Let's return to the boy who had a talk with a demon on top of the roof. Jumping off the roof, the boy clung to the stone walls of a nearby building, his hands and feet in constant contact with the surface. Utilising his earth elemental magic, he controlled his descent, his fingers and toes seemingly melding with the stone to create friction. He slid down with ease, his movements smooth and fluid, until he was close to the ground. With a final push, he leaped off the wall and landed on both feet, the impact causing a slight tremor that reverberated through the cobblestone street. The children playing nearby froze in terror before scattering, their laughter replaced by frightened cries as they fled to the safety of their homes and mothers.
The boy spat on the paved road, a gesture of disdain, and pulled his hood back over his head, shrouding his face in shadow. His hands disappeared into the folds of his cloak, transforming him into a spectre of the night as he navigated the winding streets of Kar-Ah. He passed through bustling marketplaces, where vendors hawked their wares with fervour, and town squares, where people gathered to share news and gossip. The streets grew less crowded as he ventured deeper into the city, until he turned into a narrow, unremarkable alley, one of the countless hidden veins that ran through Kar-Ah's heart.
He lowered his hood and let his hands emerge from the cloak, revealing lean, sinewy arms marked by the trials of his young life. Pressing close to the cold, brick wall of a housing building, he could feel the chill seep into his skin. He breathed deeply, the earthy scent of the bricks filling his nostrils. Summoning his earth elemental magic once more, he began to climb. Bricks jutted out from the smooth wall at his command, providing handholds and footholds. As he ascended, the bricks slid back into place behind him, leaving no trace of his passage.
Reaching the attic, he moved a few wooden planks to reveal a small, hidden room. It was narrow and low, more a crawl space than a proper living area, but it was his sanctuary. A single candle cast flickering light across the sparse interior. His bed, a bundle of straw wrapped in rough cloth, lay in one corner. It was barely more comfortable than the bare floor, but it was a place to rest his head. A small desk, weathered and worn, stood against one wall, topped by a shelf that held a few meagre belongings.
He crossed the room and opened a chest at the foot of his bed. Inside was a coin sack containing his hard-earned money, a pile of papers, and two books rendered useless by his inability to read properly. Digging deeper, finally finding what he was looking for, the boy spread the map on his desk, meticulously checking each marked location for the name "Eagle Castle," a name he had committed to memory. His finger traced a path south-east from Kar-Ah. "Not actually far," he muttered, barely louder than a whisper. Reaching into the chest once more, he pulled out a handmade compass. The needle pointed north-east. "A one or two-day journey... oh right, I have to collect cash today."
Beside the chest lay a worn leather bag. The boy reached for it, carefully packing the map, the compass, a coin sack with some money, and the remaining food he had stored. Slinging the bag over his shoulder, he blew out the candle, casting the room into darkness. He pulled his hood back over his head and left, barricading his flat with the same wooden plank before descending to the ground.
The height made him feel a bit dizzy, but a quick shake of his head helped him regain focus. Using his earth elemental magic, he slid down the wall just as before, his descent smooth and controlled. When he landed, some children watching from a distance exclaimed in awe at his skill, but he paid them no mind. Walking past the alley, he emerged onto one of the main roads.
From a distance, he spotted a crimson-haired guard conversing with an elderly man. "Is that her? The captain Axel told me about?" he wondered, his eyes narrowing. He decided not to engage, focusing instead on his mission. He walked up the road toward the first tier of the city, a bustling area teeming with life.
On his way, he encountered various characters typical of such a place. Among them was a local witch, a woman known for baiting gullible men with promises of wishes and fortune-telling. She was striking, with raven-black hair and piercing green eyes, her attire a mix of vibrant colours and mystical symbols. Many fell for her trap, drawn in by her enigmatic allure and eventually ensnared by her charms, which she exploited mercilessly.
As the boy passed, she lunged at him, her fingers wrapping around his ankle with surprising strength. Her countenance shifted from seductive to desperate, her eyes wide and pleading. "Please, sir, let me tell your fortune!" she cried, her voice a blend of desperation and cunning.
"Tell me, who are you!" the witch demanded, her voice trembling as she stared at him with wide, tear-filled eyes.
Our protagonist raised an eyebrow and growled under his breath. "Why can't I see it…why can't I?" she continued, her tears flowing more freely now. The situation grew more perplexing as onlookers began to gather around them, sensing the tension in the air. Young men, especially, eyed boy with suspicion and hostility, ready to intervene.
The witch calmed down, releasing his ankle. She stood, dusting off her robe from the dirt of the road. She was almost head-to-head with him, though her extravagant cap made her appear taller. From a distance, they must have looked like two adversaries facing off.
"I saw just a glimpse of your life…why can't I see it all?" she asked, her voice trembling with confusion and frustration. Boy's expression remained stoic, his black eyes unreadable. He didn't understand the significance of her statement.
"You're a fortune teller, right? Isn't it your job to see the future?" he asked, hoping to diffuse the situation and calm the crowd, which was now murmuring with curiosity and suspicion. The witch's sympathetic followers, especially the young men, looked ready to defend her.
"Your name? Which one should I use?" she asked, holding her chin thoughtfully. She looked into his eyes as if trying to peer into his soul. "Akira? Was it?"
"It doesn't matter. I'm in a hurry," he replied, his impatience growing. The longer he lingered, the more agitated the crowd became.
"Your past and future are unknown to me…this has never happened before. So I'm asking you…who are you?" Her voice was desperate, pleading.
"A boy named Akira," he replied tersely. Turning his back to her, he started to walk away. But the crowd wasn't willing to let him go so easily. They began shouting, "Answer her!", "Who are you?!", "What's wrong with this guy?!"
Akira tried to weave his way through the mass of people, but they forcefully blocked his path. Some even pushed him, and when one man tried to punch him, the situation escalated into violence. Akira dodged the punch effortlessly, countering with a swift jab that confused his attacker, followed by a high left kick that knocked him out cold. In the scuffle, his bag fell from his shoulder, and someone tried to snatch it. With a quick incantation, he summoned a low wall of earth that blocked their path, causing them to crash into it headfirst.
The crowd grew more violent, lunging at him from all sides. Akira dodged and blocked attacks with a fluid grace, his elemental magic assisting him. A single punch or kick was enough to incapacitate most of his assailants, but a few proved to be tougher. Amidst the chaos, the witch began waving her arms and shouting to draw everyone's attention.
"Stop it! Don't fight!" she cried. Her followers immediately ceased their assault, looking to her for guidance. Akira paused as well, his eyes narrowing as he studied her. She approached him, her steps cautious yet determined.
"Meet me here when you have some free time…I would like to have a talk with you, Ter…Akira." Her voice was soft, almost tender.
Akira didn't respond. He simply turned and walked away, the crowd parting reluctantly to let him pass. His destination was clear: Axel's headquarters. His mind, however, was filled with questions about the enigmatic witch and her puzzling statements.
He reached Axel's headquarters not long after, the entry nestled in a narrow alley not far from the Human God Temple and the bustling Craftsmanship Road. The entrance was subtle, a simple wooden door marked with a barely noticeable symbol etched into the wood. The symbol—a stylized serpent intertwined with a dagger—hinted at the shadowy dealings within.
Akira managed to slip past the guard, escorted by a thin, wiry man and a maid. The hallway they entered was an unexpected contrast to the plain exterior. It was opulently decorated with wooden walls, polished to a high shine, adorned with candle sconces made of silver. The flickering candlelight danced across paintings of Axel and historical or mythical figures, giving the space an eerie, almost surreal atmosphere. Fresh flowers in ornate vases added a touch of color and fragrance, blending strangely with the rich wooden furniture that lined the walls.
As they walked, the air was thick with a mix of sounds: the laughter of customers, the clinking of glasses as wine and beer were poured, the sniffing of drugs, and the unmistakable moans of pleasure. To most of the capital's residents, this place might seem like a hedonistic paradise, but to Akira, who had grown up in quieter, less depraved surroundings, it was an unsettling experience.
The maid announced his arrival to Axel before opening a door to the boss's office. The room beyond was even more lavish, with gold and silver ornaments, vases, luxurious furniture, animal furs, and marble statues. Every surface seemed to gleam with wealth and power, an ostentatious display meant to intimidate and impress.
Axel, a slender man in his forties, lounged on a sofa, smoking a cigarette. His grey moustache and long black dyed hair framed a face that was both handsome and sinister. He wore only a light robe, which hung loosely on his frame, exposing his chest. Despite his relaxed appearance, his piercing yellow eyes were sharp and calculating, missing nothing.
As Akira entered, a naked prostitute hurried past, covering herself with some nondescript garment. Axel stood up, a languid grace in his movements, and spread his arms wide as if welcoming a long-lost son. But there was something unnerving about his smile, something that hinted at a deeper, more dangerous nature.
"My boy," Axel greeted, his voice smooth and oily. Akira, having no familial ties to the man, ignored the gesture and got straight to the point.
"You know why I'm here."
Axel's smile widened, but his eyes remained cold. "I'm not dumb... Yo, girl," he called out, causing the maid to re-enter the room, confused. She pointed at herself to confirm if he meant her, but before she could speak, he added, "Find my brother, 300 for the boy." Clapping his hands to hasten her, the maid bowed and replied, "Yes, sir," before leaving.
Akira stood in the middle of Axel's lavish office, taking in the opulence around him. The room was filled with intricate details: the gold and silver ornaments, the lush furs, the marble statues depicting both serene and violent scenes. His eyes wandered over the wealth, but his mind was focused on his purpose.
"I have a deal for you, boy... work for me," Axel proposed, dropping his cigarette into a crystal ashtray and fixing Akira with his piercing gaze.
"No."
Axel chuckled, a low, dangerous sound. "Look, boy, it's a great offer. Think about it." He stood up and walked over, draping his arm over Akira's shoulder, guiding him around the office. "You don't have to do much," Axel's voice flowed like honey, each word a subtle persuasion laced with promises of opulence.
"Money for me is only for survival. It has no more meaning," Akira's reply was cold and resolute, his eyes fixed on the polished wooden floor, refusing to meet Axel's gaze.
"Roof over your head, the finest food and wine. Drugs, oh yes, a plethora of them," Axel continued, reclining again in his ornate chair, framed by the flickering candlelight that danced across the walls adorned with paintings of legendary figures and opulent tapestries.
"I can give you everything… You want a woman? I have the best of them…" Axel's tone shifted, teasing and mocking, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.
Akira's eyes momentarily flickered towards Axel, then returned to their survey of the lavishly decorated office. Axel's laughter filled the room, rich and echoing, but it abruptly gave way to a fit of coughing, a stark reminder of mortality amidst such decadence.
"Yo, boy," Axel persisted, his voice now edged with curiosity. "A woman… Surely you desire one? You've never tasted the pleasures they offer, have you?"
Ignoring Axel's taunts, Akira remained stoic, his features betraying nothing as he continued to avoid direct confrontation.
A gentle knock at the door interrupted the tense exchange. Axel nodded approvingly, granting entry to a maid bearing a small chest. She approached Akira with deference, opening the chest to reveal a sack of coins nestled within. Without hesitation, Akira reached inside, withdrawing the sack and swiftly stowing it away in his own bag.
"So much trust," Axel remarked dryly, a trace of irritation lacing his tone as Akira maintained his silence.
Turning to leave, Akira's departure was punctuated by Axel's parting words, a blend of defiance and resignation tinged with a hint of allure.
"If you change your mind," Axel called out, his voice carrying a mix of challenge and intrigue, "come back. I can provide any woman you desire, from a virtuous nun to a regal princess, or even a seductive temptress."
With that, Akira strode purposefully out of Axel's sumptuous office, leaving behind the allure of wealth and pleasure. Axel watched him go, his expression inscrutable, a myriad of emotions flickering across his face before settling into a mask of contemplation. The grandeur of his surroundings seemed to dim slightly in Akira's wake, the room filled now with an unsettling stillness that echoed the boy's enigmatic resolve.
As Akira was escorted back to the entrance by the maid, something felt off. The hallway was the same, adorned with lavish wooden panels, elegant candles in silver holders casting a warm glow, and paintings depicting Axel's life, historical figures, and mythical legends. However, the air was thick with an aromatic scent that, while pleasant to some, sent chills down Akira's spine. His instincts, honed from years in the forest, told him something was wrong.
They walked further, and Akira's ears picked up a faint, desperate whisper for help. He halted, his senses attuned to the slightest sound, just as he did in the wilderness. The maid, sensing his hesitation, urged him to continue, dismissing it as brothel business not meant for his concern. Akira, though, kept his focus sharp, ears straining for more clues. Behind one seemingly ordinary door, he heard the unmistakable sound of a whip slicing through the air, followed by a muffled scream.
Stopping again, he pressed his ear closer to the door, every fiber of his being alert. Suddenly, Axel emerged from his office, yawning and stretching. Noticing Akira's intense focus on the door, Axel sauntered over, a hint of amusement in his eyes.
"It's inappropriate to peep, you know," Axel chided.
For a fleeting moment, Akira's stoic facade cracked, revealing a flash of fear and turmoil. Regaining his composure, he pointed at the door. "Who is there?"
A loud, desperate scream for help pierced through the door, the voice of a young girl in agony. Akira's fists clenched, his body tensing, ready to break down the door. Axel, sensing his intention, intervened, stretching out his arm to stop him.
"Don't even try," Axel warned, his palm open in a gesture of command. Turning to the maid, he asked, "Lucy, who is there?"
"The guild master from the Harbor, his name is—"
"The girl, I mean," Axel interrupted, preventing her from divulging more information about his clients.
"I don't know her. She's new, from the latest shipment. Sold by her own parents."
Axel sighed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Akira's barely contained rage. More whip cracks and the girl's cries intensified the tension. Akira's patience snapped; he was ready to kick the door down when a guard appeared, pressing a sword to his throat. Akira, undeterred, raised three fingers toward Axel.
"300 for her!" he demanded.
Axel smirked, amused. "You said it yourself, money is only for your survival. You'd trade it for some brat?"
"300!" Akira repeated, his voice unwavering.
Axel laughed, shaking his head. "You never cease to surprise me. Take the guild master out, and you, kid, wait here."
Akira tossed his coin sack at Axel, who caught it effortlessly. The guard sheathed his sword and left, while Akira and the maid waited by the door. Axel yawned again, making his way to handle the situation. Heated arguments ensued, the guard confronting the client, and then, silence.
Akira dashed inside. The room was dim, lit only by a flickering candle casting eerie shadows on the walls. On the bed, a young girl, no older than fourteen, lay curled up. Her maid outfit was tattered, soaked in blood, with fresh whip marks crisscrossing her skin. She sobbed uncontrollably, her breaths coming in ragged, airless gasps.
Akira approached her gently, his heart aching at the sight. He patted her head softly, but she didn't respond, her mind lost in a haze of pain and fear. He took off his coat and wrapped it around her delicate frame. The fabric, still warm from his body, offered a semblance of comfort. Lifting her carefully into his arms, he whispered, "You are safe now."
With misty eyes, the girl looked at Akira, but then her gaze went vacant. Her crying ceased, and her breath became shallow and irregular. Realising her life was hanging by a thread, Akira's heart raced. With all his speed, he dashed out of the building, leaving the maid behind in a heartbeat. He barreled through doors and knocked aside guards, each obstacle no match for his urgent determination.
Outside, the bustling city stretched before him. He recalled the nearest clinic and darted through narrow alleys to avoid the dense crowds. Running parallel to a tall building, he used his earth elemental magic. Bricks popped out of the wall, forming a makeshift staircase as he sprinted upward. Reaching the roof level, he dashed and leaped across buildings, his movements fluid and swift. Within moments, he was above the clinic.
Leaping down several meters with the girl in his arms, he landed with a tremor that shook the building. He burst through the clinic's door, startling a woman working inside.
"She's dying!" Akira's voice was a desperate cry.
Nurses rushed to him, their faces a mix of concern and urgency. One of them, a stern-faced woman, took charge. "Come with me! Quickly!" she commanded.
Akira followed her to a small room. "Put her here!" she instructed, and he gently laid the girl down. His coat, now drenched in her blood, revealed the severity of her wounds. Slashes and holes in her tattered outfit rendered it useless as a covering. The girl, with tired, sleepy eyes, glanced at Akira. A deep wound stretched from her chin to her left eye, causing immense pain as she tried to speak or even smile. But there was nothing to smile about.
An older woman in a white suit and apron entered, her right hand glowing with a green magical rune inscribed with spinning ancient symbols. Akira recognized the spell: Healing. In her left hand, a violet spell called "Stop Bleeding". The latter was self-explanatory, but the Healing spell was often misunderstood. It didn't heal directly but enhanced the body's natural healing abilities. If the girl was destined to die, no amount of healing magic could save her.
Akira was unceremoniously pushed out of the room. As he walked toward the door, a nurse intercepted him. "Are you her brother? Husband?" she inquired.
"No one," Akira replied. "I found her in a place where she should never have been."
"Treating her will take time and will cost..." the nurse trailed off, looking expectantly.
Akira reached into his bag, pulled out his coin sack, and handed it to her, keeping only a small amount for himself. The nurse accepted it gratefully.
"Now we can only wait and pray. We'll let you see her tomorrow... if she makes it."
Akira didn't respond. With a heavy heart and his bloodied coat slung over his shoulder, once he stepped out of the clinic, the weight of the world seemed to lift off his shoulders. Akira pulled up his bloody hood, concealing his face once more. The transformation was immediate—his eyes grew steely, his posture rigid. He melded back into the bustling crowd, becoming just another shadow amidst the throngs of people. The noise, the colors, the chaos of Kar-Ah swirled around him, but Akira moved through it all with the detachment of a ghost. Within moments, he had vanished, swallowed by the city's endless motion.