It was night in the slums. The dark clouds rolled in the sky, pouring a torrent of rain from their inexhaustible wells. The wind was cold, and there was a foul, rotting stench in the air. Faintly, the smell of blood could be perceived, carried by the wind.
The air was filled with particles of dust and smoke, both micro and macro, making it difficult for a normal person to breathe it in for a long period of time.
In the slums though, all of this was normal. Perfectly normal in fact.
Hurried steps accompanied by the pitter patter sounds of the rain striking the filthy ground could be heard from time to time.
Among these hurried steps were the steps of a shadowy figure. The figure was dressed in a black coat that was clearly oversized and was hurrying towards a dark alley in between two buildings with half their compartments gone while clutching something with their left hand.
Not far behind the figure was a burly man dressed in a dirty shirt and torn shorts, chasing them furiously.
"Hey you, stop right there dammit! I swear once I get you, I'll tear you limb from limb and eat you for breakfast tomorrow," the man said, his fury burning like wildfire.
"You'll have to get me first, motherfucker!" The figure being chased replied with a voice full of darkness and spite.
The man who spoke earlier turned red and started chasing with renewed speed. He would've called out to someone to help him, but no one cared about you in the slums. Unless you gave them something in return of course.
'I can't let anyone find out about that thing, they'll kill me for it instead!'
Therefore, he could only grit his teeth and follow the steps of the rat he was chasing into the alley.
The moment he stepped into the alley and got covered in the shadows the buildings casted, something bright flashed before his eyes, followed by a deep, piercing sensation of pain that drowned his mind like a surging sea.
He tried to shout for help, not caring about keeping secrets anymore, but the bright light flashed again and he felt a wave of weakness wash over him. After that, his vision went dark. He had died.
The figure that had hid themselves in the dark shadows of the similarly dark alley slowly stepped out while hearing a soft whisper in their ear.
[Human slain. Your shadow is strengthened.]
"It's a pity he wasn't putting on any decent pants," the figure said. Then, they walked away, leaving a cold, disemboweled and simultaneously headless corpse behind.
Fin sucked in a deep breath of the cold, dusty air and marched forward like nothing happened. Only the short, bloody scythe in his right hand betrayed the story of what actually transpired.
He had killed someone, but he didn't really feel anything. Although he stole from the man, the item was originally his, also, the man actually dared to say that he would eat him.
'Unforgivable!'
Fin pulled his oversized coat closer to himself, trying not to shiver as he walked past piles of sewage, mounds of refuse and some fresh corpses on the side. Someone had probably died from the hands of those detestable house plunderers again.
Avoiding the most crowded places, he moved towards the deepest parts of the slums, where the dust and smoke particles were accompanied by chemicals. And of course, the culprits that released these hazardous things into the atmosphere were the factories that served the city dwellers.
The place he was headed was closest to the pipes that released the pollutants, making the place inhabitable for normal humans.
'But I'm certainly not a normal human, am I?'
He smiled slightly, expressing both happiness, sadness and frustration. Then, he shook his head, hiding those feelings and walking faster into the most polluted parts of the slums. Soon, his figure turned blurry and disappeared altogether.
In the mist made up of particles harmful to every respiratory system, Fin felt slightly uncomfortable, but that was it. A slight discomfort and nothing else. He walked for a few seconds before stopping in front of a small shed.
Like all the buildings in the slums, this one was also in a state of deterioration. It had cracks running across its walls, no doors, a small connection of jagged glass shards where a window once was and a bare interior.
Looking at it, Fin sighed.
'At least it has a complete roof.'
Inside the shed, he removed his oversized coat and hung it on a short pole made of rusted iron. He then walked towards the small opening filled with glass shards that was once a window and sat down on a chair, revealing his face and body in its full glory.
He was short and thin, he had a pale skin that was almost sickly and had only a pair of shorts covering his groin. His hair was black, but so messy that it was almost dark brown. It was a bit long, and it spilled over all the way to his nape in a messy and disheveled manner.
His face was the average one that could be found anywhere, but his eyes were striking. They were dark, so dark that it seemed the two pupils were made up of shadows.
He placed his two hands on the large piece of rusted iron which served as a table. In his right hand was a short scythe with a slightly curved handle and a curved blade. It was simple, but sharp, too sharp to be normal.
It was a Soul Armament after all.
In his left hand, was a squirmy thing that looked like a cocoon made of grotesque tentacles. He studied it for a while before trying to unwrap it.
Surprisingly, the tentacles of the small cocoon that could be held in a tight fist were really strong, making it a chore to open them. Therefore he had to do it gradually.
When he was done, the cocoon had opened, revealing a blood red eye that emitted a ghostly light. After a moment of hesitation, he picked up his coat and hid his scythe inside and pointed the ghostly light towards himself.
'I really hope this works.'
The ghostly light shone with almost corporeal intensity and then… he disappeared.