The Path to New Babylon

[Demetri Malius]

At the flash of the Uchiha's weapon, Demetri felt a sense of doom come over him, his face flashing with fear as he stumbled back, allowing the kid to give him a series of punches and a kick that sent him tumbling into the sand. With just a glimpse of the weapon, the rogue knew that it could tear him with one strike, and that not even his chains could defend him. Hell, it could probably even maim headmaster Nealaphh.

The thief's mind rambled with thoughts as he coughed and spit out sand. His mind didn't register his injuries until after he stood up, hearing a gravelly voice beside him. Demetri was losing his focus, the thief was at the end of his rope, the fatigue from battle and his injuries were wearing him down quickly. As the voices around him rolled aorund in his head, his mind dizzy and drunk from pain and adrenaline, he felt another push from an attack, which sent him next to a shadows alley. Perhaps he could use this chance to escape. Like a drunken mercenary heading home from the tavern, Demetri limped and stumbled through the alley, hoping to find his escape.

But it seemed that it was not meant to be.

The voice of the mage shattered his thoughts, calling out to him for his knees to strike the sand. Stand down? How was he supposed to accomplish that task if he could hardly even stand up? The injured thief turned to face the mage, who seemed to hover off the floor as he charged his purple bow.

Was it finally over, his battle against the royal guild for the ottsel's petty revenge. Perhaps. But he couldn't bring himself to cave to the man.

Though his eyes could not track the shot, Demetri could feel its physical presence as it flew through the air. With a last act of defiance, he shot his chains forward, watching as they collided in the air. The sheer force of the arrow shattered the metal, the piercing cracks as it sizzle from its energy and shredded through each inch of it. There was nothing he could do to stop it.

The thief held his arms in front of him as the arrows hit his forearms piercing even through his chain mechanism destroying the gears inside, rendering it useless. The singular projectile continued its assault, tearing into his opposite arm as well, before finally glowing bright in front of his face an sizzling to nonexistence.

The thief fell back, too worn to support his own weight any longer, unable to create his chains or summon his trust defensive dagger. He gave a slight grin, seemingly satisfied with his defeat.

He didn't do too bad for defending against such odds. In fact, he felt as if, in his own way, he won. As he lay there with the hot sun glaring down on him, the locals slowly approaching his body for a closer look at the man who assaulted their king's guards, he felt a shadow slowly approach him.

"So, what are the charges?," the thief chuckled.

He accepted whatever fate they had in store for him, whatever it may be.