[Attack]

Claude darted through the streets, his eyes and ears absorbing every detail of the chaos around him.

The usual clamour of the city had morphed into a cacophony of fear and confusion. People surged through the narrow alleys, fleeing from the direction of the city entrance with wide, terrified eyes. 

Breathless, Claude finally neared the main entrance. In the distance, he could make out the large gates he had faced when first approaching the city.

However, these once formidable gates were still in disrepair. Like the rest of the outer areas of the city, they lacked the time and resources to rebuild it.

Near the gates, members of the newly formed city guard stood with their backs to him, facing whatever threat had descended upon the city.

Their uniforms, hastily assembled from mismatched pieces of armour and cloth, were stained with sweat and grime.

"What are you doing here? You need to get to safety!" Peter's familiar voice rang out, cutting through Claude's reverie.

Turning, Claude saw Peter grasping a spear in hand as he confronted a group of children who had been sneaking about nearby, their faces pale but determined.

The sight of them—too young to truly understand danger, yet old enough to feel the pull of bravery—struck a chord in Claude's heart.

If he acted like that, would Raymond still be here?

'Don't be so foolish,' Claude mused self-deprecatingly. 'If you did that, you wouldn't be breathing Claude. And then, who would avenge you, avenge Raymond? Your ghost? Or perchance the wind carrying the whispers of your eternal regret?'

"But we want to help! We want to fight!" one of the children stammered, eyes wide with hope and fear, his defiance slightly wavering under Peter's stern gaze.

Claude watched as Peter's face reddened with frustration. The sight of the naive children trying to prove their bravery seemed to infuriate him.

Peter's usually calm demeanour never cracked even when under pressure, yet his patience was wearing thin in the face of such innocence and recklessness.

"Impressive courage," Claude remarked as he approached, drawing the wide-eyed attention of the children. 

"Emissary?! Do you agree?" the defiant child looked up at Claude, hope and fear mingling in his eyes.

His small frame seemed to quiver in anticipation, and the others looked on, their expressions a mixture of admiration and trepidation.

"No, I do not," Claude quipped. The children's faces fell, disappointment etched into their features. "Bravery is not just about charging into battle. It's not a game. Your time to fight will come, but now is not it."

He crouched down to their level as he spoke. "Right now, your families need you safe. That is your duty today."

Claude's reputation, bolstered by his supposed association with the divine and his strength, lent his words a weight that Peter's hadn't.

Reluctantly, the children obeyed, casting wistful glances back as they retreated with small, hesitant steps.

"Thanks," Peter said, his smile wry. "Turns out children can be more difficult to handle than a bloody battle." His voice carried a mix of exasperation and relief, his shoulders sagging slightly.

"Ha! You better hope Ida doesn't turn out like that when she grows up, or you'll be tearing your hair out from stress," Claude jested, though his expression soon turned serious.

The weight of the situation was not lost on him, and he could see the same concern mirrored in Peter's eyes. "Do you know what's going on?"

"Sadly." Peter's face darkened. "It's the bloodborne."

He paused.

"The Bloodborne are attacking."

Claude's eyes widened.

Six years.

It had been six years he had spent in this world, and never had he encountered the infamous Bloodborne.

For a while, he had almost convinced himself that the world wasn't as dangerous as the stories had led him to believe.

But now, confronted with this reality, the memories of his struggles to conquer these ruins resurfaced. 

His battle against the ghosts.

Against the Metal Titans.

Each memory of his reminded him that he could not judge this world by the standards of his own.

'Then again… It's not like my world is ordinary either…'

Claude grimaced as he thought about how he was ripped away from his ordinary village life in his own world.

Yet, the pattering of footsteps soon arrested his attention as he cocked his head to the side.

"Karl? Agnes?" Claude asked, bewildered by who he was seeing.

"You didn't think we would miss out on this?" Karl, his face grim, now holding a spear similar to Peter's as he stood by them.

Due to his age, Karl had declined to get his hand on the newer weapons they had found and left them with the younger members of the guards.

Nevertheless, Claude still didn't understand why Peter clung to his spear and refused to use the rifles they had found.

'I guess that's just Peter being Peter...' He mused internally.

Agnes stood beside him, clutching at a handful of vials, similarly tense.

"Chief? Lady Agnes? There's no need for you to be here!" Peter exclaimed, frustrated by the presence of the pair.

As helpful as they would be, losing either of them would be a horrific loss for the village, as both acted as spiritual pillars for everyone there.

"Don't think about it, Peter... What's come has come. We can't exactly just chase them away now." Claude shook his head as his ears perked up at a distant sound.

Boom!

Hiss!

The ground beneath Claude's feet seemed to tremble with the thunderous sound. His heart skipped a beat as his eyes narrowed.

He knew that sound all too well.

How could he not?

It was the unmistakable roar of steam rifles, the very ones he had painstakingly repaired and tested.

The distinct hissing followed each explosion, a telltale sign of the steam mechanisms within the weapon at work.

With his mind rapidly spinning, he began to manipulate his mental energy, tethering not the water vapour but all the molecules in the air before him.

Gathering all his focus, he began to grasp two small discs of air. One large one and one small one.

He used his power to rapidly vibrate the air at the centre of the discs, increasing their temperature.

Once sufficient heat was directed to the centre of the discs, he aligned the discs before his right eye.

This was the second spell from Raymond's diary that Claude had mastered, known as the Air Telescope. 

Using principles similar but not exactly the same as the water spell, this auxiliary spell mainly functions to help look at distant objects.

Boom!

Hiss!

The relentless barrage continued.

With the help of his spell, Claude could see the city guards fire another volley; seeing this he understood the gravity of the situation.

Bullets for the rifles were a precious commodity, difficult to manufacture and irreplaceable in their current state. 

Most of the bullets currently being used were actually found in the ruins.

One bullet used meant one bullet fewer remaining.

The fact that they were being used so liberally could only mean one thing: the situation was dire.

As if on cue, the steamy aftermath of the guards' gunfire began to reveal shadowy figures emerging from the smoke.

The bloodborne.