The two arrived in the Underground layer once again, the rocks shades of crimson in the area blanketed by a hazy red air. The ceiling itself produced neon red light from a pattern of tiles intricately carved into the rocky material, and underneath directly underneath it was a single burgundy red skyscraper that was a mere meter away from touching it. From that skyscraper downwards, a massive city split into four sections sprawled as wide as the area allowed.
The city was enshrouded in that neon red mist, brief breaks in it appearing in the form of lazy lampposts that dotted the city, instead shining a dim white light upon the tiles and the streets. The streets themselves were wide enough for three cars to stand side by side, though they were generally empty in most parts of the city.
There were four distinct districts in the Red Quarters, arranged in a square with the Open District in front as the one you must enter if you wish to see any of the other districts. On the side of the red gate similar to a torii there was a bar to the side, known as The Gutter. Near it was an empty parking lot where some beaten up people nursed their wounds, leaning onto the fine grey bricks of the place as they did so.
There were also several open squares lined by restaurants and residential apartments. A marker of The Crossroads stood in the center, though it had been spray painted to have red designs, each intricate and punkish.
The rightmost section from the Open District was known as the Deep Market, the district heavily focused on trade and commerce as it held regular auctions. Littered about the district were various stores known as workshops, where they sold a massive variety of items and equipment, though most are generally of middling quality. Of course, there are some exceptions, with workshops that have extraordinary craftsman appearing every now and then, though they were usually packed the second they opened.
The leftmost section from the open district was an area similar to a slum known as the Scarlet Rest, where there are quite a number of taverns and places for people to test their own abilities independently or test their mettle in a fight against whoever else was willing. Of course, that was the reason why this place was in comparative disrepair, so that those seeking to battle it out had a place to do so without laying waste to the more developed areas.
And the furthest section is The Den, named after it being mostly populated by members of the Night District, where their headquarters can be seen as the highest of the buildings blanched in red. There were multitudes of buildings that jutted out of the terrain, some sleek and organized in rows, some lopsided and dilapidated in a state of openly embraced disrepair. They were distinctly customized to fit a whim of whoever asked it to be made, showing off a uniqueness unfounded in more of the more industrial buildings.
In this area only, there were pools and lakes filled with translucent water, where more aquarian Guides could refresh themselves within the cool liquid. Numerous temples were scattered about the place, a specialty of the Night District, where its members meditated, ruminated, and developed numerous skills and Sutra.
Bie and Lapil stood past the gates of the Open District, the former leaning against the wall of The Gutter while the latter walked inside. Bie watched as many differently shaped people, Guides and Messengers alike, walked down the squares on their way to various buildings or spoke to each other in crowds. He wondered which one of them would be the one to approach him, and so he scrutinized each passerby as carefully as he could.
He even wanted to activate the Cassius Eyes, though he had an itch in the back of his head that gave him an inkling that doing so would be a bad idea. So, he simply stood and waited, his gleaming topaz yellow eyes flickering about after every single being that started to approach him.
A man wearing a shawl lapel trained his cyan eyes on the baby blue Guide, receiving his popsicle from a street vendor and making his way past the crowd. His shawl lapel was as black as pitch, with a shirt that had fish scale patterns engraved in white running up the length of it and a dark cyan tie. He wore black two piece buckled boots, the sides of which were hidden underneath his pant legs, but each had a depiction of the leviathan imprinted onto the material.
The man himself was as pale as a ghost, the few hints of color on his skin being cyan tinges. His lips were a darkened shade of blue akin to a sea dyed in the moonlight, and his eyelashes were fine and slightly cyan, and eyebrows like thin, straight lines hung above them. His forehead was covered by several locks of bright cyan hair, which was so long that it could've reached his lower back, provided that it didn't floating in the open air as if he was underwater. The ends brightened up the most, and it seemed to flow along a stream as he walked. Suffice to say, he was beautiful like a siren, though the femininity of his face was disrupted by the masculine handsomeness mixed within.
He stood at 1.92 meters, and he walked leisurely and assuredly, his eyes as frigid as the depths of the sea, and a trace of madness was proudly displayed within them. He carried the popsicle as it slowly melted down the streets as he walked, and the crowd noticeably parted wherever he passed. His slow, steady steps took him to Bie, who he immediately crouched down to eye level with.
His eyes were wide open, and to the onlookers watching by the air seemed to press down on them, as if longing to flatten them down into pancakes. Bie stood there, unbothered, instead waiting for the man before him to speak. Minutes passed like trickling water for some, but for the two it was about the same time it would take for them to blink.
The Guide before Bie smiled, his face radiant as he spoke as if he had found long lost family. "Little yaksha, you enjoy slaughter too, don't you?" He said, gauging the sudden sparkle in Bie's eyes before continuing, "Pulling out the intestines, carving in the heads, or bashing in the skull. Out of the three, which do you like?"
"It doesn't matter, mister. I just like to fight; it gets the blood going like nothing else!" Bie became excited, his deadpan demeanor replaced with a jocund countenance. The man nodded, smiling still as he demonstrated his approval.
"Little yaksha, you have a smell just like me? Hey? You should join the Backstreets; I think it'll fit you." Cam Ha Zel, the Backstreets King, extended Bie an invitation on this day, his other hand reached up to his forehead as the tips of his fingers glowed with cyan light.
When the man said that Bie realized exactly who he was and was even excited. Though, he shook his head, not meaning to be affiliated so quickly. Though Cam Ha Zel took no offense to it, thinking in his own mind that the boy before him would either one day join him or find a faction all on his own.
And so the Ban He Merman decided to refine this diamond before him at all costs, impressed at first by his talent and now impressed by the demonstration of tenacity the boy had shown. After all, though it may be imperceptible to most...
The heavy miasma of death followed Bie wherever he went, the years of bloodshed he had just experienced sticking to his bones like muscle and flesh.