The marketplace’s cobbled streets erupted into a surge of pandemonium. The crowd, a collection of all manner of fucking insert-medieval-job-here, was suddenly a berserk mob, each member intent on turning me into mincemeat. I flexed my fists, allowing a grim smile to stretch across my face.

“Alrighty . . . let’s fucking go,” I muttered under my breath, and plunged headlong into the crowd.

First to bat was a fishmonger, hurling a whole goddamn tuna at me. With a swift twist of my body, I dodged, feeling the whoosh of the sea beast as it sailed past. A fucking travesty to waste good sushi meat like that. I ran by him, slugging him right in the chin as I did, and he cried out, collapsing in a heap as I blew on through.

More people piled into the fray, swinging at me. But they had to avoid each other—I didn’t have to avoid anyone. I kicked out, connecting with a teenage boy right in his chest, and he flew back, the net he’d been carrying tangling up the legs of some lanky fuck with a rusted metal club as he darted my way. He smashed face-first into the street, going still. I dodged around a potential stab wound as a fat, bald man—who I’m pretty sure was a beggar—swiped at me with a table knife he’d probably found somewhere. I karate-chopped his forearm, and he dropped the blade, then dived to snatch it up, but I drove my knee into the side of his head as he did so, and he yelped, tumbling to the stone.

The market streets had become an insanity gauntlet, with every would-be hero trying to take a shot at me. I spun, ducked, and danced around them, my movements a not-so-seamless ballet of evasion and self-defense.

A burly blacksmith lunged at me, his callused hands clutching a hammer that could crush a horse. I ducked under his wild swing, pivoted, and then, with an overemphasized bow, I yanked his apron, forcing him to lose balance and spiral belly-first into a barrel of what looked like pineapples. The fruit burst out like cannon fodder, pinging off the heads of the charging horde.

But they kept coming. Kids throwing rocks, an elderly granny with her walking cane, even a fucking cobbler lobbing his boots like grenades. Shit, this was turning into a circus.

Next, I faced an old crone with a wickedly sharp knitting needle, her toothless mouth agape in a war cry. I vaulted over her, grabbed the saggy hood of her cloak, and used it to yank her to the ground before swinging myself onto a nearby awning. A faintly glowing pebble, hurled by a scrawny street urchin with mismatched eyes, whizzed past where my head had been a second ago. Low-level magic, sure, but I’ll bet it would have given me a nasty headache.

I jumped from one awning to another, playing “the floor is lava,” only the lava was a swarming sea of dumb assholes. Just as I was about to leap to a rooftop, a bolt of arcane energy sizzled through the air where I was about to land. My eyes followed the energy trail back to a frumpy-looking woman, her eyes shimmering with dim, magical energy.

“You missed, sucker,” I roared, quickly recalculating my trajectory and bouncing off a hanging sign instead.

Back on the street, I was immediately accosted by a towering figure in a bloody smock, a butcher, judging by the meat cleaver he brandished. I blocked his downward swing with my haladie, feeling the impact reverberate through my bones, then swept his legs out from under him. He tumbled into a baker, who’d been winding up to throw a baguette javelin. The collision sent pastries flying, showering the crowd in a hail of fresh bread. I replaced the haladie and goosed it.

A flicker of movement caught my eye, and I spun just in time to see a matronly woman bearing down on me, wielding a . . . Was that a fucking enchanted mop? Its head shimmered with a brilliance that spelled UH-OH in all capital letters. I balked at the absurdity of it, then dove out of the way; she stumbled past me, momentum redirecting her charge into a nearby tool stall.

I sprinted through narrow alleyways, vaulting over barrels and ducking under clotheslines, with a throng of magic-wielding medieval crazies in hot pursuit. A bearded man with an eyepatch tried to trip me with an oar. I hopped over it with a twirl, causing him to trip himself and crash into a group of his fellow pursuers.

Suddenly, the mob ahead of me seemed to pause as a giant of a man stepped forth from their ranks. Even in this clusterfuck, he stood out, a grizzled warrior with tattoos that suggested a history of making bad life choices. There were cheers of triumph as he made himself known. I wasn’t impressed. I was so hopped up on get-the-fuck-outta-there juice that I didn’t even bother drawing an actual weapon again.

“Fucking bring it, Giggles,” I called out to him. He answered with a roar, charging toward me like a runaway freight train.

Using his own momentum against him, I sidestepped at the last moment, driving my fist into his gut and flipping over his shoulder. He let out a loud Oof! and I landed behind him, raining punishing blows into his kidneys and then pivoting and pressing forward into the crowd before he could recover.

And so it went, the city transforming into a battleground as I fought to keep my footing in the storm of madness. Each step closer to the kedge was a victory, but I was only one guy versus an entire city. I’d just had to get cocky and literal feel like I could take on the world, didn’t I?

As I neared the edge of the city, the crowd began to thin. That didn’t mean they became less dangerous. A fucking fool—a literal jester in bright motley—popped up in front of me, juggling a trio of glowing balls. He grinned madly as he tossed one to me. Instinctively, I caught it—only to yelp as it transformed into a squawking chicken in my hands. I threw it back at him, sending him sprawling in a flapping flurry of feathers.

And yet, through all the mayhem, the lighthouse. It was there, piercing the skyline like a beacon of hope. All I had to do was get there. Easy enough, right?

Fuckin’ wrong. Because the city guard had arrived, now thoroughly alerted and standing in formation before the docks with their pikes raised. And behind them, a phalanx of folks in robes, their hands sparking with magical energy.

“Well fucking goddamn shit-sucking fuck,” I muttered, rolling my shoulders. I took a deep breath, then charged.