That shout to wait was not uttered by one person.
But by four people!
Four people emerged from the shadows in the directions of east, south, west, and north.
In the east, a person wielding a giant sickle, wearing a bird mask, and dressed like a plague doctor from the Silver Age, walked out slowly.
The steps were exceedingly heavy, and with each step, the end of the long-handled sickle struck the cobblestone path, letting out a distinctive clinking sound.
Most notably, a crow stood on the person's shoulder.
The crow's feathers were sleek and shiny, glowing with a unique brilliance even at the last moment before dawn.
From the south, an elderly hunchbacked man appeared, dressed in clothes woven from leaves, branches, and vines, barefoot. Though seeming slow, he was incredibly fast, making not a single sound, as if merging wholly with his surroundings.
It wasn't stealth.
It was more natural, harmonious.
