Gunmage-Chapter 288: I fear no woman

"Do you mean the people who’ve been following us?"

"Who else would she mean?"

Mirelle rolled her eyes.

Then, as if by unspoken agreement, both girls hooked their arms around Lugh’s own.

...

Back on the streets, the four men who had been tailing the three suspiciously well-dressed youths suddenly saw them lock arms—and without warning—swerve into a narrow, dimly lit alley.

They paused.

Two of the men exchanged looks.

"So... should we wait, or—"

"Wait for what?"

Their leader cut in flatly.

He had a faint scar running down the length of his chin, the kind that suggested long practice in reckless decision-making. He took one step forward, gaze fixed on the alley’s mouth.

"Let’s move."

No more discussion. All four men slipped forward, stepping into the darkness with the confidence of people who’d done this a hundred times before.

Moonlight poured in from overhead, casting faint silhouettes of the three thrill-chasers they had been following. The forms were still, unmoving. They were... waiting?

That couldn’t be right.

...

Lugh leaned against the wall casually, watching the four men enter like wolves sniffing a trap.

The two groups stared at one another in silence.

Sela stepped forward.

"What do you want?"

The men didn’t answer. Instead, they turned toward each other and began whispering low.

Lugh couldn’t hear what they were saying—but Mirelle and Sela could. They had basic proficiency in sound magic, enough to pick out words from a fair distance.

"Yo... were they waiting for us?"

"Today’s our lucky day. Two beauties and a whole load of cash."

"Are you an idiot?"

"What?"

"What?"

The others looked confused at the sudden shift in tone. The scarred man—clearly their leader—groaned audibly. His face twisted in irritation.

"For them to be waiting for us means they know we’ve been tailing them. Don’t you get what that means?"

"Uh... no?"

He resisted the urge to facepalm, barely.

"It means they know we’ve been following them, and not only did they not run, they walked into a cramped, dark alley where no one can see what happens."

The silence that followed was filled with dawning dread.

"...and?"

"Do you think everyone’s as stupid as you!?"

That last part slipped out too loud. His voice echoed against the alley walls, loud enough that Lugh raised a brow. The leader clicked his tongue, dragging a hand down his face.

Then he pointed toward the largest man in their group.

"You. Go teach them never to mess with us again."

"Only me?"

"What, it’s just two girls and a kid. You can’t handle that?"

"Of course I can."

The man grinned, wide and toothy, and began to step forward.

The boss took a strategic step back. A few of the sharper men in the group did the same. All of them had shifted to observation mode.

Seeing the hulking figure approach, Sela cracked her knuckles and stretched her arms high above her head.

"I have to work off the food I just ate. I’ll take this one,"

She muttered as she stepped forward.

Lugh didn’t stop her. He had no intention of doing so.

From what he’d observed so far, mana itself had a reinforcing effect on the physical body. It was a conclusion drawn from personal experience.

Considering that the current opponent wasn’t a mage, this would be a good chance to see just how wide the gap had become.

The man stood at least two heads taller than Sela. His arms were thick, shoulders broad. A mass of muscle and brute confidence.

In contrast, Sela’s form was lean, graceful, and deceptively relaxed.

He flinched first.

Despite every instinct telling him otherwise, the man pushed down the chill crawling up his spine. He surged forward.

’I fear no woman’

He thought as he delivered a quick jab.

Sela didn’t even blink. Her body slipped past the blow, feet sliding across the ground with surgical precision.

Her fist snapped forward like a piston. A heavy crack echoed as it collided with his head.

He staggered back, stunned.

But she didn’t give him a moment.

With a sharp jerk, she gripped his shirt and yanked him back into range. Her forehead met his face in a brutal headbutt. The sickening sound of bone-on-bone contact rang through the alley.

Lugh didn’t get a good look at the damage—Sela was already moving. Her leg came up and stomped down viciously on the man’s knee.

He dropped, catching himself with his palms. She raised her arm.

Then brought her fist down like a hammer.

There was a thud, then silence. He didn’t get back up.

Mirelle whistled softly.

The remaining men could only stare.

A few long seconds passed before one of them began to walk forward slowly. He cleared his throat, speaking in a rehearsed, diplomatic tone.

"It seems... there’s been a slight misunderstanding. We apologize for any inconvenience we might have caused. We’ll just take our guy and be going now."

Sela’s eyes narrowed. Her voice was steely.

"No."

The man froze mid-step.

He raised both palms.

"Understandable. Have a nice day."

He turned to leave.

"No,"

She said again, louder this time.

"None of you are leaving."

For a moment, there was silence.

Then motion.

The man bolted. The others were a beat too slow, but they too began to flee.

"Catch them."

Sela didn’t shout, but her voice carried through.

Without hesitation, she took off after them. Mirelle and Lugh exchanged a brief look.

Then they ran too.

...

"Outta my way!"

One of the men yelled as he barreled through a food stall.

Hot broth splashed across his arms, and the sizzling pain made him flinch.

People yelled. Plates clattered.

The vendor’s curses followed him down the street.

He didn’t care. All he could do was run.

But then he looked back—and saw nothing.

No pursuer.

He faced forward again—just in time to meet a fist.

Everything went dark.

...

Lugh, meanwhile, had taken to the rooftops.

With fluid precision, he leapt over signs, vaulted off pipes, and skirted crumbling ledges.

His goal wasn’t to show off—it was to maintain line of sight with Sela and Mirelle without being bogged down in crowded alleys.

He didn’t want to get separated for long. Which meant this had to end quickly.

Below, his target sprinted through the street, eyes wide with panic. He kept glancing around, unnerved that he couldn’t spot the "kid."

By the time he looked up, it was too late.

Lugh dove from above, slamming into him with the full weight of momentum and gravity.

The man crumpled under the blow.

Lugh stood slowly, brushing dust off his clothes.

Startled bystanders watched him in silence.

He looked around once, expression unreadable, then wordlessly grabbed the unconscious man by the collar and began dragging him along the ground.

...

It didn’t take long for the three of them to regroup. Each of them held one limp, knocked-out stalker like prizes from a grim fairground game.

Mirelle dusted her hands and exhaled.

"Now’s the time to interrogate these fools."

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