The same day Eris took her dayoff, Straf, too, decided it was high time for a break - after all, yesterday's bounty was more than enough to cover his week's expenses.
I wonder what it would feel like to have golds to spare.
Besides daydreaming of endless riches, there was one thing that kept running around in his mind - Eris' invitation.
Do you want to join my party?
The question hung in the air as Straf's gaze drifted through his ceiling.
He had no grand plans for the day. The most productive thing he thought of was to buy some cheap fruits and vegetables from the makeshift stall he always visits in the slums.
Straf lived in the northern residential area of the town, a district known to be poorer than the rest. Just outside the northern walls were the slums, jokingly referred to by the locals as Slumhaven.
Narrow, winding alleys were twisted between crumbling wooden huts and sagging blankets. Clothesline criscrossed above like webs of a spider, heavy with tattered garments and animal hides.
This was Slumhaven. There were numerous reasons why one would end up in a place like this, and most times, it's not out of choice. People who couldn't pay their taxes to the local Lord were forced to live in the slums. Orphans from fallen adventurers, failed laborers, outcasts shunned by the townsfolk and freedmen all flock to Slumhaven seeking refuge. In the shadows, it served as a base of criminal operations among thieves, smugglers, slave traders, and even exiled alchemists.
Despite all odds against them, life still thrived in strange and stubborn ways among the people living there. Music played from broken lutes and discarded drums. The women would prepare communal meals made from scraps and bones. Children darted and rolled on the ground as they laughed, their faces decorated by the dusty earth as if wearing war paint.
As Straf passed through the north gate and out into the slums, he caught the attention of peddlers and beggars alike. However, his destination was a small market stall where he always bought his produce ever since he arrived at Lumhaven. Though sold for mere pennies, the goods showed no signs of spoilage and were clean enough to pass as fresh ones sold inside the town, if one squinted enough. They were cheap and edible - perfect for coin-strapped adventurers.
The stall owner was an elderly woman named Arda who had lost her child and was left to care for her grandchild, a young boy named Chitu. Chitu tended to the shop in his ailing grandmother's stead.
"Yooo, Straf!" Chitu exclaimed.
"How are things going, Chitu?" Straf replied.
"It's alright, I guess. Hey, Straf, is it true you saved a girl from a Shadowhound and then she became your girlfriend?" the curious youngster blurted out his question.
In this part of town, rumors always spread faster than the truth, so it seemed.
"What! Where did you hear that?" Straf bashfully answered, his nervous face glowed with a faint red hue. "I didn't. Well, we're not boyfriend girlfriend, but I did kinda help her defeat a Shadowhound."
"Straf! You should have been more confident. That was your chance!" Chitu shouted as if teaching Straf based on his own experience.
"Hey guys! Look, this is Straf, the Hero of the Slums!" the young boy called out to his friends in the streets.
Hero… of the Slums!?
The slums lie on the northernmost part of town outside the safety and protection of the walls. Though uncommon, monster attacks still struck now and then, another grim reminder of the unfair reality for those living outside the walls. A Shadowhound would have most likely found its way to the slums and caused immense damage.
Upon hearing the children screaming his name and his supposed new title, memories of his painful past resurfaced in his thoughts.
Help! Anyone! Help my brother!
As a child, Straf had lived with his parents and older brother in a small fishing town far north, known as Fishook Bay. His father was a failed adventurer who had lost a leg in a mission and became an alcoholic. Meanwhile, his mother sold fish that his older brother would catch.
One day, when Straf's father had been more drunk than usual, he grabbed his fire sword and swung wildly grazing Straf in the face leaving him a burnt scar from his cheek down to his neck. Straf cried to his mother but they couldn't do anything but to accept their situation.
Because of his father's abusive tendencies, Straf looked more to his older brother for warmth and wisdom. He held his brother dear, and his brother returned it in kind - a bond bound not only by blood but by unconditional love.
But as fate proved to be cruel time and again, Straf lost everything.
A horde of giant ant monsters, each the size of a wild boar, stormed the small town, leaving a trail of death and destruction in their wake. With their powerful jagged mandibles, they tore through walls and sawed through limbs in search of any food they could find to bring back to their dungeon nest. The two brothers ran from their house to the nearby forest. Their parents, not as fortunate, had already fallen to the swarm.
Behind them, the ants surged furiously, closing in on the brothers at terrifying speeds.
On one hand, his brother gripped onto Straf tightly, dragging him along the forest floor, and on the other hand was their father's sword.
As the ominous squeaking sound from the ants grew louder, his brother stopped - not from desperation, but from resolve.
"Take this Straf. Run. Don't look back. Run!" his brother shouted as he handed Straf the sword.
"What are you doing, we should run! What's with you!?" Straf cried out, his voice cracking with helplessness and desperation.
Without saying another word, his brother turned and charged towards the incoming horde. His eyes closed. His vocal cords sore from incessantly screaming at the top of his lungs. "Run, Straf! Run."
Unable to move, Straf watched the final moments of his brother, as if trapped in a horrible nightmare he couldn't wake from.
This isn't real… It's not real.
The scar from his father's sword throbbed, as the same feelings of powerlessness and weakness washed over him like a violent whirlpool dragging him into the abyss.
And then it happened.
With their crushing weight, the ants surged towards his brother and pinned him to the ground. First was his right hand. Screams turned into muffled cries.
"Live!"
With each passing moment, his brother lost a limb. With each limb lost, he cried in agony. The ants formed a writhing mound on top of him. Then, at last, he lifted his head and looked at Straf with dead eyes. For one final time, a whisper came out, "Live."
Straf didn't hear his final words but at that instance, everything around him turned dark. He ran away as fast as he could, desperately crying out for help as if pleading to the heavens.
"Help! Anyone! Help my brother!"
________________________________________
"Ouch!"
A sudden sharp pain shot up from Straf's leg. Chitu had kicked him, snapping him out of his daze.
"What you thinking about,huh?" Chitu said with an irritated tone. "You're thinking about the girl, right?"
"Why you little… " Straf murmured, gritting his teeth as he tended to his hurt leg.
He then proceeded to play with the slum children, taking on the role of a fearsome monster as the young "heroes" gleefully swarmed him, landing harmless blows with sticks and laughter.
In that moment, he had decided. He wanted to become stronger. Not because he was brave, but because he was afraid. Afraid to feel that powerless again. Afraid that he will run again.
I really shouldn't be thinking of work. It's my dayoff.