They had finally reached the main city.
The fresh green grasslands slowly gave way to buildings, gates, and worn roads.
The caravan came to a stop outside a large, shabby-looking dark building.
"Is the whole city like this?" Mortis asked curiously.
The caravan driver—Gunther—shook his head.
"No. These are just the outskirts. You need a permit to enter the central district."
Mortis tilted his head. "A permit? From who?"
Gunther hesitated.
"…The Temple of the Earth holds dominion over the center. You'll need their approval."
"I see…" Mortis said quietly.
He stepped down from the caravan.
"Well, thank you for bringing us here."
Tears welled up in Gunther's eyes.
He bowed so low his nose nearly touched the floor.
"The honor is mine, my Lord."
Mortis paused for a moment… then turned away.
Malachai followed closely behind him.
Blossom clung tightly to his hand.
"Where now?" Mortis muttered.
"You may choose, my Lord," Malachai replied.
Mortis glanced down.
Blossom pointed excitedly at the large, shabby building.
"…Alright," Mortis sighed.
They stepped inside.
The place was packed.
A bar. A meeting hall. A fight club—all fused into one chaotic space.
People filled every corner.
Some wore masks.Some hid under hoods.Some dressed in strange, vibrant colors.Others wore little more than rags.
For once—
Mortis, Malachai, and Blossom blended in perfectly.
Mortis looked around, wide-eyed.
"There's no age limit here…?"
His gaze suddenly snapped to one corner.
"…Is that a half-man, half-bull?"
He turned to Malachai—
—but Malachai wasn't there.
"Malachai?"
No response.
"Malachai!"
Blossom's grip tightened around his hand.
The crowd surged.
They were pushed, jostled—carried along by the movement of bodies until Mortis stumbled back against a wall.
He looked up.
He was standing at the base of a massive fighting stage.
Two figures stood upon it.
One of them… barely looked human.
It had the body of a man—but the head of a bull.
Not a mask.
Real.
Mortis could clearly see where the thick black fur ended and human skin began.
It wore a toga stretched tight across its massive frame.
Its opponent was the complete opposite.
A tall woman, radiant in silver.
Her hair flowed like liquid light.Her eyes shimmered.Even her skin seemed to glow.
She was… almost unreal.
Like a star had taken human form.
In her hand rested a curved blade—
a crescent moon forged in silver.
A loud blast echoed through the arena.
She moved.
Fast.
Like a wildcat lunging at its prey.
The crowd erupted into cheers.
"Who is that?" Mortis asked the thin man beside him.
"The woman?" the man smirked. "That's Lapsus. She never loses."
And it showed.
She fought like something beyond human.
Every movement was fluid—
a dance of steel and light.
She flowed like water,struck like wind,vanished and reappeared like a flicker of light.
Mortis glanced down.
Blossom stared at her, completely mesmerized.
He chuckled softly and gently pushed her jaw closed.
"A fly might get in if you keep it open."
Blossom nodded absentmindedly… and went right back to staring.
Moments later—
the fight ended.
The crowd roared.
Lapsus stood victorious.
The bull-man was carried away on a stretcher as people jeered.
Lapsus stepped down from the stage gracefully.
The crowd parted for her without hesitation.
"Well…" Mortis said, looking down.
"That was—"
Blossom wasn't there.
"…fun."
Mortis froze.
Blossom was already running.
Her thin limbs flailed as she sprinted toward Lapsus like her life depended on it.
"HEY—!"
Mortis took off after her.
Blossom skidded to a stop in front of Lapsus—
and grabbed her robes.
Lapsus startled.
"What are you—?"
Blossom looked up at her.
Eyes shining.
Full of devotion.
"Please… teach me your ways."