The overworld was supposed to represent the clean part, the proper figure and the expected appearance of the landscape, its fragrance and its inhabitants. In other words: the overworld was merely the idealized representation of the world where humanity dreamt of colonizing and making it its own.

As for everything else that wasn’t beautiful, noble or correct, it was all dumped in the underworld like some undesired dust we throw under the carpet, hoping it’ll never bother us again.

But everytime, like some sort of chemicals we’re all aware of yet still believe we can simply ignore and it’ll disappear like that, it does come back at us.

Either in the form of assassin’s guilds or the infamous name of the Broker, the ugly face of humanity keep sprouting back at the surface like weed and parasites, corrupting its foundation and altering the very notions of what seems normal in today’s society.

What seems normal in society is the presence of frauds and legal anomalies, never ridden of for their presence actually brought wealth to the city, just like some sort of fertilizer. Certainly toxic, yet fairly profitable.

Today, this lax behaviour was the cause of the current uproar. Today, the acceptance of those weeds brought a catastrophe.

Breathing heavily, the man was desperately running away from this place. Behind him, he could still hear the cries of the less fortunate who couldn’t escape faster. Well, fortunate enough to live another day, that is.

He still couldn’t believe it, for such a thing to happen in the underworld.

Sure, everyday had its own share of problems, but it never crossed his mind that a monster could pop from the entrance and ravage everything in its path.

Fire-lances were useless against that thing, not even the traps prepared in case of a creature attempting to invade could stop it.

Nobody managed to interrupt its rampage, not even this useless ex-foe of monsters.

Everything seemed futile here. So, being the smart man he was, he decided to just buzz off from here.

Easier said than done, there was actually a long way separating the underworld from the overworld, but once he was out of here he could just lock the door behind him and forget about everything.

Sucking it up, he pressed forward with his torch in hand, alas his endurance couldn’t allow him to run as fast as he did before.

He took a look behind him to check just how far away he was from the uproar. Far enough to not see anything more, and also far enough to not hear anything anymore.

Did… Did someone actually slew the monster? Or maybe…

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Not going to place any bet, he continued on his journey to the surface. Perhaps he’ll even be able to share the tale with some random listeners once he hit the tavern in the next district.

They’ll probably question him about many things, however, anything was better than dying here because of a bloodthirsty monster.

A loud clang reverberated behind, as if a heavy piece of metal was brutally thrown on the ground.

“Was it the beast?” he had the time to think before being pinned against the cobblestones, letting go of the torch.

The shock left him speechless, but feeling his body being clawed made him hurl in agony.

His vision was shaky due to the pain, yet his eyes managed to get a blurry picture of his assailant.

Human, feathers and talons, it was undoubtedly the harpy who destroyed the base he left behind.

Whimpering in fear, the man tried to grab the harpy’s leg, but failed to possess the strength to repel her.

To cease his irritating resistance, the harpy pressed on the man’s torso, torturing her victim and making him endure a severe pain.

It is said that, with sufficient experience, one can recognize a specific member of a specie. For example, a person familiar with cats could easily identify his own pet among a pack. In spite of the fur being the same colour and shape, there was still a little something to make the specimen unique among its congenerates.

However, to Philad’s wrathful gaze, all humans looked the same.

Disgusting, selfish, sinful beings roaming a world they thought they conquered, plundering and massacring as they see fit in order to fulfil this so called world peace.

Everytime her eyes met a human, the memories resurfaced. After some time, she managed to cool down her emotions to some extent, to a sufficient level to seduce one of them and try to create an offspring.

But here… Here, she met only sinners, murderers and liars.

Everytime, the same memories resurfaced; one of a village razed to the ground, one of a neighbour crying for his life, one of...

“Please! Don’t kill me!”

… The human dared to.

However, the phrase was familiar to Philad. She’d already heard it, during the attack. Many times. Too many.

And everytime her kin begged for their life, the answer was always the same.

“No mercy…

For…

Monsters…”

Its head was crushed under her feet, silencing at last the noisy wailing of this pitiful being.

Now that the deed was done, the humans living in this place under the surface slaughtered, Philad could focus on the oddity that picked her interest.

Down here, for some reasons that eluded her, a familiar smell lingered in the air.

She cautiously moved forward, certain of the absence of any survivors on her way, until her eyes were set on a heavy-looking door frame. Unfortunately unable to pivot the handle, she simply smashed her way out in a loud bang. It’ll probably attract some undesired attention.

But the ceiling appeared quite high from here, maybe she could fly up there and hide for the time being? It was spacious enough for her to deploy her wings, and despite the ramshackle the upper area could easily serve as a decent hideout once she gets used to the bats and the big bells.

Philad slipped through the window and stepped on the steep roof of the tower to better observe her new surroundings. From the top of the old building, she could count the stars as if they were within her grasp. But unlike the constellations shining above the world, the lights originated from the ground in an orderly yet unnatural fashion.

Standing atop metallic poles, they brightly glowed, illuminating the stone road where she discerned many silhouettes walking without a concern about the night. Another privilege humans crafted for themselves.

Dismissing the current situation, Philad inhaled the air to try and catch the previously familiar smell.

It was there, somewhere in that direction. This colloquial feeling, drenching her soul with nostalgia and worry.

Somewhere in that human castle, the smell of her kin resided.