POV: Bahmos's brother, Velun Rezac

  I sat on a red couch, my arms draped across the backrest. I radiated confidence.

  This was the first couch I bought for this place. Everyone thought it was a dumb idea.

  Why get a couch so long? my dear friends had complained.

  To their surprise, it managed to fit in the room. The armrest just had to be wedged between the two opposing wooden walls.

  Those walls were a light, vivid green—the same color and texture as grass. To complete the natural atmosphere, I had the front and back painted a deep brown—like wet soil.

  "Come on, man..."

  The black metal table in front of me held accounting books, mark-stones, and blue megna (a drug that looked like watery clay, capable of making you feel overwhelmingly confident).

  "Talk to me, Velun!"

  It was a decently sized room for my operations. My pals agreed. Mela, the woman standing behind me with her arms crossed, didn’t.

  For some reason, she wanted it to be larger.

  I often joked that if it were any bigger, it would rival her forehead.

  The forehead she tried her best to hide by brushing her black hair forward. But that was also to conceal the nasty scars she got as a kid from her grandparents.

  They had discovered a little secret of hers, and that had set them off.

  Don’t think that made her ugly. She was still far from that. It may be cliché, but she was beautiful enough to draw the eyes of many. Perhaps adorable was the better word.

  Yes. Her cheeks were too rounded, and her face too innocent to be anything but that.

  "Don’t ignore me!"

  I turned to my accountant, Meyun, who sat at the edge of the couch, tallying today’s sales. His leaf-like hair made it obvious to all he was a Rejuck. He spoke like one too, making no effort to hide the awful accent I had grown to... hm. Find endearing.

  I sighed and then directed my attention to the troublemaker. "You’re from Retuia?"

  He blinked through his pain, trying to understand why I asked such a random question.

  I wondered if thinking hurt his already-bruised head. Or was it the blood loss?

  The blood had soaked the left side of him red. Probably both.

  He asked, desperate for an answer, "Why...?"

  "Just your accent. Reminded me of a Julioes. That heavy T... and can’t seem to pronounce the A. Get what I mean?"

  He barely shook his head. Now he just looked more confused.

  I decided to stop playing and got to the point. I looked at the woman sitting on the brown, plush couch that felt like sex. Not the ordinary kind.

  The kind you have after a month of abstinence.

  Majestic Feelings was probably my favorite furniture company for that reason alone.

  The white blanket covering her naked form spilled onto the carpet, which bore the image of a man with orange hair glowing so brightly, the moon behind him was barely visible. Brandon Starbright.

  Her pale fingers tapped the armrest, and she anxiously stared at the ceiling, absentmindedly licking the red gloss off her lips.

  "Miss Aja. Can you recount your encounter with Mool?"

  She snapped toward me in surprise, as if she’d just remembered I was there.

  Her green eyes widened, then slowly, without turning her head, they drifted to Mool. Mool didn’t say anything, didn’t grunt, or really react—but he stared at her. And it didn’t take a wise man to know he was issuing threats with those eyes of his. Or perhaps reminding her of past ones?

  I wasn’t sure.

  Her gaze was quickly torn from him and dropped to her clenched hands. They trembled, and she tried her best to still them, but couldn’t.

  "Well... U-um," she stuttered. "Nothing happened, sir. It's just a misunderstanding." She smiled at me like she was being held at knifepoint.

  Her lies weren’t convincing. Not that it mattered. It didn’t change the bandage on her eye or her swollen lips. I wondered how much fear it took for someone to anxiously lick their lips despite them being in such a horrid state.

  Mela clicked her tongue, surely irritated that we were wasting time with obvious lies. But she said nothing, as she often didn’t.

  Anyway, I said, "How long have you been working for us, Miss Aja?"

  "Um... I believe for a month now?"

  "Is it your first time being an... escort?"

  "No. That's the only job I can get." She laughed awkwardly, trying to downplay how embarrassed she felt. "Things are tough in this economy. Gotta do what I gotta do."

  I nodded and leaned forward. "So you know of me? Heard of me before? The real me, I mean."

  "Well of course, sir..." She hesitated, then asked—more fearful than before, "I didn’t do anything to offend you, right? The man, I said he did nothing wrong, sir. I mean that!"

  "What? Oh no, no! Of course not. What I’m saying is... you’re an employee of mine. Do you think I want my employees getting hurt? Hating working for me?"

  She didn’t respond. It seemed she didn’t know how to.

  Mela interjected, irritated, "To put it simply: tell us what happened. Nothing will happen to you. We're not fools, so don’t lie to our faces. Not when I’m here."

  And of course... Mela couldn’t keep quiet. I sighed and leaned back on the couch.

  Aja was taken aback and almost looked at the man. But just like Mela, I too had grown tired of this.

  So I said, "Don’t look at him." Her eyes returned to me, and I continued. "Get to the point. No one’s going to kill you—or whatever threat he made."

  She didn’t speak for a while, just pressed her lips together. Then finally, she gathered the courage and said, "I was at his place yesterday. Six hours after noon. After we were done, he asked me to meet his friend. I said no. 'Cause I ain’t stupid. When I tried to leave..." She paused, then said, "He got aggressive and punched me. If the security hadn’t heard me, he would've killed me."

  I nodded. "I see. Thank you. He'll be dealt with. I promise you that. You can leave. Head to the medical room. It's opposite the bathroom in the right wing. If you can't find it, ask someone."

  She looked at us both, confused for a second, then stood up and hurried off. "Right!"

  One of my bodyguards opened the door for her, then shut it.

  Mool’s hands clenched into fists. “What the hell, man? You’re gonna take the side of a damn prostitute over me?! All of a sudden, you’re some saint? Why are you acting like you don’t know me? Why?!”

  “’Cause I’m serious about this business, you bastard.” I couldn’t hold the anger back anymore and bared my teeth like a feral animal. “I told you how I started running things. That I needed my operations to be clean. To be solid. For me to look like the best in this game.”

  I stood up and circled the table, heading toward him. “And you think... just ‘cause we’re close, you can stroll in here and do whatever the hell you want?”

  I stopped in front of him. “You think I’m gonna wreck my business—my reputation—because of you?!”

  He didn’t reply. Just stared at me like I was some stranger. So I grabbed him by the hair and yanked him forward. “What do you think the other girls are thinking, huh?” I said it louder, not giving a damn about eavesdroppers—the room was soundproof. “Tell me! When they see one of their coworkers stumble in here all bruised up, what do you think runs through their heads?”

  I shoved him, and he crashed to the ground. He was breathing hard—definitely furious. He wanted to hit back. To keep his pride.

  He glared up at me and said, “Who cares? Who gives a shit!”

  I couldn’t believe it. I really couldn’t. I just looked at him like a disappointed father. “Wrong answer. They stop believing my promises. They stop trusting the safety I claim to provide. Once that happens, they start comparing other options, wondering which one’s safer. Fewer workers, less cash. Less payment. I lose even more, and my regulars stop coming here for them. What I offer… most don’t.”

  I picked up the kitchen knife that was resting near a teacup. “Most can’t. Decent pay? Sometimes, great pay. But more importantly—protection. You know how many whores come here because of that? How many of them tell their friends they can show up without worrying about getting hurt? And if someone does hurt them, that a message will be made loud and clear the next day?” I crouched down on one knee and leaned in toward him. “A lot. A damn lot.”

  “Oh boo-hoo. What’re you gonna do to me, man? Kill me? Really?” he asked, then spat on me.

  The white spit hit my chin and trickled down to my neck. I wiped it off and stood up. “Mela.”

  She looked my way.

  I said, “The usual.”

  She smiled as she walked over to him. “I’m getting a bonus, right?”

  I flopped onto the couch and gestured toward him. “He’s the bonus.”

  “Too ugly to count. Add some silver to my account.” She grabbed him by the throat and lifted him clean off the ground. “Ever had intercourse with a Vlandos? Or with a monster? Or maybe both?”

  She stood at around 5'8". A full foot of bone had been surgically removed from her legs and spine so she could pass as human. So whenever she showed off that monstrous strength, it always shook the unprepared.

  I always wondered what people thought when they saw her standing as my bodyguard, assuming she was just another human like me—like most of us.

  “What the fuck…” He turned to me, panicked. “Come on, Velun.”

  He screamed, tearing his throat apart, pleading for forgiveness. “Veluuuuuun!”

  It hurt me deeply.

  Sorry, my friend.

  I had a business to run. And the only thing that came before business was family.

  I almost sighed. It infuriated me how foolish people could be in this world. For crying out loud, he could’ve bought a sex slave off the legal market. Sure, they were pricey, but Sundawn had budget markets. Hell, near the Aprcon Supermarket was that rundown Talis Slave Mart.

  Or if he wanted a non-Terrafallen human, he could’ve come to me.

  Mela’s smile widened. “It’s something to die for.”

  I picked up my Noise Blockers—non-tech devices shaped like split spheres. Lined with Kernul Rock sand, they could cancel all sound.

  They were usually used in soundrecorders.

  So I popped them over my ears and picked up the small, coverless novel I hadn’t finished. Embrace Love.

  Continuing the page:

  We are humans. No matter what race we belong to, what nation we’re born in, what culture or tradition we follow.

  No matter how rich or poor we are, we all share one thing.

  Love.

  We should love one another. Forgive one another. Because only through love can we survive as a civilization.

  Without love, there’s only hatred. With hatred, there’s only conflict. And with conflict, there’s only suffering and death.

  So we must love… show love… embrace love…

  And... become love.

  ***

  POV: Rael Leger

  "Why do you lie so much?" The doctor in white asked. "Sooner or later... you'll start believing your own lies."

  "I doubt that."

  To the present.

  I stood in front of Pure Love. A massive building with paintings of women—of all kinds of women and races—on the left side. They weren't naked. I heard authorities had forced them to change it, so all the women had strings to cover their nipples and private areas.

  The right side of the building was the opposite—a mural of a bunch of buffed, tall, slim, or/and nearly feminine-looking men.

  My best friend worked at a women's love club once.

  He told me the major difference was that the men that catered to the women seemed to primarily target their desire for companionship and love. The order in which they did so depended on the beauty of the woman. If she was beautiful, sexual advances were most likely common to her, so they never led with that. If the women were ugly, they led with lust, since the women often mistook lust for love. Of course, how confident they were also factored in.

  Whatever. Never understood these clubs or brothels. I wasn't a prude—I couldn't be one with the fiancée I had.

  Just never really liked them.

  Anyway, I made my way to the women's section. I doubted Velun was going to be at the men's. But who knew? It was his business after all.

  I made my way to the door and pretty much ignored the line that seemed to continue forever. The two bodyguards standing at the side of that door? I flicked my wrist at them, which sent them rolling on the pavement.

  I pushed the double door open and was met with darkness lit up by flashing red, blue, and orange lights.

  Music blasted, almost too loud for my ears. And the vulgarity of it... it reminded me of what my best friend often subjected me to listen to. Which was still better than the gibberish and bashing of metals that Tesla always played.

  “I walk up to the spot, who gonna do a thing? Got two bitches on my side, got every dumb fucker glaring.”

  I stood looking around, trying to spot the stairs that went up. But... I had to say, it was quite a view.

  There were elevated circular platforms with powerful fans below them, pushing the nude dancers into the air, where they twirled, spun, and danced.

  “Wishing they were me, rich like me, smooth like me.”

  From an entertainment point of view, I could get it. They had grace to their movements.

  "Shake that ass!" a punchio, barely old enough to be here, anxiously shouted. He was with two older boys: a julioes with greyish hair, and a Terrafallen human.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

  They were all grinning and practically jumping—but not too much. They didn't want the alcohol in their glass to spill.

  “But they ain't ever gonna be like me. 'Cause there's only one me.”

  Yes, I could not understand this. I had only been to one of these clubs about three times in my life. My first time, I was with a group of friends who had developed an interest in women before I did (I was a late bloomer). Obviously, I wanted to fit in with them.

  But when we had entered and I saw how excited they were, I couldn't relate. I couldn't get it. Just staring at naked women...? What the hell was fun about that?

  I suppose I thought I was broken.

  I remember when Kel—the most timid and shy friend in our group—said Miss Tauila, our history teacher that every guy in class secretly lusted after, had a sexy ass.

  I just stared at him, confused. Thinking something didn’t make sense.

  He was shy—so damn shy you'd think he would never develop an interest in the opposite sex. Yet here he was, being normal, proper, right. Normal... fucking normal.

  That really did a number on me, because I wondered, why the fuck was I the different one? The weird one?

  Why not him?

  I was envious. Or perhaps I looked down on him and thought he would be similar to me, worse than me. It was most likely both.

  Then one day during recess, when I saw Omar—the smartass in math class—had gotten a boyfriend (an ugly guy), I wondered: was I gay too?

  It was the only thing that made sense. I wasn't abnormal. I was just trying to open the door with the wrong key!

  So I went to a men’s strip club with Omar. He often went there, saving his monthly allowance for those moments. When I sat on the long red couch near Omar, observing his cheers and wooing, I realized something.

  Other men's dicks and balls were... repulsive.

  Which confused me even more. To say the least, when I was sixteen and finally started working properly, actually having an interest in women, in sex, I was more than excited. I could fit in better. I would soon be able to understand the obsession my friends had with sex, girls, porn magazines.

  And so, I went to another strip club, this time with my cousin. However, as I leaned against the wall, watching the punchio woman flip in the air multiple times—seeing all of her body with no restriction, watching the way her breasts moved, how her hair twirled above her head like it was alive, the tattoo on her left ass cheek—I thought, I feel nothing.

  And then, the third time, I tried a brothel. Some clubs had them merged; the one I visited did not. My experience was... horrible.

  I felt nothing while having sex with a woman I did not know. I did not care to know. Would not remember.

  No pleasure, no joy. But at least I would be able to tell my friends I fucked a chick with a really big ass. Perhaps lie and say it was a julioes. A lot of them secretly fetishized the pinks.

  This place... really brought back memories.

  Walking toward me was a naked brown woman with curly hair—a Holvion. It was rare to see one of them in Terrafall. But at a brothel... or a strip club? Hm.

  I did not like Holvions, but the feeling was most definitely mutual. And to be fair, Holvious had a stronger reason to hate Terrafall. But alas, when your army commander spreads rumors about a king of mine, how am I not to hate you with every fiber of my being?

  And I assumed, spotting another Holvion among the dancers, Velun was trying to capitalize on the hatred for Holvions.

  I could imagine the advertisement: Hate Holvions? Come over to Pure Beauty, where you can dominate one in bed!

  Or was that perhaps an advertisement some of those slave markets used? Perhaps in the past. Relations with Holvious were being worked on, so selling and keeping Holvion slaves was made illegal half a decade ago—in exchange for Terrafallen slaves being freed in Holvious. Obviously, I was talking about personal slaves, not prison ones (government slaves).

  I turned my focus back to the woman, already able to smell the strong alcohol from the drinks she held on her massive plate.

  I would rather kill myself than drink alcohol that strong. Did she mistake me for a punchio?

  I eyed a surgery-cut scar on her breasts before noticing a reddish color around the smiley stickers that covered her nipples.

  I greeted her, "Hello, miss. Can you do me a favor?"

  She stood with her weight on her right foot. "Depends on how much you're paying..." She smiled seductively. "I could do a lot of favors."

  "Really? Your boss—mind telling me the way to him?"

  Her smile broke, and she pulled her head back, almost baffled. "Oh. Um."

  "It's for business. I'm having this afterparty for my employees. I want to have a wild party, get what I mean?"

  She nodded quickly, perhaps thinking she could make a good buck if she got hired for it. She pointed to her left. "Just continue walking until you meet the wall. You'll see some stairs. Tell Zaluk what you came for and, well... the guard will do what he does."

  "Thank you."

  She smiled and walked toward another person, a woman with greying hair this time.

  The way she clutched the front of her brown fur jacket and held that pipe, blue smoke curling from its tip, you’d think she was under serious stress.

  Anyway, I took the direction the miss gave me and made my way to the left, weaving through crowds—sometimes having to push through a cluster of them that were mesmerized by...

  I looked up and saw a woman with long, pointy ears.

  An elf?

  I stopped and looked too. Instead of gliding through the air, this pale-skinned woman—as pale as a corpse—was performing on invisible flat stairs.

  Her ass was flat as they came, her hips like those of a man. Her chest was like that of a human girl who had only gone through puberty for two years.

  Her body wasn’t one the regular human man lusted over.

  But the gentle smile that face was attached to was one of pure beauty. Of course, it couldn't rival a Vlandos or a Star blood. Regardless, it was still beautiful.

  Nowhere near as close to Tesla, though. But my emotions and attachments played with my view of Tesla, so I couldn’t be objective about that. Didn’t want to, too.

  Her head swung back, causing her dark blonde hair to fan out on what appeared to be invisible ground.

  Despite their tradition of braiding the hair when it became too long, hers was loose, wild.

  She moved from toe to toe, stretching her leg out before placing a heel on her knee. Then she spun... and spun.

  There wasn’t a trace of sex appeal from her. But then again, I couldn’t get turned on by strangers. Though I suspected most of those lost in her felt the same, since they watched as if a sport was being performed, and not one of lust.

  An elf. A fucking elf...

  What was wrong with some people? I shook my head. How long would it take before another elf found out and then killed her, claiming it was to maintain elf pride and tradition?

  But who knew? Perhaps her circumstances limited her choices. No, it clearly did. No elf would risk their life for fun, to rebel against tradition.

  Only a fool would. A walking corpse, that she was. And for some reason... that annoyed me. Angered me.

  Life was so short. So easy to end. One day, you were alive—the next, your guts lay on the ground.

  "Godverdomde verrader... Vieze Huidenblootlegger," a man behind me muttered.

  I recognized the language and accent. This fellow was from Lumion—most definitely an elf.

  To translate: he called her a traitor and skin-exposer. To translate further, not to another language, but in common sense: she was dead.

  As I walked away, I took a glimpse at the elf, noticing he had a hoodie on, most likely to hide his ears and the texture of his hair.

  I didn’t think he was here to kill her. He simply didn’t want to be caught in here, then killed for lusting over non-elf women. Or did they simply have their members cut off for it?

  I reached the stairs, which showed a path to the second floor, blocked by a Vlandos bodyguard.

  He was quite the tall fellow—almost taller than me. He stood there with his arms crossed, veins bulging across his muscles.

  He looked down at me like I was an insignificant bug. "What do you want?"

  Level 19

  He was significantly above the average level for a Vlandos who did regular work. That made me wonder about my friend's claim—that the Zone Guard who got his nose bashed in by the brown-haired girl was level 30.

  He most definitely was lied to. I, too, often lied about my level. Tesla always did, adding ten to hers. I was more realistic, only adding about four.

  I asked the man, "Just checking on a fellow man. Not many of us out there—we gotta stick together, you know?"

  He raised an eyebrow. "In Sundawn, we're everywhere."

  "Yeah... but I mean in general, not just the big cities."

  Those cities often had the best job opportunities for Vlandos, so obviously, the population of Vlandos there was incredibly high. So high, you'd think Vlandos were only a tiny bit rare.

  "Yeah? Then fuck off."

  I sighed. "Move aside. I don’t want to cause a scene."

  "Who the fuck do you—"

  I rushed up, and he reacted fairly fast. His arms moved to block the punch coming for his temple. Sadly for him, it was a feint.

  My knee crashed into his guts, and sounds of pure agony nearly rushed out of his mouth. I couldn’t allow that, so I caught his mouth, then punched his chin hard enough to knock him out.

  I didn’t look to see if anyone saw that and went up the stairs. I reached the top and was met with a door.

  I did the courteous thing and knocked on it. I waited a couple of seconds, and then I thought, fuck that.

  I kicked the thick steel door with all my willpower, making it cave in a bit.

  After a couple more kicks, it fell down along with the piece of wall it was attached to.

  I looked inside, ignoring the regular bodyguards, and saw... Hm.

  A naked man covered in a lot of blood, his stomach torn open, and his intestines hanging out. And on standing above the corpse, hurriedly putting pants (a Terrafallen woman publicly wearing pants? How bizarre) on, was a woman with a really big forehead.

  I broke the silence with a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “Hello.”

  She swiped her hair forward, sending a bunch of it forward, cutting the exposure of her forehead in half. "You're going to die!"

  What kind of insecurity did this chick have for that to be her first response to an aggressive intruder?

  I couldn’t look away as her blood and organ-smeared black underwear got hidden by brown leather pants.

  She jumped on a single leg, desperately trying to get her pants on, before giving up and slashing her elbow in my direction, which glowed white.

  "These fucks had enough pull to bribe some corrupt scholar at a Balash temple to keep this place out of the sanctity zone?"

  From my mouth came a bright flash of white. I was right—something did feel different.

  Before our monsters could materialize, the man behind a black table stood up in a panic. "Wait, wait, wait!"

  "Wait what?!" she asked.

  "Yeah, for what?" I wasn’t taking this seriously. Although I should’ve. Her level was greater than mine somehow.

  She stood at level 33, about five levels higher than I. Which was significant.

  Anyway, I still had my seal active.

  He said, "What... do you want? We can talk. Have a discussion. We don’t have to rush into violence."

  My eyes drifted to the dead man, now noticing his mouth split down to his ears.

  He noticed my gaze and said, "Yeah. That’s a hard sight. It’s... complicated." He then stopped talking, like he realized something—something that could ruin him. "You’re not here for him... right?"

  I deactivated my seal. "No. Couldn’t care less. I'm here to..." I looked at the woman, noting her seal was still glowing. "Can you get the little miss to turn that off? I don’t mind the braless part. That can stay."

  Obviously, I was just talking shit.

  "Fuck you. You little bitch," the woman snarled at me like I had insulted her deeply.

  The man waved his hands at her. "Just... relax. Put on a shirt."

  She took careful steps backward, grabbed a black vest and put it on, then put on a long-sleeve checkered shirt.

  I took a seat on a white couch. When I sank into it, it felt like heaven.

  I commented on it, "Holy shit. What brand is this?"

  The man answered, "Blessed Furs. Bought it from Majestic Feelings."

  "Ah..." I opened my [Personal Space] and pulled out two white gloves that were made with fabric. "Ex gave me one of those a couple years back. I don’t really see the hype. Just seems expensive for no reason. Fairy something."

  He slowly nodded in fear. He knew I worked with a government defense agency, so he was playing it smart.

  Even if his friend could beat me, it would lead to a storm of my fellow mates blasting in here. I doubt he thought I was a vanquisher—he would be far more afraid if he did.

  "Anyway, Bahmos," I said. "Where is he?"

  All of a sudden, his fear disappeared, and he became confused and concerned. "What did he do?"

  "Don’t know. I just want to know where he is."

  He looked at me for a while. He tried to remain confident, to hide his thoughts. But his eyes told a story—he wasn’t going to sell out his little brother.

  "I don’t know," he said.

  I stood up. "Don’t play with me."

  "I don’t know, damn it! He..." his hands clenched. "I just haven’t seen him in a long while."

  "I see..." I lowered my head and shook it. "I wish things went smoothly."

  Then suddenly, the woman groaned in anger and began furiously clawing at her back. Her elbow was about to glow white, but it was too late.

  Her mouth opened in fear and confusion, her hands digging into her back. She turned awkwardly, then suddenly froze in motion.

  She was still breathing, of course.

  The good part about having a monster seal in my mouth was that summoning a monster could be done silently.

  Even better when the cockroach monster could shrink.

  I walked over to her, drawing a blade from my personal space, and placed it on her neck. "I bet she costs a lot of money. If I killed her, you wouldn’t mind?"

  He remained calm. "That wouldn’t work on me."

  The sharp edge of my blade touched her neck.

  His finger twitched. "I told you, I—"

  My blade went in, and blood ran on my silver knife.

  Suddenly, he bit his tongue and almost panicked. "I’m telling the damn truth! He hasn’t come to us. He... he..." he struggled to say the rest. "Was supposed to visit me a while back. I didn’t see him."

  I asked, "About two days ago?"

  "Yeah... how'd you know?"

  "He was in the city."

  "Bullshit. If he was, he would have come to me immediately."

  I honestly didn’t believe him. But from the information I did gather about him, he had been paired with this woman for a long time. Apparently, they worked together since they were teens, before she reduced her height.

  He most likely wouldn’t risk her life. Of course, I only mentioned the cost she had because there was no need for him to know I knew their history.

  I released her, leaving her in a statue-like state until the venom would fade away. "If he shows up—when he does—ask him about a girl called Vernisha Holinestone. Natasha and Caren as her parents."

  He agreed. "Of course."

  This was annoying. I needed to get proper information. I spent time learning about him before making my move for a damn reason.

  And what did I get from it? Nothing. Fucking nothing.

  Lo’jul was the next target. That damn man better have something. Better have everything...

  I needed to keep my patience. Follow the smart route... and everything will play out well. It was easier to kill than to be behind the scenes. I had to remind myself of that. But I didn't have the luxury of that.

  I exited the building, walking past a certain individual with a hoodie on, knife in hand. He was staring at an elf in their sanctity veil.

  My mood was ruined. So I backhanded the side of his face so hard his neck twisted, and he eventually collapsed on the dirty concrete ground.

  Lo'jul... I'm coming for you.