Laroue City, Orofelhe Kingdom
"Jackpot!" A young lad exclaimed, half-whispering and half-shouting.
His eyes scanned what his vision could allow him, assuring that not even as much as a cockroach would threaten his impulsively done, half-baked plan. His eyes shone at the sight of the open chest. Then, he grabs a handful of felh and dumps it into the sack he just stole from the stall next door.
His movement was swift, unbelievably silent, reflecting how much experience he has already garnered in executing this, despite the lack of careful thought.
Conscience miraculously struck him, prompting him to leave a third of the chest's contents behind. Slowly and carefully, he tiptoed away from the rotting chest.
As usual, the front door was a no-go because Mr. Old Drunken Shorty, the owner, was puffing out some smoke, probably his 12th for the night. So, he headed for the back door. There would be a couple of staff members he would encounter, but they'd be too indulged in alcohol to even notice the door open.
At last, the young lad, Clythar, successfully escaped and robbed the infamous rotten old man for the 43rd time.
Clythar comes out to the street, gliding through the bustle of the crowd, to Naomi's, an abandoned apartment in the middle of the street. He darted to the rooftop, where his friend, Levi, had already thrown himself on the fruits of his labor-food from robbery.
"Cly!" Levi shouted, bursting out a couple of crumbs on Clythar's face. "How many did you get from the bar?"
Clythar frowned in disgust, wiping away the crumbs that latched onto his skin. Not long after, a sheepish smile crept across his lips. He sat beside Levi, opening his sack halfway, just enough for his friend to see the amount inside. Levi's jaw loosened just as Clythar expected.
"Holy moly, Cly! With this money, we can have a banquet for two nights!"
Levi wanted to hold the thing itself, but Clythar was immediately putting it aside.
"This is for my sister, not for you to fill your morbidly giant stomach."
"Right." Levi sighed and nodded. "But what about your debt? Won't the guys in the Fang come after you?"
A distorted expression comes across Clythar's face. He shook his head and stomped three loaves of bread into his mouth before he could say something that could get him killed.
His debt? As if he would pay them anytime soon!
His sister's health comes first, which is why he borrowed money in the first place. Out of nowhere, three years ago, she contracted a mysterious disease.
Every single night, she gets a nightmare, and she wakes up bleeding from her seven orifices. And every time, her nightmare gets worse, and her bleeding gets worse.
Clythar was no doctor, and so the least he could do for her was to gather a great sum of money to get her one.
"But you know what, Cly? We cannot just get by like this forever. Stealing could only get us somewhere."
Cly scoffed, almost washing his ears by Levi's sudden deep talking.
"There are not many options for orphans like us, Levi."
Levi sighed. He knew exactly that Cly would say that.
Levi stood up and looked over the fence to the street below. Cly may not have noticed or did he care, but tonight was a special night to him.
"Did you know? A scout from one of the academies in the capital is here, recruiting potential ascendants. The town's unusually packed tonight because everyone is eager to meet him, especially ambitious young lads," Levi explained.
Cly, gradually stopped munching, realizing where this conversation was going.
"Forfeit the idea, Levi. You cannot be an ascendant when you don't even have a talent!"
Levi's expression changed quickly to that of an absolute retort. Clythar got up in a haste and walked off, spreading crumbs all over the place. He waved Levi off, using his sister as an excuse to pass off on hearing his sentiments.
On his way home, Clythar had a glimmer of hope written on his eyes. The amount of money he gathered should at least suffice for a week of treatment.
As he neared the shanty town where he resided with his sister, he quickened his pace. After a bit of shifting and turning, he found their makeshift house, one that is made from bamboo sticks nailed together, covered with two large rusty iron sheets as a roof.
Clythar's head tilted to the side, and his approach became calculating, hearing an unusual commotion inside .
"Woah! Hey, guys! The thief is here!" A man, looking gruff with a slit on his eyebrow and piercing on the tip of his tongue, announced.
Soon after, numerous guys giving the same hoodlum-ish appearance as him came out to greet him. On instinct, Clythar hid the sack of money behind his back.
The man who greeted him walked towards him and dragged him by his hair. Inside the house, Clythar found the doctor soggy with his own blood.
His eyes immediately searched for his sister, whom he found lying on the bed, shivering and turning uncontrollably from her nightmare. Beside her was a familiar figure, the boss of this gang who had gathered inside his home.
It was the boss of Fang, an infamous gang. He was playing with her hair, wiping the sweat on her forehead, and staring at her in a way that made Clythar shift from the uncomfortable feeling.
"What do you want?! I will pay you back I swear!" Clythar exclaimed.
The boss shifted his gaze to him for a second before nudging his minions to do something. Soon after, a needle punctured through Clythar's neck. He collapsed to the floor, excruciating pain shooting from his neck down to his feet.
His veins protruded on his skin, turning into a dark purple hue. He shook uncontrollably. Through his blurry eyes, he managed to see a glimpse of his sister being touched at unnecessary places.
Was that it? Was he going to die just like that? His sister has not been cured yet. He could not just leave her, and not at this moment!
The pain flared up, a burning sensation spreading through every cell in his body. Smoke began to be emitted from his orifices, its smell resembling that of grilled meat. He made efforts to endure the pain, but without an antidote, he is destined to die.
Clythar made a few struggles, wiggling and crawling through the pain. His hand stretched out to his sister, but his consciousness failed him.
Finally, he was no longer suffering. Silence befalls him. And 'til the end he only had one thought: he had to live for his sister.
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A drop of water fell, and its ripples echoed through the endless room. Clythar's ears twitched, continuously hearing the dripping sound.
"What is this? Didn't I die?" He thought.
It felt like he had slept for a hundred years. His body felt heavy yet light and old yet fresh. Finally, he opened his eyes. What felt like a serene, calming change of surroundings was far from the scene that greeted him.
He was living a nightmare, a warped reality, except that nothing had really happened to him just yet. The vast land extended to lengths his eyes could not see. It was dark and eerie, and the only source of light were the distant stars that formed constellations all over the sky. Their formation and arrangement seemed to be avoiding this place, like it was meant for no light to pass through it.
In front of him was a tree, its branches sticking out like ocean waves. It had no leaves and the trunk was dry, yet a black flower, with pointed petals and thorn-like pistil, had been thriving. It had a continuous growth and fall of red dusty pollens, that turns to liquid once they touched the ground. A puddle of blood has already surrounded it. That's where the dripping sound was coming from.
"Oh, a mortal is here." A giggly little voice uttered, almost inaudible. "It has been a millenia, huh?"
Clythar turned back, hearing the voice from behind him. A girl, probably the same age as him, was staring at him directly.
She was covered in a black tulle gown, a black flat-brimmed hat with a shallow crown, and black lace gloves that reached up to her elbows, accompanied by a bloody red umbrella.
"Ughhh, hi?" He laughed awkwardly. "I should not be here. I am supposed to be dead but, do you know how to get back to Laroue?"
If he were alive, then he should get back to his sister as soon as possible.
To answer his questions, the girl smiled.
"You can simply wake up." She smirked. " The fact that you are here means you have died. But the fact that you are here also means you're alive."
Clythar tilted his head to the side, clicking his tongue. He was never good at riddles.
"I am not sure what that means."
"You're going to get back soon, don't worry. But say..." The girl narrowed the gap between her and Clythar to a foot. "Can I come with you?"
Clythar was stunned yet remained still. The girl put down her umbrella on the side and cupped Clythar's face, her palms as cold as ice. What caught Clythar's attention the most is her eyes. They were that of a cat. They were green and had vertical slits.
"U-Uhh sure." Clythar cleared his throat.
The girl grinned.
"No worries. I'll help you deal with your problems."