Life in the slums was a brutal teacher, and Winchester City was its classroom. Every day was a new lesson in survival, a test of reflexes, cunning, and ruthlessness. The streets were a living, breathing entity hostile, unpredictable, and unforgiving. Every corner held a potential predator; every shadow could conceal a hand reaching to take what you had, or worse. But for me, the danger was only part of the equation. The other part was Zion. My brother, my anchor, my only reason to stay soft in a world that demanded coldness.
Zion was sweeping the floor of our crawlspace when I returned from scouting the outer slums. His movements were careful, methodical, a ritual that brought him comfort. I never understood the appeal of order. Chaos and calculation were survival; everything else was wasted effort. Still, I let him perform his rituals. He needed them, and I needed him alive.
"You think anyone will notice if we take the scraps tonight?" he asked quietly, holding a broken piece of stale bread like it was a precious gem.
"Yes. And I don't care," I replied bluntly. "If they notice, they're too slow to matter."
His eyes widened. "You really don't care about anyone but me, do you?"
I tilted my head, letting him wait for the answer. "You're alive. Everyone else is disposable if they interfere with us."
He sighed, a mixture of exasperation and relief. A small, faint smile touched his lips. That was enough. That was always enough.
We prepared to move into the outer slums again, our bodies tense, every sense alert. The slums were a chaotic web of narrow streets, collapsed buildings, and piles of refuse. Humans predominated, but there were Beastkin mercenaries working for local gangs, occasional wandering elves seeking trade or information, and dwarves rarely seen, almost mythological. Everyone knew their place; strength decided status and survival.
"Keep three steps behind," I whispered as we navigated the crowd. "And do not speak unless I ask."
He nodded, obediently, without argument. His trust was absolute. I valued that.
We moved silently, slipping past merchants, guards, and gangs. My eyes scanned every alleyway, every shadow. I noted who was paying attention, who was drunk or distracted, and what we could exploit. Survival wasn't just about speed or strength; it was about information, observation, and patience. Every day, we learned. Every day, we adapted.
As we passed a notorious gang corner, I froze. Five men, rough and wild-eyed, were surveying the street. They smelled of alcohol and malice. One spat on the ground, a silent declaration of ownership over the area. I didn't flinch. I calculated. Opportunity or threat? Opportunity, if we acted correctly. Threat, if we hesitated. We passed without engagement, using a cart tipping over as a distraction. Zion followed precisely, never panicking, always mirroring my movements.
Later, we found a ruined stall to scavenge. Broken jars, moldy bread, scraps of meat. Enough for a modest meal if we were careful. Zion worked with precision, cleaning and cooking, trying to preserve some shred of humanity in a world that punished softness. I watched silently, analyzing our surroundings, every sound, every flicker of shadow. Vigilance was constant.
"Why do you always watch?" Zion asked softly.
"Because no one else does," I replied. "And if I don't, we die."
He frowned. "Do you think everyone's like that?"
"Yes. Some worse. Some just as bad. You can trust no one, not even yourself."
He didn't argue. Good. Learning, slowly. Carefully.
After our meal, we rested briefly, hidden among debris and shadows. Our warehouse crawlspace, small and damp, offered some protection from the constant dangers outside. Zion meticulously organized our few supplies, a ritual to maintain some semblance of order and hope. I observed him, understanding that his illusions kept him sane. I did not need illusions; I needed survival.
He curled beside me as darkness enveloped the city. "Do you ever dream?" he asked.
"No," I said, bluntly. "Dreams are for those who can afford them. We survive or we die. That's the law."
"I wish it wasn't like that," he murmured, resting his head on his knees.
"I know," I said softly, only for him. No one else would hear that. Only him.
And that was the truth of our bond. In a world where nothing else mattered, he mattered. He was my soft spot, my only soft spot, and I would do everything to ensure he remained safe.
The slums were only the beginning. Beyond them lay the middle districts, where merchants and minor nobles operated; the inner rings, home to the city's wealthy; and the Imperial Quarter, where the emperor's influence radiated like a stone thrown into water, its ripples reaching even the darkest alleys. Each layer of the city was a lesson, a hierarchy enforced not by law but by power, wealth, and cruelty.
Avalon Empire was just one of many across the continent of Vastoria. To the north lay the Frostveil Kingdom, icy and unyielding; to the south, Verdantia Forest Dominion, verdant and secretive; eastward, the Obsidian Dominion with its obsidian fortresses; and west, the Azure Sea Confederacy, naval power unmatched. Other continents Drakoryn, Lunaris, Borealis, Pyros, Edenreach, Astryx each had their own empires, races, and dangers. I knew their names, their stories, but they didn't matter yet. Survival here, in Winchester, was the only priority.
Night deepened. Outside, the city's chaos never fully stopped. Guards patrolled, merchants locked their stalls, and gangs maintained their territories. The slums breathed in patterns only those who lived within them could understand. We listened. We observed. We survived.
Zion spoke softly again, "Do you ever wish we weren't like this?"
"Never," I said. "Being soft is a liability. We survive because we aren't soft. But…" I hesitated for a fraction of a second. "But I would bend the rules for you. Always."
He smiled faintly, understanding the weight of my words. For him, I would be soft, patient, protective. For anyone else? They were expendable.
Tomorrow, we would venture out again. Tomorrow, the city would try to take more than bread. But I was ready. Zion would be safe. And that was all that mattered.