“Right!” shouts Canta, ducking to the side. A metal foot flies over his head, leading up to a dry crack which rings out through the air, as the skeleton is shattered into a thousand pieces. All of those bits fly across the landscape, smashing into the many rocks that surround them on all sides. After a few days of smelling nothing but the virtue in the air that he could never find, Canta was driven to the edge of his wits, saying that it was time for them to go. Now, several days after that, they have arrived in some rocky waste which is absolutely littered with reanimated skeletons.

They’re weak creatures, but the problem is that Canta can’t really do much against them except to let them stab him, which he is trying very much to avoid. So instead, he relies on Alleluia to handle the situation as he does his best to keep the monsters busy.

A metal hand grabs him, pulling him out of the way, just as a large axe smashes down where he was just about to dodge towards. A second later, the rusty axe as well as its wielder are both broken in half by the metal fist, flying through them.

Alleluia shakes her hand out. “I can’t believe you’re making someone of my status work in these conditions.”

“Dirty hands, remember?” asks Canta as she lets him go. She laughs.

The amount of skeletons in this place was beyond what Canta would consider a normal amount of skeletons. Though, that number is usually around less than one to begin with, in ideal situations. He bends down, digging through the piles of now double-dead skeleton-dust for any coins. He still hasn’t figured out where exactly they’re keeping them. He never sees them have any coins on them while they’re ‘alive’. But as soon as they disintegrate, sure enough, there are some coins, hidden away in the dust.

(Canta) found: [{5} Obols] !

He moves over to the other set of remains, stepping over the broken handle of the axe.

(Canta) found: [{7} Obols] !

“Nice,” he says, jangling the coins in his hand. “We’re making a real living doing this.”

Alleluia nods, turning around for him to wind up her crank and to deposit the coins. “But we have nothing to spend it on,” she sighs.

“We’ll find a city with real, not evil, living people in it eventually,” he says, looking around. “The world has really gone to shit, you know?”

“Has it?” she asks, as he fumbles around with her back. “I wouldn’t know.”

Canta pats her, gesturing for her to get back up. “Yeah, back when I was alive for the first time, all of these cities had real, living people in them and uh…” he looks around. “There were less skeletons. On the surface, at least.” He looks at her. “You would have really liked it.”

“I like it now too,” she smiles at him.

Canta rolls his eyes, turning around to keep walking. “You would have liked it more.”

“What do you think happened?” asks Alleluia, her voice chiming over the winding drone of the quiet mechanisms in her body.

“Demon-king,” replies Canta, plain as day.

“Demon-king?” she asks.

“Demon-king,” he reaffirms. “I have no idea what his problem is, but the world was for sure a nicer place before he showed up. What a dick.”

The two of them walk together for a while. “Do you think it will be nicer again, when he’s gone?” she asks. Canta thinks for a moment, before nodding in affirmation.

“Sounds reasonable to me.”

“Hmm…”

The two of them walk for days through the stony wasteland. In truth, Canta has no idea where they are anymore, having long since lost any sense of his bearings. The wastes stretch on for ages, without so much as a piece of grass to nibble on. Not long after that, after trying his best to gnaw on any of the dry, nutrition-less skeleton bones, he finds himself gnawing on Alleluia’s metal hand, having lost himself to a rabid hunger over which he has no control.

Alleluia takes this in stride, simply allowing him to do so, even if he does break his teeth a few times.

Eventually, night falls again, just shortly before they reach the edge of a grass-land. Canta breaks free from her tight grasp and before she can stop him, he runs off, digging his head into a hole and eating a very surprised and terrified rabbit.

Rabbit ~100g Calories: 173 *Protein: 33 g Fat: 3,5 g Carbs: 0 g Fiber: 0 g Sugars: 0 g

He doesn’t really notice any of Alleluia’s words as she catches up to him, scolding him for not only running away, but also for eating something cute. His face and body are covered in rabbit blood, but he doesn’t mind, as he stares up to the stars above with a deep feeling of satisfaction present inside of him. Alleluia looms over him, glaring down his way as he lays next to the destroyed burrow.

His eyes wander away from the bright stars, towards the too-clean and perfect face hanging over his.

“You’re really pretty, you know?” he asks, his face covered in gore and viscera.

“Hmpf!” she crosses her arms. “As if that’s going to help now.”

Canta shrugs, his shoulder blades running over the grass beneath him. “It was worth a shot.”

“Shut up,” she says, sitting down next to him as both of them stare up at the night-sky. Tonight, there are no shooting stars to be seen.

The next day comes and by the time the mid-day sun rises high into the air, the two of them find a road and follow it. Eventually, this road that they travel on, entirely unaccompanied by any other passersby, leads to a city.

Canta and Alleluia stand there in the distance, looking out ahead of themselves at the city. So far, civilization has brought them nothing but bad luck. First the town with Nina, then the city with the church, then Paw’s village.

“What do you think?” asks Canta. The idea of heading into a real city is tempting for him, even from out here, he can see signs of life. Lights in the windows, silhouettes moving in the far distance. It could offer real food, real drinks, a real bed.

But it could just be another trap, set by the demon-king. It feels like his influence is endless, like his fingers had already clawed their way into everything in this entire world.

“I’d really like to see it,” says Alleluia. “But what if it’s dangerous?”

“Can’t be any less dangerous than living outdoors forever,” says Canta. “We’re really lucky that it hasn’t rained once yet,” he explains. “Besides, we need to get you cleaned up.”

“Me?” she asks, almost offended. “Look at you!”

Canta waves her off. “My body will work fine with some muck and dirt on it,” he says, grabbing her hand and pulling her along. “I’m not some delicate, clock-work princess.”

“It’s about time that you finally learned how to treat me!” she explains.

“Please,” says Canta, sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “So, what do you think?” he asks, as they approach the city gates.

“Maybe they’re all evil cultists who sacrifice newborns to the demon-king?” she suggests.

Canta nods, holding this for plausible. “Or maybe they’re all horrible lizard-people, who are only wearing human skins to lure us into a false sense of security?”

Alleluia thinks for a second, before agreeing with him as they approach the perfectly normal walls of the perfectly normal city. Canta rubs his head, looking around. There are no guards, the gate is just wide open. Already the first thing to be paranoid about.

The two of them exchange a look, before stepping through the great shadow cast by the gate, as the heavy moonlight drapes itself over the stone frame; the rays of soft glow fall, much like the rushing torrent of a waterfall. It is close to being late at night, but the city is still more than lively. Alleluia grips his hand as she looks at the many people walking around in all directions. Humans, elves of different types, an orc or two. All of them, clad in bright and boisterous adventuring outfits, run around in all directions, filling the city with a bustling nightlife.

The two of them stand there in the gate for a moment and watch, both with a different kind of confusion in their eyes. Canta remembers this sight, it is the sight of a city of adventurers. This, this is what life used to look like, back when he was alive for the first time. It’s not like with the big-tree city, where the streets were filled with common lay-people or some soldiers. No, there might be one or two of those here, but most of the crowd are, what he would classify as, adventurers.

Bewildered, Canta steps inside, dragging Alleluia in after himself as the two of them move through the bustling night-market. Colorful paper lanterns hang all around them, adorning every merchant’s stall. Their colorful firelight glows wash over every set of armor, every pointed hat, every sword, staff, bag and pair of muddy, worn boots, as well as every nugget of food, drink and hand that holds and such things.

This is what Canta wishes his new life would have involved. Adventuring was such a fun way to live.

Too bad that there is only a tiny, light smell of sin in the air here though.