The streets of New Mug City echoed with laughter, music, and the clinking of mugs. But Fen wasn't laughing.
His eyes scanned the crowd while the scent grew stronger—metallic, cold, and piercing through the warm air like a dagger. He stopped walking.
"Thory," he muttered, "someone's here. Watching us."
Before Thory could respond, Fen turned and slipped between two houses, following the scent. The alley was dim, narrow, and empty—except for the figure now standing still at the far end, cloaked and hooded.
Quietly, Fen approached. The moment the hooded figure turned slightly, he lunged forward, unslinging his axe and pointing it at the figure's back.
"Who are you?" he demanded, his voice low and sharp.
The figure froze. For a second, no one moved.
Then came a soft thud—the sound of boots landing beside him. In one impossibly long step, Thory had appeared in front of the cloaked figure, arms crossed and unimpressed.
"Listen, Valkyrie," she said, eyes narrowing. "We can smell your kind from a mile away."
The hooded figure was no towering giant—no steel-plated monster like the one from Littleroot. She was the same height as Thory and Fen, her breath quick and uncertain.
There was a beat of silence.
Then—whoosh!—the Valkyrie shoved forward, catching them off guard. She ducked under Thory's arm, cape whipping behind her, and sprinted toward the next alley.
"Ha! Oh, come on!" Thory shouted, already running after her. "Wait! Don't run!"
Fen growled and chased after them, gripping his axe tighter. They raced through alleys and winding paths behind the festival, the music growing fainter as they chased the shadow into the heart of the city.
Absolutely! Here is the revised Chapter 11 – Shadows in the Daylight with your latest direction:
The sun still hung high over New Mug City, casting warmth on the streets filled with music, cheers, and the savory scent of roasted meat. The Festival of Feast and Thunder thundered on—but Fen was no longer part of the celebration.
He chased the first hooded Valkyrie through winding alleys, his axe firm in hand, eyes narrowed with focus.
Just as he turned a corner—
A blur to his right.
The second Valkyrie struck from the shadows.
Fen twisted just in time, the enemy's blade nearly piercing through his neck. Instead, the edge scraped a deep cut along the side of his neck—sharp, hot pain erupted as he staggered back, clutching it with one hand.
Blood slid between his fingers.
"Thory—keep going!" he shouted, breath ragged, but eyes locked on the cloaked attacker.
Thory, already on the rooftops above, paused. She looked down, concern flashing in her face.
Fen met her gaze with a nod, defiant despite the blood. "I got this!"
Thory hesitated only a second before nodding back. "It won't be long!" she shouted, then launched forward, leaping rooftop to rooftop after the first Valkyrie.
She was fast—almost too fast—but Thory wasn't about to let her escape.
Thory narrowed her eyes, boots pounding across the tiled rooftops as the hooded Valkyrie darted ahead. With a burst of speed, she lunged—arm outstretched.
She grabbed the back of the cloak.
For a heartbeat, she felt resistance—fingers clutching fabric—
Then, in a shimmer of light and a soft puff, the figure dissolved into green sparkling specs, dancing briefly in the air before vanishing like fireflies in the sun.
All that remained was the empty cloak, fluttering in her hand, weightless and hollow.
"Duplicate illusion magic…" Thory muttered, her brow furrowing. "They never planned to fight. Just stall us."
She stared at the cloak, clenched her jaw, and spun on her heel.
"Fen!" she barked aloud, eyes snapping back toward the alley.
She dropped the cloak, leapt off the rooftop, landed in a roll, and sprinted through the winding streets.
Something was wrong. She could feel it.