists pounded into her ribs, her back, her shoulders. She heard the sickening crunch of bone as a particularly vicious kick landed squarely on her leg, a scream tearing from her throat, though it felt distant and muffled. The alley became a maelstrom of pain, each impact a fresh wave of agony that threatened to consume her.
Her nose exploded in a gush of warmth as a fist connected with her face, spraying blood across the dim cobblestones. The coppery taste filled her mouth, mingling with the bitter tang of fear. Her vision blurred further, red blooming behind her eyelids. She tasted more blood, hot and metallic, as another punch split her lip. Her body screamed in protest, every muscle seizing, every nerve alight with unbearable suffering. She felt teeth clench, then give way, a sharp shard of pain from her jaw.
They were relentless, their silence more terrifying than any shouted threat. There was no emotion in their attacks, only brutal, calculated efficiency. This wasn't a robbery; this was something far more sinister.
The world began to recede, fading into a haze of white noise and throbbing pain. Her limbs felt like lead, her consciousness flickering like a dying candle. Just before the darkness claimed her entirely, a final, heavy blow to her temple sent her spiraling into unconsciousness, her body a broken, bleeding heap.