The cool gust of wind and dust gave him no relief on his departure from the Northern Gate. Combined with the danger of bandits stalking on his mind, Ray began to weigh his options for the day.

He could rid of his worry if he just asked what Sister Lily and Old Gibson were talking about, but such questions usually get a “Don’t worry, everything’s fine” reply.

Then there was the Ghost situation, always appearing at random hours every single damn day, giving him the coldest touch he ever felt. What the hell were those things? Time ticked each day, and their numbers grew worse and worse. Ray hated it, time was supposed to be enjoyed, not be stressed over because it was running out.

He considered that the red-robes were the reason for his supposed ‘sickness.’ But that was impossible, he was walking and breathing a few days after they summoned him on that dungeon with no Ghosts appearing until he used Lumen.

He needed a fast remedy for his Ghost problem and sadly there was no one to call.

A sigh escaped from him, he looked from the far distance further north, a rustle of green stretched from the horizon. He needed to buy another Lumen to compensate for his growing mana consumption and the first step for his plan would be in the trash dumps, which is expected to be finished in the next town.

Slumping an empty bag over his shoulders, Ray made his way to the paddy fields and found a congested road that connected other flat roadways in a crisscross formation. His boots then plopped and rustled on the tall grasses lifted by the wet soil.

If looked closely; Cat ears, dog ears, human ears, elf ears, were panting, sweating, and crouching on the ground as he walked by. A variety of races that made his heart thump the first time he met these people, with each of them scattered in different areas of boxes as the tilting of iron to grass whistled. They wore a tunic, and a hood that protects them from the sun.

Some glanced at him, familiar of the face walking by, but then returned to work afterwards.

As an established anime and light novel reader, Ray expected more from the mixed breeds though. To begin with, they were too... human. No full on snouts from the beast humans. No full on armored furs or scales. And sadly no... fluffy tails.

Oh but there were features for Demi-humans he digressed. You just need to observe the minute details. The common ones were the ears, most of the demi people he knew here had different ears than humans, where it twisted slightly or had a patch of half a centimeter thick of fur in them. Then the eyes, though uncommon. Then the fingernails. Then the fangs.

All in all, it was easy to mistake Demi-humans as humans. He hadn’t seen someone who looked the ‘beast’ part yet. They looked like cosplayers who couldn’t afford a good costume, and just bought accessories to look the part. The only sure way to know if someone was a Demi-human was that they don’t necessarily need Lumen to cast magic.

The sun stood at a peaked angle. Ray wiped his forehead, the contours of his shadow bent slightly to the right. It was torture walking in this time of day, and the way to the trash dump required a long walk. Just like always.

I should be back by night.

If Parallel worlds inhabited by humans of a decent technology era were to be interviewed, at some point of time they will always point out about the amount of garbage they had. And this by far, in front of Ray was no exception.

A big mound of decay, dirt, grass, scraps, towered before him. He stooped over there and set his bag near the colossal mountain. It settled near a stoneworked hut, and sandwiched between the two was a gaping hole, a hole large enough to fit a hundred carriages.

Inside this very hole were the paintings of black soot smudged at its edges. They blackened the walls and crevices in sharp waves, indicating of the flames it once wrought. Ashes filled it, crammed in the very depths as though it was a container for the God of Darkness, only to be swept away by the wind.

Ray studied the surrounding area, the others weren’t still here. Lucky. No competition for now.

He sighed as he rubbed both of his hands. This is where Avod, south of Halga— capital of Halgard, and North of Jansen, burns their wastes. It was a mountain of trash discarded by the people in town, but for Ray and his fellow refugees, it was a mountain of treasures waiting to be adopted.

Strifling as it is, he went directly to the unburned garbage. The smell it reeked was akin to rotten egg, and although he raised the hem to his shirt and tied a noose over his mouth and nose, it did absolutely nothing however. Nonetheless, he rummaged a chunk at a time, carefully watching out for sharp objects. He hoped leather gloves would magically say hi to him. It would be a nice addition for efficiency, but he grimaced, being more careful was cheaper.

Digging with his fingers, Ray found a broken trinket. Signs of corrosion lingered on parts of its body. He examined it for a while, studying its brittleness, eh what the hell, then he threw it in a bag. Another wave of his hand and a rusted knife landed atop his palms.

Ray stared at it for a minute, switching at both sides of the blade. Then he let out a chuckle, wrapping it with a dirt-laced-cloth he spotted near a spoiled cabbage, and then was finally swallowed by the bag. Bracelets, rings, plates, spoons, books, soon followed after.

This was his usual day, scavenging for valuables that slicked with grime and tar. Ray knew some of the items have value in them, but it was so hard finding merchants willing to buy for it. And in the end, all will be stored as unused goods or sold for a few cents.

“Ah. This is what I need.” He held the straps of a crimson flowing dress. It was battered as fuck, like someone bashed it with a hammer and then grinded it by using the hammer’s blunt side. Ray took a deep breath... and wore it atop his already dirtied shirt.

Give me a wand and I’ll become a tooth fairy.

Just the dress alone was not enough for Ray. He took it upon himself in taking the spoiled scraps he found and lathered bits of its rotten flesh to his already-worn beat-up dress. Rotten cabbage leaves at the front. Orange peel at the back. Then he went and grabbed a wooden stick about his height and dipped it into the ash hole.

There, he smothered his palms on the blackened part of stick as though he was pumping with two hands. The ashes darkened his hands, and rose above his arm, as though it was a chocolate dressing of bread.

He paused for a moment and then used the ash-covered hands to douse his face, neck, armpits, any skin that was exposed.

The signs were clear. A quick glance from a broken glass showed a dirty, smelly, desperate man smiling at him.

And finally this scarf will be wrapped around my head.

“I think this is enough, let’s go.” Ray tied the hem of his bag and walked.

Although Ray had been travelling back to back from Jansen to Avod in the past few days, it was still the most painful walk he experienced. His foot screamed and the blisters that formed bitched him to rest. The only silver lining was the pain on his legs and shoulders were now transferred to his foot. And thank Halavat this road was flat, he couldn’t imagine the horror if it was not.

“Haaaaaa”

Sounds of metals clacked as the road become a wide field. Ray immediately stopped and hurled himself to the ground. It was heaven. The sounds of people. The shade of the trees. The grass and wind. It felt surprisingly good. He wouldn’t mind staying like this forever. But he still had work to do.

Still slouched on the bed of grass, Ray took a tightly wrapped cloth inside his bag, unfurling a water cask and a piece of bread. Knowing that it was beside trash did not hinder Ray at all in salivating for it. So he munched and drank, taking small gulps and bites, until he was finally satisfied.

After he was done resting, Ray finally stood up. The sun was beginning to set.

As he reached the walls of Avod, Ray began to join the people lining up at the Gate. It was bigger than Jansen and steel bars hung above. He saw some of the people, decently clothed, looking at him and gave him a variety of faces, mostly disgust. Good thing there were few of them and he didn’t have to wait for his turn.

“Purpose of visit.” The guard said in a repressed voice, his face scowling under the metal helmet and a spear readied on his right.

“I want to sell some wares, Sir.” The ragged Ray innocently smiled at the guard and clasped the guard’s arms. He then slapped the guard’s chest. “Halavat blessed me today Sir. I think this will be a big profit.”

It was then; Ray could see the guard fuming in red, tightening the grip on the spear’s handle.

Now that was scary, but the guard, after a moment’s pause, took a forced smile. “I see. Good luck then, and may Halavat bless you.”

Ray didn’t know the reason why, but somehow, the guards he met didn’t berate based on appearances.

One time, he saw them kill a noble looking person. Ray thought they had a scan magic that detects contraband, but he also saw them let crazy strangers pass. It was strange. He wondered what their policies were in accepting visitors.

“Why thank you good Sir. May Halavat bless you too.”

The cityscape in Avod was in a league of its own. Ray could see the lines of pubs and inns, scattering in a network of streets. In the street he stood, he saw hundreds of people, going inside and outside of establishments.

There, he glanced at a sign embroidered with the image of a book and a cylinder.

Without waiting for the explosion of anger behind him, Ray bowed and headed inside.

“Welcome to Crafts and Magic. What can I help you with?” Garlan said robotically, turning his head to the customer, but as he saw the stranger. “Freak! Get your dirty ass out here.”

He couldn’t believe what he saw. Of all the places in Rix Street, his shop was being begged by this dirty and smelly man. This time, there will be no begging, these types of people must work and not disturb hard-working people like him.

Garlan disgusted by the smell, saw the stranger drop a bulky bag made of cloth, its contents clattering against the wooden plank. The freak clasped both hands at his back then stared at Garlan. “A freak you say?”

“That is right.” The shopkeeper replied. This freak had the gall to talk back. Now equipped with a steel cane, Garlan would smack the living hell of this rat. “And I will be calling the guards if you don’t get out.”

“Discrimination, humiliation, and the abuse of power to the weak.” The man walked closer and trailed his eyes on a plank nailed in display. “is this how Mr. Garlan, a child of God, is supposed to do?”

“The what?”

Did he just read my name?

“Love your neighbors as they were your own family. This is one of the teachings of the Church.” The man caressed Garlan’s cheek. “The way you acted. The display you have shown me is a rebellion against God. And you dare decorate his face on the walls.”

“Tell me Mr. Garlan. Are you a heretic?”

“Wha- It can’t be. Are you an Inquisitor Your Holiness?” He laid his weapon down and looked at the stranger.

“Why do you assume so Mr. Garlan? Didn’t you call me a freak just now?”

“It was. It was because I didn’t know Your Holiness.”

“Don’t call me holiness Mr. Garlan. Call me a freak.” The dirty man in a tattered red dress sauntered on the shelves displayed on the shopkeepers back and grabbed the books one by one. “The Principles of Arl Magic. The History of the Pure. Halavat’s Becoming. All of these books who bore from our God... and just to be tainted by this heretic.”

Hearing those words, Garlan of Crafts and Magic immediately kowtowed, slamming his forehead on the bare floor. “Please forgive me Your Holiness! I have strayed from the path. Please do not smite me.”

Garlan sobbed. The stranger before him had just recited the Agash Language, the Kope, the Halga, in their perfect accent. The stranger before him was a real Inquisitor. His body shivered, remembering how Inquisitors tend to be... radical.

“Please stand up Mr. Garlan. There is no Inquisitor here, only a customer.”

No. He cannot. Garlan nailed himself on the floor more forcefully, he met this kind of Inquisitor before. They go overboard in their acts of spreading the teachings, going as far as mutilating themselves or acting as deranged animals in the name of their God.

And people that receive their ‘words’ usually leave half crazy, always praying to God and shouting ‘Praise’ every chance they got.

“Please forgive me Your Holiness. I am still young and had just inherited this shop from my family. I may have succumbed to temptation but with the presence of Your Holiness, I was saved and I deeply regret doing it. If given the chance I promise to do better in the name of God.”

Oh Halavat save me!

A paper of green fell on Garlan’s right hand. He peeked upwards and the Inquisitor still looked down, his eyes glowing a flash of red.

In that moment, a suffocating aura surrounded Garlan’s very being. He could hear murmurs he couldn’t comprehend. Death and decay intertwined. Danced in the growing cold, The air was suddenly heavy. The air turning to frost.

The Inquisitor crouched, his fingertips drawing on Garlan’s chin. There, Garlan faced the Inquisitor, the eyes targeted upon him trenched with a crimson horror. Flames riddled the center of the irises. Even with all the ash and rot, the Inquisitor was no dirty, smelly man. He was more. His very existance was fear itself.

“Lumen Mr. Garlan, I want to buy a Lumen.” A cold and detached voice came from the Inquisitors mouth.

Garlan blinked, taking a moment to understand the words. The Inquisitor’s body was distorting. He suddenly felt that a cruel death will come to him if he doesn’t bring a Lumen at this very instant. In a flash, Garlan went to the Crystal Section and brought two fist sized crystals

With a kneel, he offered the crystals to the Inquisitor. “Your Holiness.”

“Ah most kind Mr. Garlan.”

His Holiness touched the crystal. That was then, Garlan noticed a gust of wind swirling in the room. Air plunged into his lungs, choking him, slashes of cold frost pierced his throat. He panicked and not knowing what to do, he grabbed his own neck and pushed. He couldn’t breathe. Is he gonna die?

But when the Inquisitor let out a sigh, Garlan could now feel his breath. The color of his skin went from purple to tan.

He realized his back was now flat on the floor.

At this moment, relief came crashing down. Garlan cried. The Inquisitor forgave him.

And he lived.