Chương 24: Chapter Twenty Three: Catch!

Cyrus stumbled onto the ground, landing straight on his bottom. The vessels in his hands rattled violently, but having supported them using his arms, luckily did not shatter. He glanced up, an apology instinctively forming within his throat, but the words shriveled away on his tongue. Standing before him, glaring down, was a young girl about his age—or perhaps a few years older. She wore a simple chiton, worn down at the hems and edges.

Her light auburn hair lay loose and wavy around her shoulders, and her most prominent feature—a pair of dark eyes narrowed like a cat—were filled with annoyance.

"Are you blind, or just simple?" she snapped, staring down at him with obvious disdain. At the bitter retort, Cyrus felt his face heat.

"How about you watch where you're going?" The girl's eyes flashed." You watch where you're going, idiot!" She placed her hands on her hips, leaning down to glower at him more.

"You were the one going so fast, not me."

"Whatever…" Cyrus muttered. He stood up, attempting to brush the soil from the rough boar hide, though the mud stubbornly clung to the thick pelt.

"I'm in a rush."

"A rush, huh?" The girl squinted, studying his features for a moment.

"My, how dirty and unkempt you are." Then she let out a huff of dismissal.

"I'm guessing you're an errand boy? But I've never seen a wild creature like you around here before. What wretched man sent you out looking like that?"

"Philon," Cyrus answered coldly. The girl blinked. Then she snickered, rosy red dusting her cheeks with amusement.

"Philon?" she echoed, shaking her head. Her lips were touched with a disbelieving smirk.

"By the gods... my father has been pushed so low that he is resorting to hiring runts like you?" Cyrus stared at her, surprised and caught off guard.

"Philon is your father?"

"Unfortunately," the girl said, huffing once more.

"Though that's hardly the point. Why would he ever seriously hire someone like you?" Cyrus sighed.

"He just needed someone to do labor," he said, shrugging curtly.

"I plan to make it temporary anyway."

"Temporary or not, to think my father is wasting money on the likes of you…" She looked Cyrus up and down once more, her lips twitching upwards wryly.

"Well, if you're working for him, you'd better move fast. My father is not a very patient man." Cyrus narrowed his eyes.

"I plan to." She scoffed.

"Is that so? Well, we'll see how fast you can come back. I'm Eleni, by the way."

"Cyrus," he replied flatly. Eleni nodded down to the basket she was holding to her hip, filled to the brim with grain.

"Then, if you're quite done blocking the street, Cyrus, I have many things to do. Goodbye." With that, Eleni pushed past him, disappearing seamlessly into the bustling crowd within seconds. Cyrus stared after her, until he was certain she was gone. Then his lips curved into a thoughtful frown.

"Did you notice that as well, Aithon?" he asked, keeping his voice a whisper.

"I shouldn't have collided with her."

"I did," Aithon's voice buzzed to life inside Cyrus's mind, his tone taking on a tinge of perplexity.

"Her presence was remarkably muted. Quite strange for a mortal girl with no cultivation, at least not to an extent that I can sense." Turning back to the fountain, Cyrus couldn't help but frown.

"Are you sure? Because that was far from normal."

"Quite sure," Aithon confirmed.

"Her movements lack the grace and refinement that cultivators contain. Yet…" The spirit's voice was hinted with confusion.

"To have a presence that subdued, there is clearly something supernatural happening." Cyrus raised a brow.

"What should we do?"

"Keep an eye on her. That's it. As of now, she is of no importance to us." Cyrus nodded, slightly relieved that he hadn't been hit with another distraction from saving his family. With that out of the way, he quickly resumed the way to the fountain, weaving effortlessly between the piles and walls of bodies. And this time, he didn't collide with anyone else. ❦ ❦ ❦ Sliding back into the stifling bakery, Cyrus was met with the unfortunate sight of Philon's stocky body still slumped over the troughs of dough.

Sniffing the air, he winced at the stench of sweat. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. The old baker glanced up at the sound of the door, a frown curving his lips.

"Back already?" he asked, grunting.

"What? Did you break the jars or something? You better not have—" Cyrus chuckled.

"I got the water, don't worry." Philon blinked.

"You… got the water? Already?" Cyrus shrugged.

"Look for yourself." Stepping up, he set down the two jars upon the slim walls of the trough. Phil gave him a suspicious glance, before peering over into the vases. His eyes widened.

"By the gods!" The cry he gave was full of shock.

"How did you get it so fast?" Shaking his thick mane, his beefy belly rumbled with a deep laugh."Well, look at that! You actually have some speed in you!" Reaching over, Philon clapped a hand over Cyrus's shoulder.

"My, I expected you to collapse and succumb to exhaustion, as thin as you like, but it looks like you show some promise!" His scruffy beard was split by a begrudging smile.

"Seems like you were a good investment!" Cyrus smiled.

"It wasn't much—" That was when the bakery's door flew open. Philon removed his hand from Cyrus's shoulder, glancing over. And who would step through, but the very same girl Cyrus had slammed into. Eleni's face was sweaty, hair sticking to her reddened cheeks, damp from labor. In her hands were several bags, clutched tightly, most likely containing grain and other provisions. Cyrus glanced at Philon, spotting the old baker's eyes brighten.

"My daughter!" He waved her over.

"Come, look at who I hired!" Eleni grumbled tiredly, before walking over with an uninterested expression.

"Who, father?"

"This one!" Philon grinned, planting his palm on Cyrus's head and giving his hair a good rub.

"And guess what? The boy is fast!" Eleni seemed quite skeptical as she sighed.

"Is that so?" she murmured dryly.

"It seems we finally have ourselves a proper worker, Father."

"Indeed!" Philon laughed. Then he turned back to his mountain of dough, waving his hand in a dismissive manner.

"Well, I have many things to do. Artos and maza to bake, and dough to be made. I don't have time to hold his hand and order him around all day. So Eleni, simply consider this runt your personal assistant." Eleni groaned.

"A luxury I'm sure I didn't ask for."

"Quiet you," Philon barked, albeit good-naturally, shoving another mass of dough across the board.

"He moves fast, so put him to work. Go on, both of you." Eleni let out a long-suffering sigh. Then, throwing her hands up in defeat, turned around and began marching deeper into the bakery, grumbling under her breath. Slightly amused at the show, Cyrus followed right behind her, not uttering a word. Arriving into another room—dusted with flour, of course—Eleni didn't waste any time. She began snapping in a terse tone over her shoulder.

"You better listen well because if you make me explain twice…"

"What?" Eleni scowled.

"Just know it won't end well." Walking over to a shelf, she grabbed a small, but wide, wicker basket. Throwing it at Cyrus, who proceeded to catch it deftly, she gave him a shriveling stare.

"Get working. We need to fill this kaneon up with loaves, then we're heading straight to the agora to set up our stall. So move it!" Cyrus obeyed quickly, though not without giving her a raise of a brow at the harsh orders. Effortlessly, he began stacking bread after bread onto the basket, unrivaled at speed and efficiency.

Though Eleni stared at him at the start for a while, clearly expecting him to slip up and lose a grip on a loaf of bread, when no such accidents occurred, she gave a huff and began working as well. Grabbing another basket, she began loading this one with an assortment of sweets and figs. And soon, both of their kaneons were filled to the brim. Cyrus hoisted his up effortlessly, Eleni slightly struggled with hers, and both of them began a quick march towards the front of the shop. That was, until Eleni gave a pause.

Suddenly, she whirled and turned right back to the storage room. Cyrus followed her, confused, watching as she set down her basket and proceeded to walk towards a shelf filled with heavy bags of grain. Then, in a blur of abrupt speed, Eleni clenched the fabric of a thick sack of grain, arm muscles straining as she lifted it to her chest. Then, whirling around, she tossed the massive sack right at Cyrus.

"Catch!" she yelled. Cyrus was caught completely off guard. But even still, his instincts—primed by the time in the wilderness—saved him. Without much thought, he grabbed the sack out of the air with a single hand, and hoisted it effortlessly. He scowled.

"What was that?" he demanded. Eleni sighed, picking back up her basket.

"I was merely testing you. My father is far too soft-hearted, despite his gruff nature. So it lies on me to sort through what must be let go." She cocked her head, her eyes narrowing.

"And it seems you passed. Contrary to your appearance, you're quite strong, aren't you?" Cyrus chuckled, though he could hear his nervousness seep into his voice.

"That's what a lifetime of hard work gets you." Eleni scoffed.

"Right…" Her eyes lingered on him, sweeping from his legs, to his chest, to his arms, clearly trying to figure out where in his scruffy appearance was the muscle necessary for such an act of strength.

"Well, it's good to know that you can handle a sack like that. Now, set that down and come. We must be fast." Once their bread was secured inside a small handcart, Cyrus and Eleni shouldered past the bakery doors and plunged into the teeming streets of the grand city, navigating to the agora. Suddenly, a buzz echoed within Cyrus's mind.

"My child," Aithon's voice murmured. Cyrus kept driving the cart forward.

"What is it, Aithon?" he whispered underneath his breath.

"You must exercise greater caution," the spirit warned gently.

"Your instincts are sharp, but you revealed too much just now. If those who you wish to harm—or even ordinary men with greedy eyes—take notice of your abnormal strength, it will spell doom for you. Keep your power concealed." Cyrus nodded.

"I'll—" Aithon interrupted, his tone taking a much drier and edged stance.

"And as for that baker's daughter... keep your guard up around her, too. Especially her, in fact. I know her type. She is far too perceptive for her own good. If you continue being so careless with your displays of strength, she will figure you out eventually." Cyrus gulped, giving the smallest of nods to portray his understanding. He kept his expression neutral as Eleni glanced over her shoulder, calling back at him to hurry up.