Chapter 100

From the Dregs (II)

Red eyes peered from the shadowy crevices of the ruined houses, following Cain closely. He never quite caught full figures, just silhouettes, the curious eyes scrutinizing the newcomer. He didn’t react to them, having already gotten used to much worse than this, but curiously continued to occasionally expand his Mana or use Perception to scout them out.

The way to the ‘Den’ as it was called was rather complex and nigh impossible to find either without having been there already or without a guide. Furthermore, few would dare actually venture there willy-nilly as he did. Most would first spend at least a week scouting out the route, perhaps even hiring extra few people, and trying to blend into the surrounding crowd as much as possible. Cain, on the other hand, stuck out like a cow in the herd of sheep.

There was merit, however, to his countenance; the sheer confidence, indifference, and frigidness he exuded kept the vast majority of souls here at bay. For those who've spent every second of their lives living on the edge, it became easy to distinguish between an ignorant fool and someone entirely unafraid. The man walking down the street... was the latter.

The light of the star orbiting the second floor never hit the lowest dregs of the City. The solitary source of illumination were the half-burned gems embedded in the rotting, wooden beams, or occasional torches hanging from the stoned ruins. Cain, however, only needed to charge Body into his eyes to see everything clearly, rather than kindling a fire and drawing attention to himself.

The building people referred to as ‘Den’ was one of the few that didn’t look as though ripped from a post-war world; though it would be a stretch to call it ‘nice’ by any metric, at the very least it did not have any easily discernible holes in its walls, it had functioning doors and windows and was internally well lit.

It reminded Cain of a mixture of oriental and far-east architecture, especially the lantern-like roof and the slanted, reddened tiles with lanterns hanging on the edges of the boards holding the upper floors -- three in total. Ante-Humans were the highest in number, through other humanoid races could be seen, both within and without -- everything from very short Arrens, a fairly queer rat-like race, to tall, lean, eyeless Rypers whose sporting feature was the hunchback look that they were not born with but, rather, developed over the course of their lives as they would always have to bend and hunch when entering places since even the shortest of them were at least eight feet tall.

Cain came to a halt in front of the den as dozens of pairs of eyes gleaned at him, curiously inspecting him. Most of these creatures hanging around the Den were long-stayers -- the souls who've at least spent a couple of years here, in the lowest dregs and saw no hope of climbing much further. The Den offered booze for cheap and was a gathering place for the like-minded.

Cain ignored the scrutinizing looks and began whistling, hands in pockets, as he casually strolled past the bunched group near the entrance. The interior of the Den was reminiscent of a pub, though with a slightly higher ceiling, no counter, and quite a few bloodstains scattered across the floor, most years old. The most macabre feature was the spiked heads on the wall -- six of them -- all belonging to either the Initiate Strata's traitors or some rich, pompous folk who descended from the higher up in the city and were killed here.

Though there was no counter, there was a platform manned by the few who maintained the Den -- four of them, to be more precise. Two ante-Humans, one Wyrrkin -- supposed descendants of the ‘Dragons’ sporting scaled skin, lizard-like eyes and no mouth -- and one Tesha, or a Dwarf as most humans would come to call them. Short, stout, bearded -- with the extra punch of a single nostril, two holes in cheeks through which they breathed, and egg-shaped scalps.

To their surprise, however, Cain’s reaction to their appearance was non-existent as he casually strolled up, tossed a single sword onto the platform, C-ranked, and extended his palm.

“A single yipper.” Cain said.

“One sword is not--”

“One. Yipper.” Cain interrupted coldly as he narrowed his eyes.

“... one yipper coming up.” the dwarf-like creature replied as he picked up the sword and took it into the back.

“How much for the general rundown?” Cain asked one of the ante-Humans, a woman he supposed. She sported short, spiked, cyan-colored hair and a pair of glistening silver eyes that stared at him with a tinge of curiosity.

“Three.” the woman replied, raising three fingers.

“...” They’re still looking down on me? Funny. He grinned briefly as he took out the cheapest item in his inventory -- an E-ranked bracelet that increased Vitality by 1 and tossed it in front of the woman. “I don’t fancy being looked down upon. That is your punishment.”

“Hm?” the woman frowned, her gaze turning cold.

“Either you take that bracelet and answer my inquiry,” he said, smiling widely. “Or I’ll chop your fucking head off right here and now and use it like a ball.”

His words cooled the atmosphere as quite a few more eyes came to rest on him, most from the surrounding tables. Some appeared angry, a few interested, and some looked at him mockingly. Some, yet, stood up and came toward him, circling him.

“New pups always are like this,” the woman said, bending over and picking up the bracelet, fiddling around with it. “Unfortunately, we are not the understanding kind.”

"..." Cain shrugged and sighed, charging Earth and Aether into his right foot, stumping it abruptly into the floor. Less than a breath later, eight spikes shot out and stabbed the eight creatures that had surrounded him straight through their abdomens, lurching them in there as they bled out, their gazes muddied and confused. Before anyone, however, could process it, Cain charged Creation and Wind, summoning an invisible hand and wrapping it around the woman's throat, dragging it to him and letting her 'rest' right in front of his eyes, still afloat, as she grasped at her throat, growing blue-faced as terror sank into her gaze.

“Y-y-y--”

"Is anyone interested in buying her life?" Cain spoke casually, looking around at those still seated. Quite a few chuckled and looked away, growing disinterested. After waiting for a few moments and noting that nobody was answering, he was just about to finish the woman off when a voice spoke out.

“I’ll buy her off.” the voice was strangely playful, dragging Cain’s attention to the side where he saw a fairly tall and lean man walking up. Oh? An Elf? The creatures like the man weren’t actually elves -- their race was called Eyrones, and the sole thing they had with the common image of an elf were the pointy ears and the height. Other than that, they were closer in nature to the traditional idea of a vampire rather than an elf. The man that walked up sported moon-dyed hair and a pair of starkly-crimson eyes, draped in a slick, silk-woven coat.

“... a single drop.” Cain lifted his index finger and said after looking the man up and down.

“Oh? A newcomer knows about it?” the man chuckled. “Man to man, do you truly believe that creature is worth even a single drop?”

“The deal includes my friendship.” Cain added, smiling.

“...” the man smiled back after a moment, suddenly bringing his thumb up to his lips and biting into it, extracting a single drop of blood and putting it into a vial he procured from seemingly nowhere, floating it over toward Cain. The latter casually tossed the woman at the man as he accepted the vial, hiding his inner giddiness with a stern expression. “Care to join me in the private?” the man asked after casually catching the woman and putting her down next to him. She immediately fell to her knees and lowered her head, silent.

“...” Cain looked at the man dubiously for a moment. For all intents and purposes, he’d just been invited over for a round of sex -- yet, of nearly forty souls sitting around, nobody reacted. “I’m afraid my bum is worth more than the entire capacity of your veins.”

“Shame.” the man chuckled. “Let’s talk over a meal, then. I believe I’ve just secured myself a fine dinner.”

"Lead the way." Cain said, putting the vial into his inventory and following after the lean man. The woman shuddered at the mention of the 'fine dinner' but didn't say anything. In the end, even life as a 'blood bank' was better than no life at all.

The man led him to the upper floor and into one of the private rooms; the moment the three entered and the doors were shut, the noise and chatter from downstairs vanished. The room was fairly broad, expanding further when the doors closed due to the very, very intricate formation in its floor -- one that even twenty-five years into the future humans weren’t able to decipher and replicate outside the Towers.

It sported several fine, hand-crafted tables and cushioned chairs, a pair of basins hanging out the wall, spewing water endlessly from the dragon-shaped faucet, several foot-baths, stone-edged rings in the floor with meek water that self-cleaned, and a balcony with a fairly decent view out the city itself and onto the lake down below. The night had fallen, Cain realized, even on the outside, and the scenery was truly dreamy.

“I took the liberty and ordered us a course already,” the man said as he sat down, the woman standing by him. “I have been told to have a keen eye for what others might enjoy. Do you trust me?”

“Not in the slightest,” Cain replied, sitting down as well.

“Ha ha ha. You’re quite amusing. Are all members of the new Trial-takers like you? If so, this might be the funnest round I’ve had in a while.”

“No,” Cain shook his head. “Most would be so infatuated by you that they would have accepted your prior invitation in a heartbeat.”

“You make it sound like a bad thing.” the man said, smiling.

“... I like ‘em, still,” Cain said after a brief pause. “I don’t mind the play, but I hope you’ll accept a proposal I have for you.”

“Oh? Do speak, please.”

“Let me be your exclusive supplier.”

“... I’m afraid I can’t accept that, no matter how much I like you,” the man shook his head. “Though it’s clear you didn’t come in here blind, you still know little, I’m afraid. If it were just me, I’d humor you for our friendship -- but it isn’t.”

“... ah, thought so,” Cain sighed helplessly. “Oh well. Can I at least get the benefit of protection for a few?”

"Of course. That's what friends are for, no? It is a bit strange, though, that I know not even the name of my newly acquired friend."

“Cain.”

“Cain, huh? It’s a pleasure. I am Yal’sha.” E-eh? You’re kidding?!! This playboy is the Yal’sha??

“Is that name common?” Cain asked.

“Not in the slightest, ha ha ha,” the man laughed freely for a moment. “My patrons were quite queer; in our native tongue, Yal means ‘chick’ and ‘sha’ means ‘fence’. Tell me -- would your race make that name common?”

“... you’d be surprised.” Cain smiled momentarily, trying to cover up yet another bout of giddiness. Not only did he got himself a drop of Eyrone Blood, but also encountered the future Duke of Blood Rite. I can pair the drop with the leaf... it’d still be a shame to use it on just seven people. Even if I include Rick, I’d still like to have at least 10 people before. Besides, using them raw is a waste... I’ll need a Herbalist or something to get the most out of the items. “I’ve decided to call you Yal.”

“...” the corner’s of man’s lips twitched momentarily. “I’d rather you--”

“Chicks are very respected where I come from,” Cain said.

“... they are?”

“Yes. Well, not the animals -- we breed them like cattle ‘cause we really like nuggets and such,” Cain added. “But the other kind of chicks... yeah, respect is through the roof.”

“... I believe the play on the words is escaping me.” Yal’sha commented when he noticed that Cain was barely containing his laughter.

“Pf--khm, khm, yeah. Don’t worry about it. Anyway, I really could use that general rundown I asked for before -- as a friend, I’m positive you won’t say no... no?”