Frederick exhaled a long breath thick with alcohol. He stared up at the ceiling letting the alcohol wash over his senses, numbing the sorrow.

  Perhaps this was a silver lining for his friend’s family, his father had other children after all, maybe that’s how the gang saw it. They could take a cut of the funeral fees.

  His shoulders lumped as he sighed once more.

  “The problem begins when they delivered the bride’s corpse in pieces to her mother, the father was out, he’s a black farmer. Her daughter’s death hit her hard, they were poor, but they were a loving family, she couldn’t handle seeing her in pieces. Something broke inside of her. Even as numbed to death as we all are.”

  Frederick found his cup empty and without him saying anything Ilven asked for a refill.

  “She was weeping for days, her screams echoed in the nearby houses, but no one dared complain. They all knew her plight. Eventually grief took her, the father came back but it was already too late. When he was out he had a lick of luck and found a piece of buried spiritual wood, he offered it to the overseers and they paid him in copper coins, overjoyed and wanting to surprise his family, knowing his daughter was freshly married, he bought a lot of food and some items for luck and prosperity, alas, when he got home what he saw was his wife’s stiff corpse and the rotting pieces of his daughter. Only his mother left alive.”

  Ilven could imagine the pain he had felt, he went through something similar with his parents, but fate was a lot crueler to this poor family.

  “The man was shocked, he learned the situation from neighbors, but he didn’t cry, he didn’t break down or anything, he burnt his wife and his daughter’s rotten corpse pieces into ash himself after paying the fee to do so. His mother was injured while doing a job on the outside for a scavenger a few years ago, she was cured but not fully she still has dizzy spells and drifts in and out of a coma, she didn’t know about what happened, he tried to avoid telling her but she eventually found out, she too died from grief, they were a close family. Still even then he did not cry but he had no money to bury her so he took to the streets begging to anyone who would listen to help.”

  Took to the streets?

  Ilven recalled the man he saw when he came back.

  Was it him?

  Frederick continued the story, “If that was the end maybe they would just be one of many tragedies, but it didn’t stop there. A certain benefactor gave the man some coin to bury his mother, more than enough, it attracted the Red Dog gang’s attention when they did their final rounds before the Crimson Night…”

  A benefactor, so it was him… wait, it couldn’t be!? Ilven realized what was about to happen.

  “…they got greedy, they attempted to rob they man, but he wouldn’t budge no matter how hard they beat him, they tried to forcefully pluck away the money after crushing his hands but he didn’t allow it, he swallowed the coins, thus in their fury they violated the taboo, they beat him to death, he died on the eve of the Crimson Night. He was found by neighbors bleeding out with his daughter’s and wife’s ashes held tightly in his hands, nestled atop his dead mother.”

  “Those fools!” Ilven couldn’t help but curse, breaking his calm demeanor.

  The Crimson Night affected both beasts and humans but humans more so due to their intelligence. It was long preached by the church that the stronger the resentment the more likely an evil spirit would be formed on the Crimson Night.

  That man was definitely seething with resentment after what he has gone through, rightfully so. When the gates of hell opened last night, he must’ve transformed into an evil spirit!

  “So, the evil spirit attacked, what happened next?” Ilven hurriedly asked. An evil spirit loose in the shelter was a very serious matter and cause for concern to all.

  “They were scared, all those present, but morning came to save them, scourges truly live forever, they ran back to report to their leader who was furious at their actions, he punished all of them and immediately locked down the block going to meet with the Seven Sons. He gave a hush order to not spread the news.”

  Frederick finished the harrowing tale leaving Ilven simmering with the weight of the information.

  Evil spirits were not like desolate beasts, they had a craving for human blood and spirit, Old Wugou always said it’s better to be in bed with a known danger than an unknown terror.

  Ilven even briefly pondered leaving the shelter to hide out in the wilderness until the blood moon faded but the recent heightened activity of various species due to the beast lords made this impossible.

  I swear, if it isn’t one thing it’s another, inside and out.

  Ilven looked over to Frederick who was enjoying his drink and suddenly realized something, how exactly did he obtain such detailed information?

  It all happened a few hours ago but not only did he know, he was aware of the sequence of events leading up to it as well.

  To be honest, he always looked down on his age peers, even his professional peers were a mixed batch but now he couldn’t help but see Frederick in a new light.

  Was he always this capable? Ilven couldn’t help but wonder.

  Seeing Ilven looking at him, Frederick chuckled.

  “Wanna hear more? It’ll cost ya.” Fredick rubbed his fingers back to his joyful upbeat self, shaking off the depression.

  There’s more?

  Ilven straightforwardly tossed him a bag of kimber.

  This was chump change to him now. And information regarding the evil spirit was very important.

  Frederick felt the weight of the bag in his hands and didn’t bother checking.

  “I was worried you see, who wouldn’t be? it’s been a while since any evil spirits were born, not in our lifetime at least, the most that happened was a few spooky things or ghastly conditions that are altogether harmless. I guessed they would go to the church, and I was right, I eavesdropped and heard the priest talking, there are different kinds of evil spirits just like desolate beasts. This one he is still capable of handling, but it’ll cost a lot, not only that but the Seven Sons and Red Dogs have to a pay a fine for causing the issue in the first place.”

  It was their fault that they didn’t control their subordinates, they have been rampant in the shelter for a while so it was good riddance.

  As a friend of the departed stained with misfortune, Fredick was glad. Not only them but he also personally knew many who suffered at the hands of the Red Dog Gang.

  If he didn’t know the truth about Priest Louis being as dirty as both parties, then he would have even gone to praise the white sun for inflicting pain where it hurt for those bloodsuckers, but he knew better.

  That greedy bastard was cut from the same cloth as those he was extorting, it was simply a shakedown, and he didn’t actually care about the misfortune of the dead.

  At this point even Ilven was swept up in the somber mood and ordered a few more drinks. They continued talking for a while.

  “I’ve never heard you be called Great Fisherman Frederick. What’s with that? There are no fish in the waters nearby.” Ilven suddenly remembered this particular nickname after Frederick teased him again as a zombie who couldn’t die.

  Being the same age, Frederick knew a lot of people who went out hoping to strike it big but most never came back or were scared into submission not daring to take the wilderness lightly anymore.

  Ilven was the only person he knew who could be called successful, not just his age but in general and he knew a lot of people, Grey Tulip might seem big at first but the longer you spent there you smaller it was.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  “Ah that, it’s just for chicks. I’m not that bad looking and girls like my vibe.” He said shamelessly. He expected Ilven to follow up then he could expound on his various exploits but to his chagrin Ilven didn’t ask any more questions regarding this, instead,

  “Do you know where Galdor or Fenri is right now?” Ilven suddenly thought the upcoming chaos might not be a bad thing for him.

  The evil spirit would definitely strike tonight on the second night of the blood moon, the militia, seven sons and even the gang would be too busy to interfere in his affairs.

  “Yea. It’s a small place, I even know that Old Wugou’s got black finger birthmark on his left cheek.”

  Frederick patted his chest reassuring him.

  That, I didn’t need to know. Ilven eyebrows twitched. He even wondered if it was true, he hadn’t seen the old man naked, nor did he want to.

  Ilven collected the info then left after saying goodbye.

  Frederick watched him leave.

  The Cockroach Wolf.

  I didn’t think much about him before except that we were the same age and you’re a good potential stock but you’re more amazing than I thought, especially if you’re about to do what I think you are.

  He and Ilven had met by chance, honestly, they didn’t have the same interests and Ilven didn’t act his age so it was an oddity they ever intersected, if Grey Tulip wasn’t so small perhaps they would have never crossed paths.

  Frederick was ambitious and wasn’t content with staying in the slums forever, his dreams were stacked higher, even Grey Tulip couldn’t contain them. He initially started this job as an info broker due to frequently overhearing a lot of gossip after he was done performing his songs and saw the opportunity to make some extra money.

  In such a small place, although he was confident in his lyrical genius, his paths to progression were basically blocked so he branched out, it turned out he was quite good at both jobs and he has made quite a bit of money to support himself and his family.

  Many friends led to many paths, so he made an effort to have a lot of friends waiting for a surprise one day. He had two surprises before and made a lot of money, but he never expected to meet a third, and this one might actually be the jackpot.

  He decided to get closer to Ilven going forward.

  ***

  Ilven followed Frederick’s information to Galdor and Fenri’s hideouts, but they were not home. Despite this Grey Tulip was small so he actually knew where one of them was but unfortunately, he couldn’t get to them so easily, so he made his way home.

  He leisurely entered their courtyard and at that moment,

  Boom!

  Boom!

  A series of explosions rang out.

  What!

  Ilven quickly drew his secondary pistol, within the shelter the security wasn’t so airtight nor was he trusting enough to not travel with his weapons.

  A shadowy figure flew out in his direction, recognizing the face Ilven quickly made a move, out of the way.

  He rushed inside the house. He saw seven figures holding weapons taking a combative stance.

  “What’s going on?” He aimed at the mostly unknown invaders in his house, one hand grasping a knife.

  “You… Cockroach wolf! It’s all your fault! Hand over everything you have, and I’ll grant you and this old man an easy death, otherwise I’ll make you wish you were dead!”

  There the crazed squad leader from the Red Dog gang stood with bloodshot eyes, a missing arm and several open wounds decorating his body.

  In front of him was a kneeling Old Wugou cradling little egg in his arms, his clothes tattered, bleeding from his forehead and torso.

  Time goes back to an hour ago.

  Old Wugou hummed a tune as he prepared a lavish meal for today’s dinner.

  The retired scavenger had gone all out with the ingredients, spending at once what they usually did in months, but it would be worth it in the end.

  “Huhu, that kid has definitely forgot, he probably doesn’t even know. I’ll give him the best birthday he’s had in years, one to remember!”

  “Wi!” Stupid Egg echoed.

  “Haha, so you agree too little egg.” Old Wugou laughed heartily and rubbed her round head.

  In truth as refugees, they never had the opportunity to celebrate birthdays, that was reserved for wealthy folk, but they had come into some wealth now and while it wasn’t good to splurge or draw attention, they were on the eve of Black Rock’s recruitment so some things wouldn’t be so suspicious.

  He was excited to surprise Ilven and wanted to give him something to remember fondly, that child had too many bad memories. He wanted to replace them would some good ones.

  “The kid definitely doesn’t know I know.” The old man couldn’t help but chuckle to himself feeling quite pleased.

  Ilven had never told him about his birthday, but once they had come into contact with a certain plant before, the Thornsuckle Weed. This plant’s defense mechanism had a peculiar quirk that he happened to know, the tiny thorns on the spike balls it used to deter visitors actually changed to represent one’s age when attacked.

  When he was still in training Ilven was attacked by this plant and screamed out in pain for days with the thorns lodged inside his flesh.

  It was a good memory when looking back, Ilven always wore a twisted expression as if someone owed him money and the pain shattered that visage, each thorn represented a day you had lived, he had been curious, so he went through the trouble of counting them all after he plucked out the remainder from Ilven so he found out his exact age.

  It would definitely be a good surprise!

  The old man continued to hum joyfully with Stupid Egg at his feet battling a large plush toy Mrs. Grass made for her, Mrs. Grass loved Stupid Egg a lot and threatened to kidnap her whenever she visited.

  Unbeknownst to Old Wugou, some unwelcome visitors were on their way to the house.

  "Galdor are you sure about this? You'll really help me escape?" Barrel studied Galdor warily, his intact arm trembling slightly, exhaustion and pain evident in his bearing.

  "Believe me, I will. It'll just cost a lot, so you need money." Galdor traced the scars on his metal arm as he spoke, eyes glinting with malice. "We both know it's hard to travel in the wilderness without protection, that protection doesn't come cheap. It just so happens that the kid has a lot of money. You kill him for me as a favor, then you take his money as travel expenses. You'll probably still have a lot left even. It's a win for everybody."

  Barrel glanced at his two subordinates and the few friends who owed him favors. His earlier encounter with Ilven flashed in his mind, making him hesitate.

  "Huh? Are you having second guesses?" Galdor's voice dropped lower, taking on a predatory edge. "Think about it. Cullen likes to use red ant larvae and honey to torture his victims, eating their flesh bit by bit while still alive, then he gives them his bone eating powder to crush their bones, doing his best to make them regret crossing him. You also have a wife and kids to take care of unlike the other two. You don't have a choice but to run while you can. I broke you out to help you, and help you help me."

  Recalling the giant pistol he saw Ilven with, Barrel was conflicted. While rare sometimes the gang leader did spare his victims after punishment while they were never the same again, at least they were alive.

  Fighting with Ilven would result in at least two of them dying in the struggle. He glanced at the remainder of their trio; these bastards were unexpectedly loyal when it came down to it and followed him here.

  There was also the scowling drinking buddies and gambling friends he invited who came for him in this time of need. He was actually a bit touched they didn’t abandon him. Little did he know Galdor threatened them with broken limbs and they didn’t dare disobey.

  “I wasn’t going to tell you this since I thought it didn’t matter, but it’s actually that kid’s fault you are this way.” Galdor suddenly added seeing the hesitation in his eyes.

  The current situation leading to the unlikely combination of the trio from the Red Dog gang joining forces with Galdor was a result of a series of coincidences and self-inflicted disasters.

  Barrel and his trio were actually the ones responsible for the local secret headline, they pushed that family to the edge thereby creating the evil spirit. They were the ones who raided the house hoping the fleece the grieving father upon seeing his newfound wealth but the situation spiraled out of control.

  They had suffered greatly because of this, their leader Red Hand Cullen was severely pissed off that he had to pay such a high amount to get rid of the evil spirit, it was such a high amount that he didn’t execute them as per his regular tendencies. Instead, he resolved to torture them bit by bit until they broke down to satisfy his anger.

  Indeed, they had broken an unspoken rule and taboo. The more courageous and emotional the individual is, the less they should be targeted in any way on the verge of the crimson night. This was why Ilven had no qualms in donating such an amount to the tragic father-son back then, but he underestimated the greed of these gang members.

  It’s all that Seven Son’s bitch’s fault, he hasn’t even tried to help, we gave him that slut! He was the one who raped her! He told us to cut her up and send her to her family!

  Barrel's thoughts raged, his remaining hand clenching until the knuckles went white. These past few hours of daylight had been a living hell for him and his posse.

  He conveniently forgot their initial purpose was to do the same heinous act just before they thought of a way to curry favor with someone powerful.

  Moreover, the issue wouldn’t have catapulted to its current state were it not for them adding insult to injury and visiting the grieving sole survivor again in an attempt to fleece him one more time thinking he was bound to die anyways; they had seen cases like this before, in fact, they created them.

  The survivors almost always killed themselves, so they had no qualms doing this, but here they were up to their neck in shit.

  Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

  He remembered the screams he heard in the basement whenever their gang leader tortured anyone, how the toughest men buckled under the pain and begged to die, their sorry countenances, their ragged corpses, their bodies being tossed into a pile outside and burnt to ashes.

  He couldn’t afford to end up the same way, absolutely not. He still had a future ahead of him!

  “The kid gave a few coppers to the grieving father when he came back to bury his dead mother, think about it, he had spent all his money on the burials for his daughter and wife, if the kid hadn’t lent a hand then this situation never would have happened. You wouldn’t have fallen to this state!” In fact, Galdor didn’t see when Ilven donated coin to the father, he simply listened to Fenri and blamed it on him, but neither of them knew that they were actually right on the mark.

  “It was him?” Barrel bit his lip until it bled.

  Kill him.

  He must kill him.

  He must pay for what he has done!

  His own wrongdoings never registered in his mind, the only thought on his mind was that Ilven had caused all of this. He couldn’t hope for revenge against those who deserved it so he was quick to accept another target within his ability.

  “That fucker, I’ll kill him and that old man of his, they’re all dead!” Barrel let out a bellow of rage similar to what Galdor had done in the Greenstone Forest, the anger, frustration, confusion and fear had been bottled up inside for so long and found a channel to exit.