《Pandora's Hymn》 Prologue The sun''s blinding rays pierced the young man''s room effortlessly. Its bright lights beamed atop his face, sending a slow warmth through his cheeks. His light green eyes revealed themselves to his room¡¯s only window, peering over the communal district of the second biggest kingdom in the continent: Yoland, the city of Dragons. Though there were no dragons to truly speak of. Many of the divine creatures that shared this kingdom¡¯s history had all but died, and their kin left for better land decades ago. The sacred namesake was built on its history, and on history it seemed to stay. The people were as proud about their kingdom¡¯s past as an old general, trapped within his own memories. They lorded their supposed ¡°ancient blood¡± over anyone that so much as suggested they weren¡¯t born in the kingdom. Claimed their oh-so-obvious superiority over beastmen¡ªdemi humans that reside in the far north¡ªas if they¡¯d die a horrible death if such words weren¡¯t spoken. The young man¡¯s emerald eyes scanned over the dozens of citizens below him, even from his room on the higher floors of the inn, his ears instinctively picked up on the whispers that traveled through the district. Not a word could be heard from his spot, but their moving lips told him all he needed to know; they were discussing the fall of Retta, the top rated military base that was Yoland¡¯s only line of defense, and his home until recently. A well of sluggardly disgust bubbled deep within his stomach. Those emerald eyes that stared out of his open window unconsciously fixed themselves into a genuine glare. Every inch of his skin crawled with the burning desire to- Knock Knock The young man snapped his head back in surprise; he expected people from the Investigation Squad to once again inquire about what he knew about Retta¡¯s fall, but this was earlier than he expected. ¡°It¡¯s open.¡± He responded, sliding himself back into a seated position on his bed as a single man opened the door to his room. He was about 5¡¯9¡± with dirty brown hair and dark brown eyes, and sported a grey long-sleeve shirt with beige pants. The scars on his face told the story of a battle-hardened man, but his carefree¡ªand rather goofy¡ªexpression took away any tension the emerald eyed young man felt in his presence. The brown haired man gave a wide smile as he pulled a wooden chair from its table and sat down on it, his arms rested softly on the top rail. ¡°How ya been?¡± The man asked, letting his wide grin show even more. ¡°I feel like shit, Ezekiel. And those Yolans aren¡¯t too helpful.¡± The young man sighed, glad that his old friend was the one to visit him so early in the morning. ¡°Even the commoners here have this¡­ strange sense of self-righteousness that blinds them from the trouble they¡¯re in.¡± Ezekiel shared an expression of agreement with the young man, staring off out of the same open window his friend gazed out of mere moments before. ¡°A caged bird is clueless to the world beyond it.¡± He remarked with a slight chuckle. The young man jumped out of his bed and swung his dresser doors wide open, snatching a pair of folded clothes and throwing them on with swiftness. Ezekiel picked up the item that sat on the side of his friend¡¯s bed, with feelings of elation and regret melded together into something best described as uncomfortable. The item in question reached to about 110cm long, its grip wrapped in brown wrap while its guard and pommel shared a bright golden sheen. The blade was freshly made, shown by its coruscating shine in the sun¡¯s rays. He couldn¡¯t help but marvel at the piece of fine weaponry he held in his hands. ¡°For someone who swears he¡¯s not a blacksmith, you make some damn fine weapons.¡± Ezekiel whistled, holding the broadsword high above his head. ¡°Because I¡¯m not.¡± The young man responded nonchalantly. He felt that if he didn¡¯t do something with as much commitment as he treated cooking or training, it couldn¡¯t be considered more than a pastime or necessity. ¡°Quite different from the ¡®Lord of the Pillows¡¯ I heard so much about during our academy days.¡± Ezekiel laughed. The young man clicked his tongue as he snatched the blade from his friend¡¯s hand and slipped it into its scabbard. The similarly brown and gold protectant easily fit around his shoulder and waist over the black fur jacket he wore. He tied the straps over his body and leather gauntlets tightly, waiting for the light click sound that let him know they were in place. He left his spot without so much bothering to close his dresser, giving Ezekiel a look of expectance before leaving his room. ¡°Sheesh, if this keeps up they may consider him a missing person too.¡± Ezekiel sighed, leaning farther into the chair until it creaked loudly onto the bed it faced. He could hear the loud footsteps of what seemed to be two people and could only laugh at the comedic timing. They both came to a veering halt at the open room, two armored individuals with sweat practically flowing down their faces accompanied with heavy panting. Though they stared at the lone man in the designated room, he continued to speak to himself, as if they didn¡¯t exist to begin with. ¡°I wonder if you actually found something on her, Juste.¡± Ezekial said, with his gaze fixed above him. .................................. Juste took off his hood as what he assumed to be the last pair from the investigation team passed him by. He¡¯d been avoiding them for week by then, not because he feared their questions, but because he feared they would put an end to his plans if he told them the crucial piece of information he discovered mere days ago. The investigation team specialized in using Adenum ¨C what could be called a fancy name for ¡®truth serum¡¯¡ªand a set series of questions to acquire as much info as they could from suspects. They were trained to assume that the entire truth is never explained the first interrogation, and will ruthlessly question their suspects until they feel satisfied with their gatherings, which is almost never. If Juste were to let slip his newfound information to them, it¡¯s simplest to say he would have a slow, mundane hell to endure. Avoiding the team was surprisingly taxing, a thought instantly remedied by the crumpled slip of paper that hid in a small opening on his gauntlet. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. Days ago Juste met with an information broker, the only one that would meet with him actually. Fear ran through the districts at the sight of Retta survivors, along with the notion that death followed those same people like their very shadows. Yolans felt they, as the ¡®chosen people¡¯, shouldn¡¯t associate with those so hated by the demons, ignorant to the idea that their hatred stems from humans as a whole. Their unbearable attitude left a bad taste lingering in his mouth; He quickly lost the desire to try his luck with Yolan brokers, that is, until he met a man by the name of Ren Parker. A terrifying height of 7¡¯5¡± inches, he sported a rare pure blonde hair color with deep blue eyes. He wore a tattered military vest and brown pants, with black knee high boots to boot (no pun intended). Ren¡¯s signature stubble and dead eyes screamed ex-soldier, and ex-soldier he was. No, more than that, he was a survivor; not just a survivor of Retta, but of what he called ¡®The War Pillar¡¯s playtime¡¯. Hearing Juste¡¯s questions about the events of the invasion and potential kidnappers likely lit a long dead spark in the soldier, who was more than happy to share his story as a prisoner of war. ¡°During the invasion¡­¡± Ren started, setting down his third glass of rum bought by an elated Juste, ¡°I was forced to lead both my squad and squad 3, since their leader kicked the bucket, quick. We were doing well in fending off the demons, no matter how strong they are, a good formation¡¯s hard to beat¡­ that is, until he showed up.¡± Though his facial expression didn¡¯t so much as flinch, Juste could immediately see the waves of anger and fear that encompassed his body. ¡°I still remember that freakish smile of his when he spotted us. His body was massive, just as tall as me, with deep black marking that covered his left arm and neck. His horns told me he was a demon, but something about him felt so¡­ human. Oh, but that¡¯s not it, his underlings didn¡¯t so much as inch toward us, they only watched as their leader pointed his jagged fingernail at me.¡± ¡°¡¯Are you the leader?¡¯ he asked, his voice was so guttural, so malicious. I couldn¡¯t trust him if he cut his own limbs off for me and he said at most four words.¡± The glass shook softly in his hand, but it didn¡¯t stop him from continuing his story. ¡°Next thing I know, I wake up in what looks like an arena. I¡¯m told I was completely beat down before I had time to blink. And that demon, that beast that makes me shutter even now, was a Pillar.¡± ¡°Pillar!?¡± Juste bit down on his lip to keep his voice low, if word got out about a Pillar, it would send the entire kingdom into disarray. He could feel the hairs on his body jump up, as if they wanted to escape and never return. Demons didn¡¯t care for ranking like humans did, the farthest they went with it was giving titles to powerful demons, yet it did its job more than well. Pillars were the group of demons that stood at arms with the leader of demons itself, and the reason the mere name sent fear into even the most seasoned veterans. They were indestructible, to say the least, each one was capable of taking down a small army unscathed, and a large one with little more than a few injuries. Their power was no exaggeration by any means, each one was an incorrigible force of nature, and why they haven¡¯t rid the world of humans yet truthfully puzzled Juste. Ren scanned the area around the two, wary of loose ears that zoned in on them. ¡°He called himself Perseas, the Pillar of War and Combat, and his title wasn¡¯t for show. He made us fight to the death, one by one, and we had no choice but to comply¡­¡± His tone dropped like a stone, even without his elaboration, simply being alive and free spelled out what he did to get there. ¡°¡­until there were only five of us left. Then he joined the fray, we never stood a chance. Our haphazard formation was ruined and three were dead before you could fully say ¡®wait¡¯. By then I gave up, threw myself on the ground and accepted my death, but he didn¡¯t, he just¡­ let us go.¡± Ren and Juste looked at one another in silent agreement. There was no way a demon would let humans go without some motive; either the Pillar assumed Ren would die regardless, or he let them go because he was simply bored. Hearing about the War Pillar second-hand, Juste felt an inkling that both were viable. ¡°Well¡­ you know the rest.¡± He said, the glance he sent Juste irritated the young man somewhat, like he knew exactly what he was thinking, ¡°If you¡¯re planning on doing what I think you¡¯re going to do with this information, I won¡¯t stop you, but¡­¡± Ren took brush and lightly wrote on a sheet of paper, using his long arms to cover the paper from peeing eyes. He quickly folded the sheet and handed it to Juste. ¡°When you think you¡¯re ready, read it. I heard many things while there, and if they really went through with it, there¡¯s a single person I believe can kill a Pillar.¡± .................................. ¡°Kill a Pillar¡­¡± Juste thought as he stepped through the district gates. He felt bad for not telling Ezekiel where he was going, but knowing that the strong headed fool would follow him regardless turned him off to the idea. He pulled the paper out of his leather gauntlet when he was sure no one was near him; each part of the paper that unfolded dropped his stomach an extra layer. It read: A male, relatively small with jet black hair and eyes, likely has a curved blade in his possession. They¡¯re eastern, so they might not speak English, but trust me when I say they¡¯re the best chance you have at killing that demon. ¨CRen The note also contained a small map for the location of the arena, an addition that surprised Juste somewhat. Though his appearance was far from one, Juste failed to remember that Ren once was a captain of his own squadron. He slid the paper back in its place and gazed at the large world in front of him. Environments created through a force best considered magic meant one could spot a snow mountain in the distance over fields of lush trees. The admittedly pristine view of the land before him made it hard to believe that there was a Pillar mere miles from where he stood. ¡°D-damn¡­!¡± Juste¡¯s body shook, unable to cope with the fact that he was truly gearing up to fight a being capable of killing him with a thought. Fear wasn¡¯t even a good term to use for how he felt, it was more like his body was warning him from throwing his life away so easily. What if Ren was lying? What if this person never shows up? What if I die before I even get there? Maybe she wasn¡¯t even kidnapped by the War Pillar. The questions became an incomprehensible mesh in his head, but despite his worries, his body refused to go backwards. Instead of tears or a show of concern, a slight smile formed on his face, much to his surprise. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Trisha, your big brother¡¯s coming to save you.¡± Juste said to himself. The sun shone brightly over the deep forest as his feet once again carried him, through the trees until even his shadow disappeared. Chapter 1: Danger ¡°Ah! My venerable king, how doth thee fare? My deepest apologies for arriving with so little vigor, I was¡­ preoccupied with other matters! I hope thee won¡¯t mind.¡± The man spoke in a sprightly manner. His golden eyes turned upwards at the black-robed king and his guards that glared at the man like he were a bug. King Evan, the ruler of Yoland, gave the man a deathly glare in the grasp of his throne. ¡°Did you only come here to play me for a fool? What do you want, you devious hellion?¡± He said, though he gaze was focused on the man in front of him, his dominant tone easily put everyone in his presence on edge. Out of all the people he¡¯s, met, executed, and commanded, King Evan loathed the fact that it was the fool in front of him that could manage to speak with such discourtesy and escape with his head. ¡°Aw, you¡¯re no fun, you stickler~¡± The man responded, a jolly smile surfaced on his face, but the aura behind it was far from positive. ¡°Speak, Coe! What do you¡ª¡± The king was interrupted by the blood of one of his men, with his head high above his body. The lacerated head landed next to the king¡¯s feet, as if its trajectory was predetermined. The queen, Evan¡¯s first wife, let out a gasp that no one else could manage to utter. She was lucky, as a human that couldn¡¯t sense mana; anyone with even a slight aptitude for the ability could feel the man¡¯s ungodly aura the leaked out of his very person. It suffocated all but the Queen, brought the elite guards and even the two generals that oversaw the meeting to their knees, and forced the king into action all in the time it took a leaf to float to the ground. King Evan used every ounce of Ego¡ªthe human¡¯s source of mana-- he could muster to combat the oppressive aura Coe emitted, and even then, the amount was barely enough. Evan could feel it, his and that monster of a being¡¯s aura were perfectly equal, it was more than obvious that he was holding back. The thought angered the king, but the cautious man would rather his life than his pride. ¡°Refer to me as King Demios, Evan.¡± The Demon King Demios uttered, that sinister smile still plastered on his face. Though he had retracted his aura by then, the lingering Id¡ª or demon¡¯s power source-- in the air sent chills down their spines. ¡°Aren¡¯t kings to see eye to eye, Demios?¡± Evan retorted, despite the cold sweats rushing down his cheek he managed to keep a straight face. Demios laughed heartily after a moments pause, the cause unknown to anyone in the room. Evan had no clue why a man who claims to hate humans let them live and prosper for so long, though the fear of tiding the beast over kept him from asking such a question. More than that, he could never understand Demios; the evil king could go from ruthlessly tearing a kingdom to shreds to holding a literal fishing contest with random people he found near a lake, with no feasible reasoning to go behind them. Whether he laughed because he agreed with Evan¡¯s statement or found it utterly imprudent was entirely up to fate. General Retsu, the ex-leader of Retta and the one of few that could stomach Demio¡¯s oppressive aura, let out a sigh of relief as she checked the fallen soldier¡¯s vitals. Excluding the headless soldier that bled out near the gold-coated fire pit he stood by, the victims of the evil king¡¯s threat were little more than nauseous or shaken up. His message didn¡¯t go unnoticed, however; it was clear who held power in the conversation, the onlookers that wanted his head for speaking so brazenly to King Evan were likely regretting their ignorance. That, and Demios must really not like the name Coe. ¡°Sorry! Sorry! That just reminded me of Perseas, that¡¯s all!¡± Demios laughed, though his golden yellow eyes appeared much more¡­ minacious. ¡°According to him, equality only belongs to the mutually strong. Now tell me, Evan¡­¡± A dark aura began to surround the evil king, though it wasn¡¯t as domineering, not a soul dared underestimate it again. ¡°Are you my equal?¡± Evan let a slight smirk show, something rarely seen by anyone that worked for him, ¡°In raw power? Hell no, but we both know not even you would come out unscathed. Not against me, and certainly not against the Ryoshi.¡± Demios¡¯ grin seemed to stretch from ear to ear, ¡°Ah~ yes, yes, your brutally shrewd personality and that family¡¯s distinct hatred for demons makes for quite a nasty combination.¡± His eyes widened to a considerable degree at his own words, ¡°Good transition! Speaking of the Ryoshi family, I wanted to ask for information on the location of the Katharos. I would go myself, but Perseas needs a weapon for his next ¡®tournament¡¯ and Rose has yet to set up her own territory, so I must see myself out.¡± A black mist spiraled around the evil king, who gave King Evan an exaggerated bow as his jet black hair fell over his face. His gold permeated eyes shone brightly even under the long strands of his hair, with a smile that couldn¡¯t be differentiated from genuine or ominous. ¡°Farewell, little Evi! Ah, and your daughter says hi. She¡¯s such a sweetie.¡± The column of black mist covered Demios, who disappeared along with it in a matter of moments. When all sight of him was lost, Evan let his pent up anger out on the arms of his throne, crushing the dense steel material with ease. ¡°Retsu.¡± He called, the woman that had since been ensuring the condition of the guards after Demios¡¯ display of power swiftly moved from her spot near the throne room¡¯s support beams to the king¡¯s side. ¡°Yes, my lord?¡± She responded, being the only person in good shape, King Evan felt proud of the august woman ex-General Rain left behind. ¡°Tell the investigation squad to leave the matter of the missing Retta survivor for now and make preparations to travel to the East.¡± He answered with a wave of his hand, ¡°He¡¯s an ex-soldier, is he not? Wherever he is, he¡¯ll be fine so long as he doesn¡¯t run into a Pillar or powerful demon beast.¡± ¡°¡­Yes¡± Retsu complied. For the only man whom she could talk with normally to disappear without a trace hurt her, much more than she anticipated. He was known as the ¡®King of Sleep¡¯ back in their academy days, thanks to his carefree attitude towards his superiors and uncanny ability to sleep quite literally anywhere, but that made him all the better to talk to. Retsu never needed to worry about how she spoke with him around, he was like a free flowing river compared to the constricted lake that were the Yolans. It¡¯d been almost two years since they last spoke, with her position as General stripping what little free time she had left, but now, she couldn¡¯t meet with him even if she had the time. A single flick of her wrist send her listening subordinates away to find the Investigation Squad, as she left the king¡¯s side to let him clear his head. She could share his irate sentiment, it all felt unfair, somehow. Most other continents had exterminated demons from their land yet refused to help Elshia, who needed it most. Ammou¡ªthe continent in the South¡ªhad forsaken Ego practices for scientific advancements while the eastern continent Hant¨¡tochi excelled in demon extermination. Both saw Elshia as a nuisance and neglected their fellow continent, letting the demons run rampant as they wish. Retsu wanted nothing more than to remove such scum from the face of her land, but with each passing day, that goal felt farther and farther away. The somber general stepped out onto a veranda outside of the castle¡¯s upper hallway, staring up at the pure-white clouds that leisurely swam through the open blue sky. Her gaze fell from the sky to a vibrant garden filled with white flowers. Though she felt betrayed by the other continents¡¯ unwillingness to help, she found strange solstice in one brutally realistic fact. ¡°At the very least, once we go down, they will follow close behind.¡± She said, as the white covered garden became a smothering grey tone under the shadows that enveloped them. .............................. He was having it once again, a dream wherein he is surrounded by tall, unwavering flames, trapped by burned rubble and debris, laughed at by demons as they relish their victory in the death of their victims. His ears catch only the screams of others as the humanoid monsters tear them limb from limb, yet despite the smell of fear and death around him, he can¡¯t move; His knees remain planted deep within the debris, scarred by the broken glass and wood beneath him. ¡°Look at what you¡¯ve done¡­¡± The familiar voice says, his voice somehow resonates through the air, past the screams that fill it. The yellow eyed figure creeps towards him, showing a face of complete and utter indifference despite its accusatory words. ¡°Look at what you¡¯ve wrought.¡± It repeats, now close enough to touch his face. It¡¯s cold, long nailed fingers trail across his chin as the figure meets his eyes, with a show of slight confusion on its face. ¡°Who¡­ are you?¡± It asks, it¡¯s only now that he has the ability to respond to its question. ¡°I am¡­¡± He trails, losing consciousness the moment he attempts to answer. Not once had he been able to finish his response to the figure. ¡°No, that was a wrong question. Rather¡­¡± The all too vivid image of his burning home blurs within moments, so too does the figure¡¯s voice drone out. A deep void surrounds the young man, followed by a faint voice, different from the insouciant tone of the figure in his dream. It called out to the young man, but the strangely cordial feeling within it kept him from responding. However, the louder it became, the more it caught his attention, until it became clear what it was trying to say. ¡°Wake up!¡± A bucket of water rushed over the young man¡¯s face, dragging him from his deep slumber almost immediately. He stood up and brushed away the wet strands of hair over his face to see who exactly he needed to thank for waking him up; demons, and there were dozens, maybe even hundreds of them, all surrounded by a tall, arena-like structure. Each one had a weapon in their scaly, furry, ghastly hands, and stared at the young man and the other humans beside him with a clear distaste. Many of the humans, despite their blatantly open fear, appeared experienced by human standards. Their terror was warranted, being surrounded by so many demons, no matter what their rank, would be deadly for even an A-rank hunter. Though their hunter tags and equipment had been taken by the group, the young man was sure none of them were below C-rank. That alone helped drill into him just how bad the situation he put himself in was. Seeing them all helped jog his memory, from the moment when he first left Yoland to being found by them after taking down a group of demon beast that attempted to ambush him. Alongside it, he remembered his reason for putting himself in such a situation in the first place. ¡°The¡­ War Pillar, Perseas.¡± He said out loud, spotting the most distinct demon in the group. He was no shorter than 7¡¯5¡± with black markings that covered his entire body. Unlike the others, he appeared the most human, despite the dark red horns he sported. The freakishly tall demon had an infectious smile that fit his active demeanor well, with an unwavering gaze that seemed to hide nothing behind them. Truly, he fit the bill of the demon Ren explained in his story. ¡°That¡¯s right, you¡¯re the boy who willingly came to find me, aren¡¯t you?¡± Perseas responded, not a hint of malice or hate could be sensed from his words, it was more like genuine interest. ¡°¡­That I am.¡± The young man responded, everything he wanted to say seemed to slip between the cracks in the Pillar¡¯s presence. He hadn¡¯t so much as thought of a fight between him and Perseas, yet he could feel without a doubt that lasting more than 10 seconds would be a miracle in itself. The unrelenting wave of helplessness came pouring in much faster at his realization. Perseas seemed to sense the young man¡¯s struggle in finding his words, ¡°Was there a question you wished to ask of me, young human?¡± He questioned. His strangely friendly tone helped the young man better speak to him.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. ¡°Do you¡­ know of a young girl named Trisha?¡± He asked The Pillar¡¯s eyes widened a bit at his question, with a small chuckle leaving the edges of his mouth, ¡°That question¡­ do you know this person, young human?¡± He responded, his tone more guttural than before. ¡°Who is Trisha Deliand to you? Who are you?¡± He instinctively narrowed his gaze at the demon, the release of his Id made the young man¡¯s chest hurt. Not because of the oppressive aura, but because of his body¡¯s reaction to it, due to the ailment that had tortured him for most of his life. In spite of it all, he managed to answer the Pillar¡¯s question easily. ¡°I am Juste Deliand, and Trisha is my younger sister.¡± He answered, leading the demon to laugh heartily. ¡°A survivor of Retta? Good. I wanted to fight with those humans, but Demios took care of all the adults.¡± He responded, pointing towards his scarred left eye, ¡°I still remember my first fight with a team of them. Of course, I won, but they by no means went down easy. They substituted their lack of strength with numbers, formations, underhanded tactics and quick-witted plans that forced me to fight like my life depended on it. They were fantastic opponents, I pined for another match with them to pay them back for my eye; that¡¯s why, although I can heal this wound, I never will.¡± He retold that story as if they were his glory days, though Juste could see why. Powerful humans were dwindling at a rapid rate, to say the least. Though there were powerful figureheads in other continents, it was almost guaranteed they wouldn¡¯t help Elisha in their fight against the demons. For someone who lived to fight like Perseas, peace was a plague. ¡°It¡¯s good that I can fight with more Retta survivors, the little ones I fought during the invasion were hardly worth the effort.¡± Perseas said, immediately catching Juste¡¯s attention. ¡°¡­Little ones?¡± He asked, dreading the response the Pillar would give. ¡°Children.¡± He responded, his tone showed elation nor regret, but the smile that never seemed to fade from his face made the ex-soldier¡¯s anger skyrocket. The elevated bloodlust made Perseas respond in kind, sending a wave of Id that put everyone except a select few humans, Juste included, into the dirt. Aside from him, four others remained in their place. A tall, tan man with brown hair and a freakishly large hammer. Two women, one short with silver hair and purple eyes, one tall with whiter braided hair and lighter purple eyes. And a short boy, with jet black hair and similar eyes. His sheath was curved, with strange slim papers that covered parts of it. Just like Perseas, the young boy fit Ren¡¯s description almost perfectly. ¡°You want revenge, don¡¯t you?¡± Perseas asked, though he could more than tell the answer from Juste¡¯s face alone. The Pillar took a bag of weapons and threw them towards the young man, landing at his feet with a puff of dirt and a loud clang. ¡°Then fight your way to me, Juste Deliand.¡± A spark seemed to light up within Juste; not out of hatred or fear like he expected, no the two were very much still there, but out of hope, hope for a chance. He wanted answers, and the forthright demon would give them to him so long as he was kept entertained. Out of all the Pillars he could have entangled himself with, Perseas was a mix of the best and worst he could have gotten, though to what degree he was unsure. He glanced back at the group of humans captured with him, soon forced to fight tooth and nail for their own lives. Some looked past him in fear, others looked at him with indifference, but many glared at him with contempt. Juste could tell why, they felt betrayed that he so easily agreed to Perseas¡¯ demand to fight them. They were banking on the idea that he would reject the Pillar and rise against them, they were banking on him being their scapegoat. The emerald-eyed young man laughed at the very notion, turning his head towards the bag as if to outright reject their wishes. Juste searched the tattered bag for his weapon, the broadsword he made before leaving Yoland, distinguished by the faint green stone that sat on the end of its hilt. There were no noticeable nicks or signs of wear on the blade, but he could tell the demons didn¡¯t tote it around with much care. He threw the bag down and moved towards the open spot left by Perseas and the lesser demons; the bastards had removed his gauntlets and black vest while he was unconscious, but he didn¡¯t need them. He stood in the center of the makeshift fighting grounds, his gaze fixed on the group of people that remained silence behind him. There, he stood, with a blade in his hand and fire in his eyes as the demons pointed their spears and blades in a small circle. ¡°Everyone except for the black-eyed boy,¡± Juste called out, the boy in question didn¡¯t move an inch at his words, but he felt his gaze, ¡°Come here and fight me.¡± .............................. ¡°Damn, what would you like to know, missy?¡± The information broker laughed, counting the sizeable bag of gold he received from what was most likely a noble girl. ¡°For starters, what is this place?¡± The young miss questioned, her gaze turned upward to the stalactites that reflected the light from the countless lanterns almost beautifully. Despite her concern, almost nobody seemed to care for them as they went about their day, though who could tell what time it was? In the underground city she found herself in, the young woman had no earthly idea how it functioned under the nose of Yoland for so long. ¡°This, miss, is plainly called The Underground. Though it is for good reason.¡± He answered enthusiastically, ¡°Giving this place a suitable name would make it stand out, and that¡¯s the last thing we want down here. This ¡®ere is where all the lowlifes, crooks, slave traders, you name it; if it¡¯s illegal up there, you¡¯ll find it down here in spades.¡± He took a quick swig from the mug of rum he bought with his newfound riches, ¡°The lanterns here light up our small city, and are off limits to touch or break, just like children that aren¡¯t slaves, shop owners, and blacksmiths. We would include inn owners too, but it¡¯s become something of a tradition to fuck up the ones that come through ¡®ere and charge bullshit prices.¡± ¡°So you have rules here? I expected a lawless place for people like you.¡± The young woman answered with complete insouciance. She looked around to see the similar, rectangle-shaped houses, shops, and inns, but each and every one of them had something that made them stand out; from signs, to the height of the structures, and even small decorations like gilded window frames. The sole light source being lanterns made it difficult to see the entire city, but to say it was pretty would be an understatement. ¡°This underground world is for the people that refuse to barely scrape by under the noble scums¡¯ thumb, no offense.¡± He answered, though his drunk smile didn¡¯t change, the more serious tone in his voice was apparent. ¡°I¡¯d be careful with your words down here, lot¡¯s a¡¯ shit happens but you can get on everyone¡¯s bad side dissing the Underground. ¡°So it seems.¡± The woman pulled out a military dog tag, reading ¡®Sleep King¡¯ as well as a gold plated necklace. Both were in horrid condition, the tag with multiple burn marks and the necklace damn near broken. ¡°I want any information you have on a retired soldier named Juste Deliand, his current location especially. As for the necklace¡­¡± She gestured at the drunk broker to lean in, ¡°It belonged to a man named Anzu; do you have anything on him?¡± The broker leaned back in his chair, somewhat happy the young noble didn¡¯t ask anything about the Pillars. Ren had been telling his story left and right to any that would listen for the past few days, with the brokers keeping a third eye on him to ensure it didn¡¯t find its way above ground. What happened to Yoland didn¡¯t matter to most in the Underground, but their almost ensured distraught over such crucial information could affect trade routes, which is the lifeline of the Underground. ¡°I do, in fact.¡± The broker put his mug down and reached into his leather bag, filled to the brim with loose papers and a smaller pocket holding miscellaneous items and trinkets. He pulled out a small painting of a black haired, black eyed man with eastern clothing. He sported tall old-style sandals, with a chained ball-and-sickle wrapped onto his hip. The painting was made by the Moon family, a non-Hunter noble family with the shared trait of impeccable memory; any faces they so much as caught a glimpse of could be painted in the fashion of which they were last seen with scary accuracy. The young noble took the picture and scanned it, confirming the description of the eastern warrior fit what the painting displayed. ¡°This is Anzu, I don¡¯t know much about him, but I can tell you he¡¯s known as a ¡®samurai¡¯ in the east. They¡¯re honorable warriors that would quite literally rather slit their stomachs than dishonor their word. The remaining samurai are said to be battle-crazed fiends that live for war, but they rarely show up here in the west.¡± He continued, another painting was placed on the table, now showing a black haired emerald eyed young man. The hood on his black vest covered most of his face, but it was caught in a good enough angle that he could be seen. ¡°Last but not least, Juste Deliand. He¡¯s an ex-soldier of Retta, known as the ¡®Lord of the Pillows¡¯ or ¡®Sleep King¡¯ during his time in the academy. On a strict scoring system, he managed to make the minimum average score on all of his tests.¡± ¡°What?¡± The young noble was taken aback by what she heard. Retta¡¯s scoring system was known for being brutally difficult, not a single person in its history had ever completely failed or gotten a perfect score. Each test is scored by a different instructor to avoid bias or favoritism. What¡¯s more, the minimum average score is a 17, centered by the highest score, 35, and the lowest score, 1. Being able to make the same score in every given test was far too strange, even for someone known for his lazy attitude. ¡°Did he have any connections with any of the academy¡¯s officials?¡± She asked. The broker shook his head, ¡°None that we could find. The closest we could find was a platonic relationship between him and General Retsu, though she doesn¡¯t have any overpowering authority, even in the academy.¡± The young noble pondered for a good amount of time, before pulling out another bag of gold onto the table. The broker happily reached for his compensation, but the noble grabbed his hand the moment it came into contact with the purple bag. ¡°I want the most secretive information you have, on both of them. Give me that and the gold is yours.¡± She said, a tempting smile formed across her face as her light blue eyes stared at the conflicted broker for conformation. The broker let out a defeated sight, for such a pretty blonde noble, she was bound to be dangerous if he got on her bad side. Accepting too much gold was treacherous enough, but turning her down and throwing his life on the line seemed like the worse idea. ¡°¡­Which do you want first?¡± He asked, a tinge of resignation in his tone. His expression became one of concern, whereas the young noble only seemed to get more impatient the longer they spoke. ¡°Either works.¡± The young noble quickly answered. ¡°Then I¡¯ll start with Deliand: It¡¯s not confirmed yet, but it¡¯s inferred that he has that infection, Moon family spies have spotted what they considered black tattoo-like marks on his back and shoulders. If it¡¯s true, then the reason behind his scores become a bit easier to see.¡± He said, ¡°As for Anzu, I¡­¡± The broker paused for a minute, giving the young noble a look of genuine concern. Anyone with a brain in the Underground knew that if Don Zackery was giving away information, it would be nothing short of ground-breaking; that¡¯s just the kind of influence he had as an information broker. Nothing got past his ears and eyes, but with that skill comes danger, for both him and his clients. Death was an everyday thing for people down under, but something tugged at him as he spoke to this young noble, something that told him danger was lurking very close by. Letting her die in such a way was nothing short of murder to the broker. ¡°Miss¡­ this information don¡¯t come for free, and I¡¯m not just talking about money. There will likely be people after you the moment you leave, even if the information I gave you was bullshit¡ª.¡± ¡°Isn¡¯t it a little too late to be saying that now?¡± She answered, her patience seemed to run thinner with every response she gave. That same unsettling feeling seemed to creep up on Don once again, ¡°It¡¯s because we¡¯ve been speaking for so long that I¡¯m telling you this! Miss, try to consider¡ª¡° ¡°Zackery!¡± She called, her sudden commanding tone startled the broker considerably. Though he didn¡¯t answer her, his eyes told the young noble he was listening, ¡°Do you have the papers on Anzu and Juste?¡± She said, her voice was just as stern as her face was, as if she became an entirely different person. Blonde strands of hair fell over her face as her gaze turned to the brown bag sitting beside his chair, silently awaiting his response. ¡°Y-yes¡­¡± He eventually answered, the rising concern that welled up in his stomach wouldn¡¯t go away, no matter how much he attempted to hide it. The more she said, the more he realized that the concern he felt wasn¡¯t misplaced. His gut feeling was right, though he was wrong about one big thing: that concern he felt didn¡¯t arise for her¡­ ¡°Good.¡± She said, snapping her fingers. The two were on a higher floor in one of the Underground¡¯s popular pubs, which gave Don the privacy to give what information he had to his clients. With the pub so loud, it was almost impossible to hear anything he said from the lower floor, yet the moment she gave that impossible to hear signal, seven tall men from the lower floor immediately stood up and turned to her direction. One man appeared from behind Don as if he were there from the very beginning, his face was covered by a mask, but Don could feel the insane killing intent the man released without another soul taking notice. The masked man bowed to the young noble, ¡°Young master, your command?¡± His voice was strict, yet relaxed, as if those words had been said millions of times before. ¡°Find anyone you believe has so much as imagined what we¡¯ve talked about here, and kill them.¡± She commanded, her tone of indifference from before that returned in full force. Don watched as the man lowered his head and disappeared into thin air. He watched quietly as the first scream could be heard from the lower floor and blood somehow made it up to the perch they stood on. He watched the unwavering face she made as she watched it, her eyes not so much as blinking during the massacre. Don knew for sure that the concern he felt didn¡¯t appear for her¡­ It appeared because of her.