Rowan's eyes shrunk.

"They're the sacrifice. Climbing ranks of immense power was what he felt almost caused the compass in his hands to explode."

The words that were uttered echoed indefinitely. There was no high ceiling to support them droning, but it felt like Rowan's mind couldn't accept what had just come out of the Beastman's mouth.

Alfredo stared at the Tributal as if expecting a response, Rowan stared back, one eye twitching. They fixed their glasses, trying to read through Alfredo, and even though royal blood was at work, the only answer they were left with was, once again, more unsureness.

Rowan breathed out, calmly. "Where are they?"

"Ambrosia, or the other Tributal?"

"Both of them." Rowan blinked, the other eye unsurely shaking as if it was trying to escape from its pupil. "Tell me."

"I can't answer your question." Alfredo shook his head, and Rowan suddenly stood up.

"Do you not know?" Rowan uttered, and Alfredo shook his head, refusing to elaborate further. Once again, a glance into his eyes suggested an answer between, and it was either that Rowan's judgment was getting rusty, or something else was at play.

Judgment this, judgment that, who could stay calm in such a situation?

"So you do know." Rowan raised their voice, putting a hand on Alfredo's shoulder and inching closer, grinding their teeth. "Where are they?"

One of Alfredo's bug-like eyes ventured towards his left, quickly snapping back into position. With a sudden tremble moving through his body, Rowan let go, their expression forming into something they couldn't even describe.

"I can't tell you if I know," Alfredo muttered. "It's something-"

All of a sudden, both of Rowan's hands landed on all the sheets that were spread across the table.

"What are you-" Alfredo uttered.

With one skilful tug and a kick landing right in Alfredo's stomach, they scrounged them up into one big pile and legged it through the empty halls.

Banging came from left and right at the split, but they kept running forward, their shoulders hitting both wooden doors, seeing as they swung open to reveal the sunlight intrusively bashing in.

Rowan clenched their jaw, and as their eyes managed to get accustomed to the sudden light, the impressive landscape of the entire city revealed itself.

Ruined towers and massive marble structures were built into the surrounding mountains. A fountain that didn't work anymore, squares where no people could be seen, and that garden no one took care of.

Above all else, there was one more thing. Every citizen Rowan saw while passing through found themselves treading the steps up the formation and towards the empty cathedral on the foothill.

Rowan turned right, seeing as the horse they had brought here was being forcefully taken away by one of the Beastmen, who instead vowed to stare right down at the Tributal.

All of them shared the same, intense gaze. One that could speak volumes regarding the phrase "you're not welcome here," but Rowan chose to focus on another explanation instead. They all appeared possessive and unwilling to let go.

After all, the Tributal could've promised to become a perfect being and save the people who helped him. Even if it was all washed-up slop that was worse than your common Paladian witchtale...

...Rowan heard their Chicho's name.

"I believe your mind missed out on one crucial detail, Tributal," Alfredo uttered, his words often halted by heavy breaths along the way, as their bloodied body moved towards the sunlight. "Although, I can't blame you. I kept that selfishness to myself because I knew you'd run for miles if you knew every Beastman you see here..."

Alfredo signalled with his hand, clenching it into a fist.

"...believes in the same sacrifice. One way or another, we're going to reach that humanity we longed for since the beginning." Alfredo shook his head. "You would never understand, Tributal. You were just like everyone else all along. It was never about us in the end, but you...!" he pointed.

Rowan took a step back.

"I'm not going to let some puny human like you take that opportunity away." Alfredo shook his head.

Rowan breathed out, one hand landing on their back. "Name's Rowan."

With another instantaneous tug, they ripped the bow out of its sheath, the arrow landing inside. A fiery blast appeared, only for it to be absorbed by Alfredo's eye, sending the Beastman back into the puddle of blood he already created on his way to the exit.

Rowan slowly turned, seeing all the Beastmen turning angry. Perhaps, revealing their true nature, but Rowan had no time to argue. He didn't hate them, that's for sure, but they hated him as much as one would despise demons.

Hope was something that shouldn't have been taken away. Love requires sacrifice.

"But once you've crossed the line." Rowan's revealed their ground teeth, readying another strike. "Don't expect to be forgiven!"

Their eye twitched once more.

...and as Rowan made their way down the mountain, skilfully using their elbow to maim the opponents, sending various other strikes of fire, clearing the path out of Halesdeep, the sun started setting in the distance.

It illuminated the town with an orange, sinister glow. However, if it wasn't for everything already being on fire from the chaos, the moon's rise would mean that everything went dark.

Amongst that murk, stood Rowan, holding their bow and arrow, breathing out heavily. As its sharp end lit up once more, they stared at the ground, frustrated.

They wanted to scream but found no courage to do so. Within all the enemies lying on the sides, Rowan tumbled to the ground.

***

"The perfect vessel?" Olala asked, calmly.

"I thought it was quite stupid at first. Parents always told me these gruesome stories of Tributals scarring all their body parts and then-"

"I know what Sin Sacrifice is, Koyote," Olala muttered. "But my father was a Haran."

"I guess you can thank that lunatic-like cult, then." Koyote scoffed. "Whatever it was, I never understood his words. He teased me about it at least thirteen times for the next two weeks, then it gradually faded into simple reminders. I thought it was positive. I did enjoy the smiles your father gave me. Seeing him made me happy and I guess vice versa. Even my parents stopped caring after a while. Maybe it was in one of his books or just another way to thank the deities for the fortunes of that day?" she shrugged. "As I said though, he became silent later on."

Olala moved back.

"Dakarai kept going about his business. Common trips around Harabara, supposedly spreading the good word. He always came back with some items that helped our village tremendously, and as time went on people managed to move out into other parts of the Mainland because of his help. Those who remained were a few Harans and my family, but we didn't think of going anywhere else," she recalled. "I was about twenty-one and recently met a passerby Haran. He'd come back to our village now and then and some things would escalate into..." she gulped, almost theatrically. "Intense kissing and hugging." she mouthed those words instead of saying them and Olala rolled her eyes. "Don't make me say it."

"I'd rather you get to the point."

"There are a lot of things that make up that point!" she clapped her hands. "Maybe it was the fact that I focused a little too much on Nassin that some things went completely under my radar. I recall my parents saying something about Dakarai wanting to write a book, so there was that, but the weight of his words never really came back to me until one day."

Koyote fixed her hat.

"We wanted to go to the library to get a few books for the night. Instead of Dakarai's face welcoming us inside, I spotted him elsewhere, on a hill further away from our village. He was talking to someone, and now that I know a bit more than I did ten years ago, the man standing to his right was none other than bloody Bancho."

"Bancho...?" Olala asked.

"He was probably just doing something in the Nya village. You lived with your mother back then and-"

"I remember." Olala stopped. "He saved us from a bunch of demons." she raised a finger.

"His coat was bloodied." Koyote continued. "So I guess Dakarai was lucky enough to receive a kind word or two. Maybe introducing him to some way of thinking, I'd never know. I didn't hear anything they said, Nassin was dragging me back home even if I was curious."

Olala nodded.

"But I did see him turn. His gaze met mine for a few seconds. It was cold and rather... uninviting."

"Take care of yourself, first and foremost. There's surely another way out of your troubles." Bancho uttered.

"I can't possibly stray away from what I believe in, Mr Bancho." Dakarai shook his head.

"You might be on your own, then."

"I began seeing something changing in Dakarai," Koyote recalled. "Ever since that day, your father stopped being the kind librarian he once was. Nassai moved in, my parents took another vacant house, and he'd lock himself for days inside that damn library. Do you remember ever sending him letters all that time ago?" Koyote continued.

"A few times, but he'd never answer," Olala muttered. "Mum told me to stop trying."

"It would seem like your father stopped caring about anything in this world in the slightest. Only after a year did I see him step out. He looked as perfect as on any other day. Hands tucked inside pockets and shirt straightened without any irrational folds and whatnot. He came bearing one book in his hand, proudly showing it to the few villagers around."

"Wakon," he uttered, raising his hands into the sky.

"When did your mother pass away?" Koyote asked, and Olala was taken aback, halting a breath.

"Six years ago," she muttered.

"...and how did she die?" Koyote continued.

"The Nya village was set on fire," she replied.

"What a coincidence. My parents died in the same way,"

***

A scream was what sounded at the same moment blood was spilt in the casino. Everyone halted, turning from various games, abruptly throwing down cards on green cloths or letting go of dice, as they spun around before stopping at threes or sixes.

One table was flipped over, followed by other various noises. All music that vividly filled the ears of the customers, the wealthy, the poor, and anyone inside the Gambino trading hall was instead replaced with heavy huffing somewhere near one of the more open halls.

With about three hundred silver left in Ingo's hand, he turned to the other, as blood kept dropping from an open wound on his chin and finding its way down onto his cupped palm. Genni stood back, shocked. Her gaze focused on the other figure, standing with the same grin as before.

Only this time, it seemed that their eyes were smaller. Hakate stepped around the ruined table, his boot crashing it in two, followed by a fearful yell.

Genni took another paralyzing step back, turning to one woman holding a chair in both hands.

"Round two, Morians," Hakate muttered, flipping Victis around nonchalantly, his other hand busy with his chain-hook. "Gamble with your life instead. If all you can do is run from the fight, maybe there's no winner in this conflict other than the solemn truth, eh, Ingo?" he raised Ingo's destroyed chin, as his furious eyes met his. "You seem to understand my words."

Genni suddenly ran, smashing the wooden object in Hakate's face, pushing him away and tugging at Ingo. The other Morian got back to his senses, hands landing on the bat, ready to swing.

"No!" Genni uttered. "There's people here!"

Ignoring her words, Ingo screamed, running forward, leaping, and as the club hit the ground, a shockwave was sent through, reaching Hakate and knocking more people around.

"Exactly what you're made of, Ingo." Hakate spouted out in the middle of a cough. "Exactly what you Demonears pride in. Hurting everyone around you!"

Hakate got back to his feet and struck with his weapon. Genni jumped to the floor, while its hook stuck itself inside a nearby pillar. Hakate pulled, ripping some of the stones out, as they tumbled next to Genni, hitting her face. Afterwards, he swang once more, spinning at crazy speeds, jumping over the destroyed table and kicking Ingo's face.

"Round two seems for another winner!" Hakate screamed out, bowing. "Won't you agree, my dear audience? Who do you bet on wins this brawl? The fair, or the ugly?"

The people surrounding the Morians looked at each other. Genni's gaze met the woman who passed her the chair in the middle of combat. She quickly turned around to the others, and while at first, she was hesitant, her expression shifted.

Hands quickly found themselves searching for Silver in their pockets, followed by quiet discussions.

Genni breathed in, her eyes shrinking.

They wouldn't care. They wouldn't take their weapons away if it meant they were to receive money, and Hakate would only find pleasure in hurting the two. If there was something to be received, they wouldn't mind that one could die or get seriously hurt.

The fearful stares changed into determined outlooks. Blood on the ground was dismissed, its colour mixing with the rug, and money was thrown into the ring.

They didn't care.

Genni didn't want to either. With a tough eye and a clenched jaw, she looked forward, breathing in, and then whipped the boomerang out of her pocket, right as Hakate came up to Ingo once more. He raised his head with his hand before slamming it into the bricks that made the floor.

"Giving up? Already, Ingo?" Hakate asked, repeating the action multiple times. "Don't you care to entertain your crowd?!"

"You... bastard!" Ingo slammed the ground again, as a small tornado went through a pile of people before unfortunately disappearing around the constantly moving Hakate, who slashed right back into view.