The bell lay broken by the side of the structure, connecting it to the city ground. The small house on its side was completely destroyed, but it blended into the landscape, becoming a new landmark for the city of Markshal. Madly could see numerous names carved into the bell, a memorial to the city's dead. To the exiles who had tried to make a living exploring the ruins, and to their children who had suffered their pain. The atmosphere was beautiful and calm. The tower rose before her, with the sounds of voices and footsteps echoing in a cheerful symphony. There was life in that abandoned ruin, amidst the destruction of a death zone; one could even hear music. The White Scarf had the sensation of approaching a dirty tavern in the east of the Empire, with loud music. The sound of voices reverberating amidst laughter, as if the world outside didn't matter. However, the smell called her back: beyond the standard tavern mix of sweat and burnt meat, there was the spice that burned her nostrils. It was the unique tones of cinnamon and other condiments, mixed with the iron from the blood of the Others.
— My flow is shaken just from smelling this. The spice is truly powerful.
This was Madly's first contact with the spice, and her head ached just from thinking about her flow. Minor movements reverberated through her body, her emotions seemed heightened, and sweat poured from her pores with greater frequency.
The White Scarf stepped on the edge of the shield, which launched it upward in a pendulum motion. The pulse from the sigils vanished, the glow disappeared, transforming it back into a coin that fell into the palm of her hand.
— Good trick, for someone who invaded my city. — Said a male voice that came from the shadows.
A one-eyed man emerged. His reddish-brown hair, long as a mane, fell behind his ears, similar to a mullet in its volume.
— I didn't know the Emperor had left a bastard son in this ruin. — Madly stared at the man with the clear arrogance of her station.
The tall man approached. He was without armor, just a bastard sword at his waist. His clothes were dirty and patched, which matched his tanned skin. Scars snaked across his muscular, sweaty arms. He faced the White Scarf in her suit and overcoat, face to face.
— Are you seeing any Imperial soldiers here? — His arms crossed, showing off his defined biceps and triceps. He turned his head from side to side as if mocking the woman, but he had another interest: checking to see if she was alone. — No! The Empire has no power in this place.
Madly opened her mouth to question the man. He was 30 centimeters taller than her, making her come up to his chest.
— So, what are you doing in my city? — The man cut her off, reaffirming his ownership of the territory.
— He doesn't even seem to be 1st Rank. Is he a beginner? No... I doubt it.
— Arrogance precedes the fall. You are a frog at the bottom of a well thinking you own the sky. Know your place. — Madly couldn't contain her actions. She had always had a strong temperament, but never to the point of showing it so easily.
The White Scarf's hand quickly touched the man's stomach. A light pulse ran through his body. Capable of easily disorienting any Rankless person; after all, for someone without flow control, an injection of energy turns their body into a mess for a few minutes.
However, nothing happened. The flow's essence was stopped from running after just a few seconds of touching the man. The pulse unraveled naturally, causing only a faint chill.
The one-eyed man's hand grabbed Madly's arm and pulled his face close to hers.
— You know your place, foreigner. If you try another one of those tricks, I'll rip your arm off. — The man's strength was much greater than Madly thought, but she felt no pain from the pressure on her skin; it still wasn't enough to hurt her.
— How? Is his flow broken? I've never seen anything like it.
She pulled her arm back hard, feeling the slight jolt from the man's hand. With her arm free, she stared at him, knowing he had felt pain from her pull, but with the force she'd used, it should have at least broken his fingers. She had underestimated the young man.
— I'm not here to fight. I'm just passing through... — She was still speaking when she was interrupted again.
— I'm not a patient man! Spit it out, what did you come here for! No beating around the bush. — He clenched and unclenched his fist a few times, feeling the pain from the pull.
— Your people may be in danger. We believe there is a Dream Catcher in this city. — She paused a bit and controlled herself to play the game. — In your city.
— Dream Catcher? What's that? — The man stared at her in doubt.
— He's finally starting to listen to me.
— A...
— Are you from the Empire? — The man returned to his hostile posture and glared at her with anger.
— The Empire? I was born in the Empire, but I don't work for it. — Madly held back her anger, but she was slowly losing her self-control.
— He can't even tell the difference between an imperial knight and he declares himself king of a city? I could feel pity for him, but he doesn't leave that option open.
— Then what the hell are you? — His voice held no anger, but a slight tone of doubt and confusion at an authoritarian level.
— I am a White Scarf. — Madly pointed to the scarf on her clothing. — An acolyte of the Two-Faced Goddess, an official member of the Church.
Pride leaked from Madly's voice. A rare and respectable arrogance that she knew she could carry anywhere. The Two-Faced Church was one of the main religions of the Empire; everyone knew it, and many feared it.
— A believer. — He grumbled, with clear low expectation in his voice. — Just tell me what this Dream Catcher thing is.
The woman was a little stunned by the ignorance of the man before her. A White Scarf was respected by all, as no one wanted to have trouble with the Church; even if that wasn't entirely true.
— Dream Catchers are dangerous beings who devour people's dreams. They become stronger with every dream they absorb. They can devour part of your soul and increase their power. If they manage to feed well, nothing can stop them. They camouflage themselves among the population and are almost unrecognizable.
Madly didn't hold back and started walking towards the Tower; she had things to do and needed to analyze the other people. The man in front of her was definitely not a Dream Catcher.
— And why would one of them be here? There's nothing in this place a Catcher would want! He likes dreams? What dreams do exiles have? — The large man walked beside Madly, shoulder to shoulder, as an equal.
The man's logical thought startled her a little. He wasn't stupid.
— I almost confused ignorance with a lack of intelligence. He just doesn't know things. He doesn't know the dangers and powers of this world.
— I don't know why he would be here, but he is certainly in the city. I need to analyze your people, find out if one of them is a Catcher. — She looked at the man who was fixing his serious gaze on the tower's main hall. — He may have infiltrated this place.
The man grabbed her arm again. His one eye stared at her again and then he let go of her arm, making her stop in place.
— I would know if there was a dream thief among my people. And I'm sure there isn't. — He looked deep into her eyes and continued. — If you want to analyze and confirm my answer, do it, but I want you to explain how you know who is a Dream Catcher?
Madly faced the man again. The way he spoke was different; he seemed more aware of the danger somehow, or just more interested in the subject, which didn't matter to her. She needed to find the Dream Catcher as quickly as possible.
— They know personal parts of our lives. They know information that no one else knows. That's how they adapt to society, appearing as common people, showing up out of nowhere, and by the time you realize it, they've already stolen all your dreams and the dreams of those around you.
— How do they attack? — The warrior was deep in thought. His hunter's mind seemed to be processing thousands of pieces of information.
— Your soul is destroyed. How is it done? It depends... Blows, or even just getting close, can make people drop dead. An entire city had its dreams collected in a few hours. 300,000 people dead. But against stronger creatures, he needs to land blows for it to happen.
Madly didn't know if the information was correct; after all, she had only seen one Dream Catcher and had heard of other unconfirmed cases from other Churches. The Rabbit Case was the most well-known; the others were just very consistent speculations.
— Fuck! Isn't there any distinguishing detail? Nothing that can identify him as a monster? I don't want to know about their shitty deeds. I understood it's a dangerous creature. — The rude man postured.
— Their eyes glow purple when they devour dreams. It's the only palpable information I have about their form of attack. — Madly maintained her posture, though irritated.
— Now that's something useful!
The man remained silent, letting Madly go ahead and enter the Bell Tower. He continued behind her, thinking, reflecting on the matter. The woman glanced at him every few steps, only to notice his unusual quietness. Fulfilling her duty, she entered the room.
The tower was a large place, like the hall of an ancient church. There were thousands of pieces of furniture thrown in every corner, stalls that formed a large market, selling thousands of different supplies. You could see weapons collected from the ruins, handmade objects, medical apparatuses, clothes, and last but not least, meat. The meat, in turn, looked like a mass of reddish mucus, cooked or dehydrated. Madly, startled by the object, ignored all the other information in her path: the exorbitant number of at least 2,000 people (a large part of them wearing armor with leather coats and rusty metal armor) and how out of place her presence was in that environment.
She approached the meat vendor. The man stared at her in disbelief, his eyes widened and his lips were almost devoured with pleasure at the sight of such a clean and beautiful woman.
— What is this meat made of? — Madly asked quickly. There was irritation, fear, and discomfort in her voice.
— What else do you think it is, hot stuff? Other meat! — The slightly fat man, but with apparent muscles, scratched his beard. — Get used to it, sweetie, if you were exiled, this is what you'll be eating! But if you want some little rats, I can get them for you, in exchange for a few favors with that little porcelain face.
The man laughed loudly, scratching his beard with fingers dark with spice. His right hand slowly touched the buckle of his belt.
— You shouldn't eat this... It has a high degree of spice. — She tried to keep her face calm, but was dumbfounded by the situation.
— They are consuming one of the greatest and most dangerous sources of power in the world as if it were nothing. Mages die from small doses. People would kill for a small amount of the reddish powder on this merchant's hands.
She didn't know much about the consequences of using the spice, but she knew the risk that was warned about its use. The general population wasn't supposed to know this, as it was a matter that only members of the Churches or knights of the Empire knew. However, she had seen cases of loss of control, flow modification, or even fantastical visions. Knowing the basics already made her afraid; imagine knowing enough. It was a dangerous material that should not be used on a daily basis.
— High degree? You prefer hunger? Few people die from eating Other meat. And those who died, would have died anyway. — He stared at her again, licked his teeth, and smiled. — So, are you going to accept my proposal?
Madly ignored the man and scanned the area. The landscape in her peripheral vision showed thousands of dirty, thin men and women, some terrified, others brave. They symbolized the archetype of the Exile in the acolyte's mind, but nothing more. They didn't seem to have any visible effects from the use of the spice.
— They seem normal, but when I used a pulse on the one-eyed man, he felt nothing. Their energy flow must be soaked in spice. This must prevent their advancement, but does it keep them with a greater defense against these creatures? There must be other changes I can't understand. Why can't I think better!
A rage was emerging from her mind. A desire to hit the man in front of her, who was looking at her as if he would swallow her whole, emerged, contained in the back of her mind.
The smell of spice grew, and an urge to vomit increased more and more. Almost intoxicated by the few minutes in the environment, she took her white scarf and placed it over her face, covering it to breathe better, like a filter.
— Foreigner, you want to hunt this creature, don't you? I don't think you can do it alone. My group knows these streets; we've been fighting Others since we were kids. We may not have the abilities you have, but we are capable and more adaptable to this environment than you.
Madly was startled by the man's voice behind her. The one-eyed warrior was staring at her with a smile. He had deduced the sensation the woman would have upon entering the tower. He knew what she would feel upon having major contact with the spice and the explorers' lifestyle. A shrewd expression appeared on the warrior's face, having architected all this from the beginning to show his true value. To win the future negotiation.
— We can help find your Dream Catcher. Even kill him. I have a few ideas of who he might be, and I can hunt him. But I want to know what I get out of it. What can the Church of the Two-Faced Goddess give me?