System, please just shut up

The festival's energy didn't fade with nightfall—it intensified.

District Six was now a blur of glowing lanterns, shimmering banners, and a symphony of music that pulsed through the very stone beneath Kael's feet.

And people. So many people. The main avenues were rivers of bodies, a current of joyous humanity.

Performers juggled balls of pure mana or danced on spinning rune-discs, their movements impossibly fluid. Street chefs, with a flourish, flipped sizzling food into levitating trays, sending tantalizing aromas wafting through the air.

Children, their faces sticky with sweet treats, ran past with candy-coated mana crystals in their hands, their laughter like bright bells.

Kael, caught in the flow, pushed through a slow-moving cluster of delighted tourists, a warm, spiced meat skewer in one hand and a frothing drink in the other, trying desperately not to spill either.

The city was insane tonight. In a good way. And he was, for the first time in what felt like an eternity, having one of the best nights in a while, truly allowing himself to be swept up in the pervasive joy.

That was until someone slammed into him.

It wasn't hard—just a brush.

A body twisting past his shoulder with impossible fluidity, like a fish through water, gone before he could even register more than a blur of dark cloth.

"Whoa—hey!" Kael nearly dropped his drink, the warm liquid sloshing precariously.

He spun, his immediate instinct to steady himself, but the person was already gone—just a faint outline of a dark figure vanishing into the denser crowd ahead.

Kael frowned, a sudden prickle of unease unsettling his festive mood.

Something felt… light.

He instinctively patted his side.

His sword?

Gone. The familiar weight at his side was absent.

"What the—?"

Theo, who had been staring blankly at the sky, turned, his and murmured. "What's up? You look like you've seen one of those mana-ghost."

"My sword," Kael stated, the disbelief warring with a dawning fury in his voice. "Someone just took my sword."

Jarik, who had been casually leaning against a nearby lamp post, straightened abruptly. "Here? During the procession? Who's that bold...I need to befriend them."

But Kael didn't bother with them, he was already moving, surging forward without a second thought. "I'm getting it back."

He pushed harder, slipping between two glowing food carts with surprising agility, his focus razor-sharp.

He vaulted a low railing designed to keep pedestrians from straying into performers' spaces, landing silently.

The crowd was incredibly thick, a living, breathing barrier, but Kael kept his eyes locked on the faint, darting outline of a hooded figure ahead.

They moved with a peculiar, almost unnatural nimbleness, weaving through festival-goers like smoke. Their cloak was short, dark gray, with a distinctive cut just above the knees, and an odd shimmer along its edges, almost like it was woven from moonlight itself.

They moved fast—faster than any ordinary pickpocket—but not too fast, always keeping Kael within sight, as if leading him on.

Kael pushed harder, his training kicking in, his focus narrowing to the chase.

The pursuit twisted through narrow alleys strung with crisscrossing lines of lanterns, the light dappling on the stone.

It vaulted over the low roofs of food stalls, their awnings flapping as he leaped. It crossed a bridge carved from glowing crystal, its surface humming faintly underfoot.

Twice, Kael nearly lost them in a particularly dense cluster of revelers or a sudden turn into a shadowed passage.

Then, unexpectedly, they suddenly looked back.

It was a girl?

Kael blinked, a flicker of confusion.

Why am I getting robbed by a girl in the middle of a festival?

She looked back again—and grinned. The expression was clearly visible despite the shadow cast by her hood. A wide, playful, utterly unrepentant grin.

Is she laughing?

The worst part? She brazenly waved at him.

A small, mocking gesture, dismissing his efforts.

"Unbelievable," Kael muttered under his breath, a surge of pure irritation spurring him on.

He kicked off a stair railing, using the momentum to cut across a shortcut, skidding slightly on the slick stone to catch her fleeting trail.

Eventually, the endless, vibrant crowd thinned.

The boisterous noise of the city faded behind them as she ducked into a quieter section near the old industrial quarter, where the festival lights weren't as strong and most people had cleared out for the main procession.

It was an area of older, weathered buildings, less ornate, more functional.

Kael followed the fluttering of her dark cloak into an empty alleyway, lit only by a single cracked mana-lamp, flickering faintly, casting long, dancing shadows.

Kael followed the fluttering of her dark cloak into an empty alleyway, lit only by a single cracked mana-lamp, flickering faintly, casting long, dancing shadows.

The girl stood casually in the center of the alley, bathed in the dim, unsteady light, his practice sword now held loosely in one hand, its blunted tip resting on the ground.

She grinned as he approached, her hood still mostly drawn over her head, obscuring her features in shadow, but her amusement was palpable.

"Well, well," she said brightly, her voice light and melodic, yet laced with an undeniable edge of amusement. "You actually made it. Most knights are too busy looking important to notice something missing."

Kael slowed to a stop a few feet away, his breathing light, unhurried, despite the chase.

He wasn't winded.

"Give it back," he commanded, his voice firm, devoid of humor.

His hand instinctively went to where his sword should have been.

She tilted her head, clearly unbothered by his stern tone. "You sound upset."

"Of course I am," Kael retorted, his irritation rising. "You just stole my sword and made me run for minutes through a festival crowd! That's not exactly a pleasant evening!"

"Borrowed. Temporarily," she corrected him smoothly, hefting the practice sword with surprising ease. "Still intact. See? I'm not a criminal, not really. More of a… disarmament artist."

"That's not a real thing."

"It is if you're creative enough." With a playful flourish, she tossed the practice sword over her shoulder. It clattered against a stack of discarded barrels just behind him, out of immediate reach. "There. Reclaimed. Eventually."

Kael's eyes switched between the out-of-reach sword and her. "So what, this was all a game? You couldn't find some friends willing to play with you?"

She shrugged, a fluid, graceful movement. "You looked bored. And a little too upright. Like you were guarding the air instead of enjoying the festivities."

"No I wasn't," Kael scoffed, a defensive flush rising to his cheeks. "I was having a good time with my friends."

"Yeah, right," she replied, her tone dripping with amused skepticism. "You carry yourself like someone who hasn't laughed in a while." she added with a wink, "a knight without his sword looks rather… vulnerable."

She smiled again, a mischievous light in her eyes. "I'm helping you loosen up, Swordless Knight boy."

Kael narrowed his eyes, stepping forward, his empty hands clenching into fists. "Well, I don't care why you did it," he stated, his voice edged with growing annoyance. "You took my property. That's a violation. And you have to face the consequences."

But instead of the fear or defensiveness he would expect from a normal person caught in such an act, she instead suddenly burst out laughing.

A bright, uninhibited peal of laughter that echoed through the quiet alley, utterly devoid of malice, yet utterly infuriating.

She laughed so long and so hard that Kael began twitching from sheer irritation, his fists tightening.

After what felt like an eternity of his growing exasperation, she finally stabilized herself, wiping a fake tear from the corner of her eye with a graceful finger. "I'm sorry," she gasped, still chuckling. "I truly didn't mean to laugh, it's just… you looked very serious when you said that just now. So earnest."