Jack: "I won't accept that."
Jack shouts angrily, fists clenched tight.
Henry: "Me neither."
Henry responds firmly, his jaw set.
Man: "I can understand both of your frustrations, but you have to understand that a draw is bad for the business."
The voice comes from the small, wrinkled announcer, the same man who had cried out during the fight. Dressed neatly in a suit and tie, his aged frame now stood between them like a barrier of authority.
Jack: "I want my money."
His voice carried impatience and fury.
Henry: "Me too."
He echoed, standing his ground.
Man: "I know how you feel, but clearly, you know what—Jack, you will receive your earned money from your previous fight. And you, Henry, I can only give you a small compensation."
Henry left the man's bureau moments later, a slight spring in his step as he counted the few coins in his hand.
Henry: "Finally, now I can get something to eat."
He said happily, his stomach growling. Then he spotted Jack outside.
Henry: "Hey, wait!"
He shouted across the street.
Jack turned, the cloak-draped boy standing shyly behind him.
Henry: "Where do you think you are going?"
Jack: "Outside. I got paid; that's why I don't have business here anymore."
He responded in his calm, collected tone.
Henry: "Hey, I just want to talk a little."
Jack: "Alright, talk then…"
The air turned stiff. Silence stretched uncomfortably between them, broken only by the faint chatter from the street. Henry finally exhaled loudly, forcing the ice to crack.
Henry: "You fought pretty well, Jack."
Jack: "Yeah? Why do you care?"
Henry: "Just trying to break the ice between us."
Jack: "Nothing personal, kid, but…"
Henry snapped, cutting him off.
Henry: "Kid?! You don't seem much older than me!"
Jack: "I'm 16."
Henry: "See? You are just 1 year older, dumbass."
The quiet returned, heavier this time, until Jack let out a sigh of his own.
Jack: "Hey man, maybe I was too hard on you. Since it's been a draw, I guess you fought well too."
Henry burst into laughter, slapping his knee.
Henry: "Next time I won't lose."
Jack: "Idiot, next time you won't be laughing."
Both of them laughed now, loud and unrestrained, until a low rumble interrupted them. It wasn't Henry's stomach this time, but the smaller boy's—the one half-hiding behind Jack.
Henry: "And who is that?"
He asked kindly, curiosity in his tone.
Jack: "That's my little brother Lenny."
Lenny stepped forward nervously. He was a short boy with dark blond hair, his round glasses slightly crooked on his nose.
Henry: "Nice to meet you, Lenny. I'm Henry."
He said warmly, smiling.
Henry: "What's that in your hand?"
His eyes flicked toward the glimmer of blue.
Startled, Lenny shoved the stone deep into his pocket.
Lenny: "Nothing"
He blurted quickly.
The three froze in another wall of silence.
Henry: "So, are you guys hungry?"
They left the hall together and entered the heart of the bustling Gravental market. Now every tent was open, smoke and spice filling the air, merchants calling out, and hundreds of people pressing shoulder to shoulder.
Henry stopped before a street-food stall, the scent of roasted meat drifting out.
Henry: "Three wild boar sandwiches, please."
The vendor nodded and set to work. From a tray, he pulled out a long, fresh-baked loaf of bread, steaming as he sliced it open. He filled it with sizzling minced hornboar meat—juicy, mixed with onions, melted cheese, and egg.
Wild boar sandwiches were a Grafenberg favorite. Minced boar meat cooked with onions, cheese, and egg, then shoved into soft bread and topped with a rich sauce. For laborers, it was the perfect summer meal, restoring energy after a long day.
Henry: "One with Candice sauce and the other two with ketchup, please."
The man reached for a wide ketchup tube, then another smaller one filled with an orange sauce speckled with tiny black particles.
Candice sauce was a Grafenberg delicacy—its tang similar to mustard but richer. The bright orange came from Grimmbird yolk, while the dark flecks were exotic spices. The recipe belonged to the famous Candice family, nobles from the province's east.
The vendor finished preparing them and handed the sandwiches to Henry, who carefully stacked all three in his arms.
Henry: "Thank you."
Balancing them like treasure, Henry carried the meal over to Jack and Lenny, who sat waiting on a wooden bench outside the market gates.
Without hesitation, Jack and Lenny snatched the ketchup sandwiches.
"Thanks for the meal."
They said in unison before biting in with hungry satisfaction.
Henry sat down, beaming as he tore into his own.
Henry: "Finally something to eat."
He said with a full mouth.
Jack: "So, where did you learn to fight like that?"
Henry wiped his lips.
Henry: "Before living with my mom, I used to live with my father. He trained me for some time. After that, I and my sister would sometimes train together, but since she left two years ago, I mostly trained alone."
Jack: "You have a sister? How old is she?"
Henry: "She should be 17 by now."
Jack: "1 year isn't that bad."
He remarked, comparing ages with a sly grin.
Henry: "Ehh… So, where did you learn to fight like that?"
Jack: "I fought a lot in events like that to earn money for me and my brother, so I just naturally learned how to fight."
Henry: "Sorry to hear that."
???: "There he is!"
A shout pierced the air.
They looked up to see Giacomo pointing his finger at Lenny, flanked by three officers.
Jack: "What did you do, Lenny?"
Henry: "No time for that—we have to go."
The officers pushed through the crowd, but before they could close the gap—
BOOM!
An explosion ripped through the air from the direction of the auction house. The second floor blasted outward, rubble crashing down into the street.
Officer 2: "The auction house!"
He shouted in shock.
Jack: "Our chance"
Jack seized Lenny's hand and bolted.
Henry: "Hey, wait!"
He shouted, sprinting after them.
Giacomo: "Hey, what's with the boy who stole my stone?"
Officer 1: "We can catch up to them later—first this here!"
The officers rushed toward the destroyed auction house. Smoke billowed, and crowds gathered, murmuring in fear.
Officer 2: "Look up there; there's a man on the second floor."
A lone figure stood before the shattered wall, staring down at the chaos below. His lips twisted into a disturbing smile, both mocking and cruel.
Officer 1: "Hello, sir? Wait there; we will get you out of there as quickly as possible."
The man only smirked wider—then jumped.
Gasps erupted from the crowd. From such a height, bones should have snapped on impact. But he landed silently, unscathed.
Officer 1: "Are you alright, sir?"
The man stood tall, his blonde mullet swaying. He wore black leather jeans, a jacket studded with metal, and piercings in his nose, mouth, and ears. His face was sharp and twisted into a look of pure malice.
Man: "All good, officer; in fact, all perfect."
He sneered, eyes locking on Giacomo. The merchant shivered, sweat soaking his collar.
Realization struck the officer. This man was no victim—he was the cause.
With shaking hands, the officer drew his revolver.
Officer 1: "Hands up, sir."
The man raised one arm, and before anyone could blink, it melted into mud. The appendage shot forward like a whip, covering the officer's head. Bones cracked—his skull crushed in an instant.
Screams tore through the crowd. People fled, shrieking. Few in Grafenberg had ever seen such power—flesh turning into mud, wielded like a weapon.
The second officer raised his gun, but the killer tossed the corpse of his comrade at him. Staggering under the impact, the man shoved the body aside, eyes wide with terror—only for blood to suddenly gush from his mouth.
He turned his head. Behind him, a blade of hardened mud pierced straight through his chest. The killer smiled wickedly, pulling the weapon back as the officer's body dropped.
The mud dissolved back into his arm. Now nothing stood between him and Giacomo.
Giacomo: "W-what do you want… I'll give you everything; please don't kill me!"
Man: "Aye, just give me the stone."
Giacomo: "I… I'm sorry, if you mean the blue stone, I… I don't have it."
Man: "Easy, man, just tell me where it is."
Giacomo: "A kid stole it from me; he… he ran this way with two older guys."
He pointed with trembling hands.
Man: "Alright, thanks, man. This wasn't that hard, right?"
Giacomo sobbed in terror. The man smirked, then his hand turned once more into a muddy blade. With one swift thrust, it pierced Giacomo's stomach. The merchant choked, blood staining his lips, and collapsed lifelessly to the ground.
Man: "Alright, shouldn't be this hard."
And then his body liquefied into mud, flowing into the sewer grates below—leaving behind screams, corpses, and a trail of chaos.