"Sigh"
Sumit let out a long, exhausted sigh, leaning back in his chair as he watched Jack devour his food with unrestrained enthusiasm. Somehow, the wolfman's sheer Vigor made even the most chaotic events of the day feel trivial. Around them, the pub buzzed with life—beast-people clinking mugs, exchanging boisterous tales of battles and roaring with drunken laughter.
"No matter how I look at it, this world is weird," Sumit muttered, shaking his head.
The table was piled high with a variety of dishes—fresh fruits, an assortment of nuts, and, to Sumit's growing unease, slabs of raw meat. He stared at the meat, its faintly marbled surface glistening under the dim, flickering light. Raw meat? The plant animals he'd encountered never had flesh like this. Was it from a completely different creature? The thought churned in his mind.
Jack, ever observant, caught Sumit's hesitation and grinned, his sharp teeth glinting in the low light. "What's the matter, kid? Don't tell me you're afraid of a little meat."
Sumit shrugged, masking his discomfort. "I'm vegetarian," he replied simply.
Jack threw his head back in booming laughter, drawing curious glances from nearby tables. "Vegetarian, huh? You're just like those grass-eaters out there. Your loss, you know. A good chunk of meat builds strength like nothing else."
Seated beside Jack, Leo, a tiger man with sharp eyes, gave him a disapproving look. "Leave him alone, Jack. Not everyone has the same taste."
Sumit chuckled at their banter, finding their dynamic oddly comforting. "I'll stick to the fruit and nuts, thanks," he said, reaching for the nearest platter. He picked up a crisp, golden fruit and bit into it, savoring its sweetness—a welcome reprieve from the harsh bitterness of survival. His curiosity, however, lingered. He glanced back at Jack, who was still wolfing down his meal.
Jack paused mid-bite, noticing Sumit's gaze. "What, changed your mind?" he teased, holding up a piece of raw meat. "You want to give it a try?"
Sumit shook his head firmly. "No, thank you," he said, returning his attention to his food.
As he nibbled on the fruits and nuts, he focused intently, savoring every bite as though it might be his last. Despite the strange, overwhelming world he had found himself in, moments like these—simple meals and light-hearted company—offered a fleeting sense of peace.
As they finished the last scraps on the table, a dog-man approached with a neatly folded apron draped over one arm and a small slate in hand. "Your bill, gentlemen. Seven silvers and eight copper."
Sumit instinctively glanced at Jack, half-expecting the wolf-man to turn to him for payment. Before he could say anything, Leo calmly reached into his pouch and handed eight silver coins to the dog-man without a word.
"Thanks, Leo!" Jack exclaimed, slapping the tiger-man on the back with enough force to rattle nearby mugs. "See, kid? Told you Leo would cover it."
Leo's glare could have frozen fire. "That was a loan," he said coolly. "You're paying me back. With interest."
Jack leaned back, feigning innocence. "A loan? I thought this was your treat."
Leo didn't dignify the comment with a response. He rose from his seat, his tail flicking sharply in irritation as he headed for the door.
Amused by their exchange, Sumit turned to Jack. "The tournament you mentioned earlier—how soon does it start?"
Jack paused mid-stretch and glanced at him. "Oh, right. You're here for that." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "If I remember correctly, it starts in fifteen days. But you'll want to get registered tomorrow—sooner's always better."
Sumit nodded, his expression turning serious. Fifteen days. Time was short, and preparation would be key. In this unpredictable world of beast-people, the tournament was his only tangible clue for finding his way home.
After finishing their meal, Jack led Sumit through the bustling streets to an inn called Bear's Cave. The building radiated rustic charm, its wooden beams polished with age and lanterns casting a warm, flickering glow. A family of bear-people ran the establishment, their burly frames and booming voices creating an atmosphere that was equal parts homely and intimidating.
"Two silvers per night, meals included," Jack announced as they stepped inside. "Cheap, right?"
Sumit did a quick calculation. With the 73 silvers he had received from the plant-monkeys, he could easily afford twenty nights. He handed over 40 coins, securing himself a modest room for the next twenty days.
The room was simple but clean. The bed, with its coarse blanket and firm mattress, felt like a luxury after weeks of sleeping on dirt and leaves. As he sank into it, a wave of relief swept over him. For the first time in what felt like forever, Sumit allowed himself to truly relax.
His body rested, but his consciousness drifted into the now-familiar dream world. Standing in the surreal landscape, he saw the black Cat-man after what felt like a long absence.
"Hello. What do you want to talk about today?" Sumit asked, now accustomed to these dream encounters. He knew the Cat-man often addressed whatever questions had been lingering in his mind.
"Straight to the point, huh?" the Cat-man replied with a teasing smirk. "So, tell me—what's the deal with the watch?"
"You can see my memories, right? Just look for yourself," Sumit said with a shrug. Sharing memories was one of the peculiar abilities they had discovered in these dreamlike meetings.
"Very well." The Cat-man stepped closer, his piercing eyes glowing faintly as he sifted through Sumit's memories since his encounter with the strange device.
After a moment, the Cat-man pulled back, his expression thoughtful. "So, you're from another world, and to return home, you need to take part in this 'competition' as the watch advised."
"Yeah," Sumit admitted, "but I'm not confident I can win the tournament."
The Cat-man tilted his head. "True, it won't be easy to win. But the watch didn't say win, did it? It just said to take part."
Sumit's eyes widened in realization. "Oh, you're right! That's a relief. I don't have to win to get back."
The Cat-man smirked. "That's correct. But don't get complacent. You should still give it your all—just in case."
"Yeah, I know," Sumit replied, determination creeping into his voice.
The Cat-man nodded approvingly. "Good. Now, rest up. You'll need it. Goodbye for now."
"Wait!" Sumit called out as the Cat-man turned to leave. "Why do you have such a weird name?"
Without turning back, the Cat-man simply said, "Bye," and vanished, leaving Sumit alone with his thoughts.
....
The morning sunlight streamed through the thin curtains, but Sumit was oblivious, lost in the embrace of sleep. It wasn't until Jack burst into his room, his voice a thunderclap, that Sumit stirred.
"Get up, kid! We've got work to do!" Jack's grin was infectious, his energy unstoppable as he dragged Sumit—still half-asleep—out of bed.
"Jack, what the hell?" Sumit groaned, trying to pry himself free. "Can't a guy get some rest?"
"Rest later," Jack said with a wink. "Registration first."
Their destination was a towering white building that shimmered like a pearl under the sun. The Temple of Life was an architectural marvel, its spires reaching skyward as if in prayer. Intricate carvings adorned the walls, depicting scenes of creation, growth, and renewal. The air around it felt sacred, charged with an energy that made Sumit's skin tingle.
"This," Jack said, his tone unusually solemn, "is the Temple of Life. They're the ones overseeing the tournament. Don't mess around here, kid. This place is as serious as it gets."
Inside, the temple was even more breathtaking. The ceilings seemed impossibly high, and every inch of the walls was covered in murals, each one a story in itself. At the center stood a Deer-woman, her white robes flowing like liquid light. Her presence was serene yet commanding, her eyes piercing as they met Sumit's.
"Welcome," she said, her voice soft but firm. "Are you here to register for the tournament?"
"Yes," Sumit replied, his voice steady despite the growing weight of the moment.
The priestess led him to a vast hall, her footsteps echoing in the silence. She turned to face him, her gaze unwavering. "To register, you must prove your aura. Only mid-level users are exempt from the selection round. Show me your power."
Sumit nodded, extending his hand. Channeling his aura outward, he let the golden glow envelope his palm. He glanced at the priestess, expecting approval.
"Shape it," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.
"Shape it?" Sumit repeated, frowning.
"To qualify as mid-level, you must shape your aura outside your body," she explained.
Sumit swallowed hard, the weight of her expectation pressing down on him. He tried to form claws, like Jack's, but the aura flickered and faded. He tried a blade next, but it dissipated before taking form. The priestess's lips tightened, disappointment shadowing her serene face.
Desperation clawed at Sumit's chest. He closed his eyes, focusing every ounce of his will. Finally, an idea sparked. He enveloped his hands in the aura, molding it into crude gauntlets. When he opened his eyes, the golden glow had solidified.
The priestess studied his work, her expression softening. "Good, you qualify as a mid-aura user," she said. "Please pay the registration fees for completing your registration."
...…..
Unbeknownst to Sumit, a clandestine meeting was unfolding within the shadowed recesses of the Temple of Life. The sacred structure, revered as a bastion of hope and renewal, now bore silent witness to a gathering that betrayed its purpose. In a hidden chamber far from the watchful eyes of its keepers, hooded figures sat in a circle, their whispers a chilling contrast to the temple's sanctity.
"How are the preparations?" one figure asked, his voice a venomous hiss that seemed to taint the air.
"All proceeds as planned," another replied, his tone calm but laced with malice. "The tournament will bring the strongest here. They'll come willingly, drawn by the promise of glory, unaware they march to their deaths."
A third figure chuckled, the sound sharp and sinister. "Blind fools. They think they're chasing greatness, but their strength will be harvested to awaken him."
"Our lord will rise," the first figure intoned, his voice a low growl. "And when he does, even this place of life will bow to him."
The group's laughter was muted but no less chilling, their sinister intentions weaving a thread of shadow into the heart of the temple itself. Beyond the hidden chamber, the temple's hallowed halls remained quiet, the echoes of prayers and hymns unable to reach the darkness within.