Brand's stride was measured, slow without too much confidence as to not invite challenge or attention. He might as well not have bothered. With his dark features, every head turned in his direction. Those unfamiliar with him starred openly having never seen a Jabari before. His dark skin, curly hair, and towering height were nothing like the pale-faced people around him.

He was used to being different, to being a target for the hateful and curious alike. The constant threats left him with an awareness, always looking always listening and something else, a sight without sight that saved his life many times now.

Only recently did he realized it was a trickle of mana leaving his body. Too little to see but enough to give a vivid picture of the world and its dangers.

A few more minutes of walking and it was Brand's turn to stare. He’d made it to Pleasure Street and the merchandise on display was as lovely as ever.

Powdered faces and exposed flesh covered the rose-colored street in a feast for the eyes. The scantily clothed women were always comely enough to turn a few heads, but their posing and subjective glancing forced a plush to Brand’s face whenever he looked their way.

He would have happily spent the coin to have one for a night. Their heavy breath and honeyed words would all be fake, but it would be the right kind of deception.

Those kinds of lies wouldn't work on him anymore, but he could pretend if it meant enjoying a simple lie. That was probably why Brand never called on a god’s name.

He'd yet to see one of the Aesir apparel to turn a man’s luck or save anyone of danger. Even Vara, who fancied herself a patron of children, wouldn't save a bleeding child crying her name. Their protection was all a pretty lie, one Brand couldn't be bothered with.

Regardless of how he felt, spending some coin for a lusty night wasn't an option. Brand was thoroughly shunned by every woman working the streets. He couldn't blame them, well, not all of them. There was only one woman responsible for the violence that led to his current standing, and like clockwork, her taunting voice came from several feet above his head.

“Hey there Brandy!”

The woman was nearly 30 feet off the ground resting lazily on a balcony built into a wall reaching far above and into the distance. The structure, Mur, it was called was massive, with a peek closer to the clouds than the earth, separated the Null Road from the rest of Vellia. Owning a business this close to the wall was the only way of getting any kind of noble patronage. This woman in particular only serviced nobility thanks to her truly unique beauty. No one else had exotic dark skin that glistened in the faint moonlight, no other but Brand.

“I know you can hearrrrrr me, Braaaaandy!” she bellowed.

“Shea,” Brand grumbled, screwing up his face as if smelling something foul.

He held a special kind of hatred for Shea. She could have stabbed him, robbed him, and she actually had spread his annoying nickname around, but none of that was enough to fuel his ire. Her betrayal wasn't even at the forefront of his mind. It was the reminder of his past weaknesses and stupidity that had his heart pounding in his ear.

She looked just like him, both sharing dark skin, curly hair, and golden eyes. The only thing strikingly different between the two was Brand's. Any taller and he'd be a jötunn, not that many didn’t think him one already with his staggering six feet. But Shea was the same as him same as him in every way that mattered to his younger self.

Seeing her for the first time was like a hammer to the chest with a wave of excitement that left Brand's younger self stumbling. Shea, was without a doubt, the only other Jabari in Vellia and probably the only one on the continent. It was only natural that Brand was desperate to know her, and soon, he honestly believed she was his mother, so of course he trusted her.

Looking back, the lie should have been obvious. Shea was far too young, but at the time, Brand never thought of such details and she never refuted them, slipping into the role with ease.

Sadly, Shea's act came to an end.

She'd brought Brand before a man, her employer he realized days later, to be sampled like a fine dish before being served.

Brand couldn’t remember much of what happened next, but there was blood and broken bones, teeth and screaming. So much screaming, and more in the nights to come.

Whores and men died that night in a blur but Shea escaped and so did Brand, bloodied, angry and weak. Whether he found more Jabari or his actual parents, it did not matter. He would never let sentiments control his actions again, but Shea would still pay what was owed, one day.

“Still can't let things go, Brandy,” Shea continued.

The smug bitch still taunted him, daring him to action. Most nights, he’d just keep walking, but something felt especially about storming Shea's brothel and finally making it past the guards instead of ignoring her.

Turning towards Shea to do just that, Brand felt something he could not see disturbed the mana around him. He jumped back immediately, right before an old acquaintance of his appeared from thin air.

“Damn it Eggil, stop doing that!” Brand shouted in a surprised breath.

“Your face!” Eggil laughed. “Your fucking face! It's worth it every time Brand, I swear. You get all, oh no, someone's trying to kill meeeee!”

Brand snarl only for Eggil to ignore it and drape an arm around his back. With a push he couldn't hope to resist, Eggil steered him away from Pleasure Street and back onto the path he was originally taking.

“Don't let that woman get to you,” Eggil said. “You were about to do something really stupid there. Brothel guards are some of the best sell swords around.”

Even knowing Eggil was right, Brand was not in the mood to admit it. “Whatever, just stop popping out of nowhere. One day you may not enjoy my reaction so much.”

“Why even worry?” Eggil countered. “I’m the only one you know that can go invisible.”

“Maybe for now,” Brand said, as they finally left Pleasure Street walking into a shadier part of Mur's outer limits. “Someone can be born with your focus at any time. There’s always a chance the next time I feel an invisible presence it’s some highwayman looking to stick me.”

“You're fucking paranoid kid.”

Eggil was a strange one. He was old but spry like a man in his youth. He used his focus for nothing more than petty theft, practically spitting in the face of the many slum lord ruling the Nulls. In fact, Brand was beginning to worry over the many people eyeing him as they walked.

“Shouldn't you be making yourself scarce seeing how we're in Rat King territory?” Brand warned.

The Rat Kings were one of the many gangs that ruled outside of Mur. They weren't that bad compared to most. Sure, they would make you pay to not get your home or business destroyed by them. They also forced a tax on walking their streets under threat of death, making Brand keep at least some coin on himself at all times. But they also killed any troublemakers, making them a kind of law enforcement. That, along with not stealing men and women off the streets to be sacrificed to Hel, the goddess of death, made them the best of the worst in Brand's eyes. If not for the unending war with the other gangs, he would have probably joined them long ago.

“I’m never scared on these streets!” Eggil declared, making sure to be as loud as possible to attract attention a sane man would be trying to avoid. “And the King Rat is too much of a cowardly little cunt to do shit about me anyway!”

Right as Eggil finished his proclamation, a lance of blue energy launched from a wand being held by a Rat King member. The blast landed with a bang, creating a deafening boom on impact.

Brand dove out of the way before he was pelted with dirt and stone. This happened almost every time Eggil showed himself. Someone he'd pissed off would try to kill him, and Brand would be caught up in the attempt. And just like every other time, Eggil vanished before being harmed in any way.

“All this over me just scaring your boss in her bathhouse,” Eggil said to the gangsters scanning the area for him. His voice sounded like it came from every direction, making finding the trickster impossible.

Several moments later, the Rat Kings abandoned their search, setting their sights instead on Brand. One stepped up to him, pointing a carved stick in his face. A wand no doubt with more than enough magic within to pop his head like over- ripe fruit.

Brand held his hands up, showing two coppers between his fingers. “I don’t want any trouble.”

Instead of taking the money, the wand holder asked Brand a question, his anger from Eggils taunting still burning bright. “You know that freak?”

“Everyone knows Eggs. He’s probably on a first-name basis with everyone here and their mothers,” Brand said holding his hand out in a gesture to give his street tax.

“He’s got a point,” said someone in the crowd. "That fucker knows my mum."

Lowering the wand, the man took the coppers and moved on. Brand followed suit making his way out of Rat King territory and kept his peace for almost half an hour until danger found him again.

“Hey!”

“Fucking hells,” Brand cursed when a man several passes ahead started calling for him. From the sound of his voice, he knew it would end in violence.

The man was big, just under Brand's own six feet, but he had a round body his brutish face. By the size of his arms, he was strong, but Brand would kill him. People were watching and they'd be giving no reason to think him weak.

“You mud-skinned bastard, I’m talking to you!” The man was now five passes from Brand, glaring at him with an angry look in his eyes.

Unbeknownst to the man, Brand was playing a fight out in his head, thinking of the best way to move, where to strike, and how to react if his first attacks failed.

Shattering his knee with a swift kick would come first. The man would scream as he fell, maybe or not. Maybe his bone wouldn't shatter robbing Brand of the chance to crush his skull with a well-placed stomp. The man could instead throw a punch or grab a hold of him. Brand smiled at that thought. One of the knives in his pockets would sing as he sliced away fingers or went for his eyes.

The man quickly reached for Brand’s arm, trying and failing to catch him unaware. Right before Brand made his first move, a hand smacked the back of the man’s head. With an “oomph,” the man turned around, breathing furiously, but quickly calmed after recognizing who had struck him.

“Walt, what the fuck are you doing missing street rats again? I don't want to see that shit around here.”

Walt, the man that had been accosting Brand, stuttered. He was obviously scared, not wanting to admit to doing what he had been told not to just days before.

“Ww-what’s your problem Hoder, that ain't no boy. I was about to offer him a round in the pits.” Walt was no expert liar. The falsehood of his words was plastered on his face.

Hoder looked away from Walt, fixing his gaze on Brand. “He’s new. Won't be messing with you again. But keep in mind, that if you bloody my men, there will be hell to pay.”

Walt visibly paled as understanding dawned on him. Brand smile at the retreating man twirling the knife meant for his eyes in his hand.

Hoder didn't care about the display. He was the owner of the pits and knew many such men fighting in his ring every month. He wore a brightly colored robe with large rings adorned each finger, stopping him from ever making a fist; a testament to his wealth and a poor attempt to look ennobled. Worst was the man's smell. A dozen different perfumes permeated off his body, creating an odor that made Brand want to gag if he got too close.

Despite the displeasure of being around the man, Brand needed him. Fighting in the pit could earn a man a hefty sum if he survived. There was simply nowhere else for an orphan to make that kind of money, so Brand was forced to tolerate the man's insulting smell once a month.

Brand met Hoder’s eyes placing the knife back in his trousers. “You know, if you convince them not to fuck with me, I wouldn't need to fuck them back.”

There was a pregnant pause between the two before Hoder finally decided to let it go. “Alright Boy, just head inside and get ready. I've got better things to do than chat it up with the likes of you.”

Brand hesitated to leave for the pits right away. He wanted to see who the noble guest would be. Depending on who showed up, tonight his payment and the way in which he earned it would change.

The richer the audience, the larger his pay, but whether he won or lost was completely up to Hoder. Brand didn't know which nobles Hoder needed him to win or lose for, but hopefully, he'd find a pattern and a way to exploit such knowledge.

Brand followed Hodor and his entourage until they came upon two figures dressed in red leaving a gate into Vellia proper. By their brightly colored clothing and general cleanliness, they could only be nobles.

One was a boy maybe a few years older than Brand. He stood a head shorter than the orphan and was complemented by a muscular frame. Unlike most of the city's people, this noble had sand-colored skin with dark eyes sporting a beard that had not quite grown in yet.

The second noble was a girl, maybe fourteen, and was obviously the other noble’s sister because their faces were almost identical. Her face, like her brother’s, was sand-colored with soft red and black paint around her eyes.

She clung to her brother’s side, looking around with fear as if to even step into this part of the city was to invite an attack upon oneself.

“She may have the right idea.”

Truly, all nobles were mages with magic that could tear the land asunder. even though with abundant mana know as cultivator were at the very pinnacle of mortal strength. Brand once saw a cultivator noble explode someone’s head just by flicking it with a finger.

But they could die. Every could die, like that same noble felled by a knife to in the back delivered by a vengeful woman after seeing her lover killed right in front of her.

Killing a noble was not easy and had to be done in one fell swoop or you were sure to die, but it could be done, if rarely. The garment, jewelry, weapons, and even the body of a noble could be sold for more money than most living on Vellia’s edges could comprehend. Surviving the attempt was the only problem, but for many desperate or foolish people, it was worth it to try.

“Welcome to Vellia,” Hoder said to the two nobles, bowing deeply. He almost didn’t look a fool, almost.

The noble girl talked to her brother in a language Brand had never heard. The words came fast with short syllables in a frantic tone, telling all lessening she was asking her brother to leave. He chastised her in response, using the same tongue. Brand could not comprehend a word but understood the ‘Shut the hells up’ tone in his voice.

Turning to Hoder after silencing his sister, the young nobleman spoke in a harsh tone. His meager mastery of Vellia's language clearly evident “I've been told, um, this is where one goes to, see a real battle.” He looked around as if searching for something, then turned back to Hoder, this time waving his hands addressing the group in a disappointing tone. “Sadly, I see no fighting men here standing amongst you.”

Several of Hoder's men and the noble girl grew a scowl on their faces after hearing such arrogant words. To any kind of magic user, they would be as children fighting giants, but men would still find offence regardless.

Brand didn't appreciate the comment but kept his face neutral. If this noble was without magic like him, he might give challenged, but he didn't so why bother getting upset. The memory of brain chunks flying about made any noble’s insult slide off him like the wind.

Hoder simply laughed at the barbed comments. “Hahaha, Lord Rohaan, there may not be any that can compare to your might, but this is the best place for blood in the city. No rules, no pageantry, just the blood you're looking for without end.”

Rohaan sighed as if bored. “I guess we shall see. Take me to your-” He paused trying to find the right words in a tongue he was weak in. “Place of fighting,” he finally said after some time.

“Indeed,” Hoder agreed, still wearing his hostess smile.

As Hoder escorted the group to the pits, he spotted Brand and smiled. “This is one of our fighters right here!” he exclaimed like a merchant boastful trying to sell his wares. “He is of the mysterious Jabari, thrice as strong and twice as large of any his age. His savagery is well-known, and I can guarantee a hell of a show.”

Brand was used to such aggrandizement of his abilities. It was done to make the noble guest and commoner crowd riled up to see his fights. If he was seen as a titan among men or a wild beast brought to the ring ripping his challengers to pieces, many would bet on him only to lose money when some Vellian born hero defeated him one or two rounds from first place.

“So, I'm fucking loosing tonight.”

Resigned to his fate, Brand took a sloppy bow as the nobles looked his way the nobleman spoke.

“I’ve never seen golden eyes or such... nightly skin,” Rohaan said, looking Brand over like a prized horse.

“Well, I've never seen skin like yours either?” Brand said.

“Are you human?” asked the noble girl before her brother could answer.

That did cause Brand’s casual expression to break. An angry look blossomed across his dark features as his heart filled with rage.

He knew the question itself did make sense. There were no other Jabari in the city of thousands that Brand ever saw other than Shea. Most in the city were human, but there were a smaller number of beast kin and fey kin living with them. None were nobles, but they could stay within their shanty towns without being enslaved, unlike in Gridania but none were allowed to learn magic.

“Yeah,” Brand said, drawing out the word through gritted teeth.

“Are you sure?” the girl said, completely missing his building anger.

“I think he’s a jötunn,” Rohaan said and looked at Hoder. “He’s a jötunn right?”

“I’m not a fucking jötunn,” Brand said his voice rising. His anger only grew as the discussion continued without as if he’d said nothing.

“A drow then?” the noble girl added like his race was a guessing game. “But his skin isn't shadowy, more like dirt or bark?”

“Maybe he’s a jötunn child,” Hoder said joining in.

Brand was now fuming. He was having a hard time keeping himself from shaking and worse, wasn't entirely sure they were wrong. If not for Magna, he probably would think he was a jötunn. She was the only one that knew of his kind. Even Shea hadn't known what to call herself until Brand told her.

There was always the chance he was some exotic race that wasn't native to Midgard, that Magna had lied to spare his feelings. But all of Brand’s doubts were forgotten as the noble girl’s hand reached up and gently caressed his head.

“I like your hair,” she said to him, wonder in her voice while rolling his tentacle-like locks of hair through her small fingers.

Despite his dark features, a blush appeared across Brand’s face. When the girl came closer he froze finding it hard to think about anything but her flowered scent and smiling lips that were far too close. When their eyes met, his face grew warm and felt his heart slamming away in his chest.

The contact ended abruptly when Rohaan grabbed his sister pulling her away from Brand.

“Mina,” he chastised followed by a sentence in their native tongue. He looked at Brand once again appraising him, then turned back to Hoder. “let’s go.”

With those words, the group continued their way into the wall separating the districts.