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Chapter 81 - Chapter 81: The City of Broken Truths

Shino Taketsu walked down the dusty road leading to the gates of the city. The sun was setting, yet the streets were still strangely alive — vendors shouting, beggars pleading, guards laughing too loud at jokes that were not funny. Something felt wrong. The air itself seemed to carry a bitter taste, as if it had absorbed centuries of lies.

The gates were tall, decorated not with symbols of unity or justice, but with painted faces of the so-called "Prophets of Light." Their eyes were wide and unblinking, promising salvation in gold lettering. Shino paused for a moment, studying the faces. Light that blinds, he thought. Chains that call themselves freedom.

As soon as he stepped inside, the stench of the city hit him — sweat, smoke, rotting grain. Men in white robes walked the streets, handing out slips of parchment with verses, speaking loudly of purity and obedience. People bowed their heads as they passed, but Shino noticed their eyes — hollow, afraid.

He did not bow.

A guard saw him and frowned. "Hey! You! Show respect when the Prophet's words are spoken!"

Shino met the guard's gaze, silent, unmoving. The moment stretched, tension rising like a drawn bowstring. Then, with a dismissive grunt, the guard shoved past him.

Shino kept walking, though inside his heart burned.

---

Night fell quickly. The city turned darker, yet no one slept. Loud chants echoed through the streets, praising the "False Dawn" — a ritual meant to keep people awake, to remind them who held power here. Shino slipped into the shadows, watching from a distance.

He saw a woman collapse in the street, too tired to stand. A preacher screamed at her for her "lack of faith" and struck her with a staff. Something inside Shino shifted — a quiet decision.

When the preacher raised his staff again, Shino moved. His hand shot out, catching the wooden pole mid-swing. The preacher turned, startled.

"Who dares interfere with the Prophet's judgment?" he bellowed.

Shino's eyes were calm, but his voice was steel.

"Judgment? This is cruelty."

Gasps rippled through the crowd. No one spoke against the preachers — ever.

The preacher swung at him again, but Shino sidestepped, fast as wind. The staff cracked against the ground where he had stood. In the same motion, Shino twisted the weapon free from the preacher's grip and snapped it over his knee. The sound of breaking wood echoed like thunder.

The people watched, breathless.

"You…" the preacher hissed, backing away. "You are a heretic!"

Shino did not answer. He simply helped the fallen woman to her feet and placed the broken staff in the preacher's hands as if to say, your power is over. Then he melted back into the crowd before the guards arrived.

---

Later, in the quiet backstreets, whispers began to spread.

"A stranger stood against the preacher."

"He broke the Prophet's staff."

"Someone defied them… and lived."

Shino found a small abandoned shrine and sat there, thinking. He had not planned to act tonight — only to observe. But the city's cruelty demanded an answer, and his silence had become too heavy to bear.

A sound made him turn. A boy, no older than twelve, stood at the doorway, clutching a piece of bread.

"You… you're the one who stood up to them," the boy said, wide-eyed.

Shino did not deny it. "And what of it?"

The boy hesitated, then stepped closer. "They took my brother last week. Said he was a doubter. No one ever sees the doubters again. But when you fought back… people saw. People are talking."

Shino's gaze softened. This was how it began — not with armies, but with whispers, with hope.

"Tell the others," Shino said quietly. "The city of broken truths will not stay broken forever."

The boy nodded, determination lighting his face.

As the night deepened, Shino rose, pulling his cloak around him. The false prophets would soon hear about the stranger who defied them. That was good. Fear worked both ways — and tonight, for the first time, fear had changed sides.

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