That night, Bakasa turned into a hunting ground.
Magic alarms across the High District screamed loudly. Searchlight beams from guard towers swept the streets like giant eyes searching for prey.
Dayat and Dola ran through the labyrinth of the border night market. Dayat was panting heavily. His expensive suit was torn at the shoulder, and his shoe had lost one heel.
"They... are too many..." Dayat gasped, hiding behind a pile of wine barrels.
"Tactical Analysis: The pursuit is carried out by two separate units," Dola reported quickly. "Unit A is tracking our physical trail. Unit B (led by Valmir) is using magic tracking. We cannot run together. Our running pattern is too easily predicted."
"So?"
"We must separate. I will be the decoy."
"No! No decoys! We stick together!" Dayat refused fiercely.
