The city of Onyxfell rose as it did.
The early-risers prepared for their days as usual.
A number of citizens, however, prepared in different ways than was usual for them.
A trio of gladiators—Furia Vedrix, Arquillia Tullas, and Plautia Cornuta—lingered near the southern end of D-five's Victory Avenue. They awaited the coffee-seeker, thinking this would be the day they caught him and demanded he teach the movement technique which Laberia Salonina had demonstrated to great effect the day prior.
Placus Quinctius Perennis, a boy who lived in D-four near the southern side, hoped to see the strange, funny man rolling through the street again that morning.
The greens tenders of D-three readied the armaments they'd brought out of storage to deal with the disheveled man who had destroyed so much of their hard work.
Gaius Manlius Octobrianus, one of D-three's most prolific shit-talkers, was fast asleep next to his lover, Carvilia Ivmara.
Laberia Salonina, also known as Discutrix Gladiorum and one of the strongest, most well-regarded active gladiators, remained at home this morning, foregoing her usual training. She'd found Victory in her match the previous day, but she'd also had a bewildering encounter with someone she had never expected to see again. Scorpio Fulminis had sought her out after her Victory over Rex Hastarum in order to apologize. She intended to spend the day now reflecting on the event that, as far as she was aware, had never before occurred.
Canus Caerellius Crispian, a bitter armor shop owner, was also at home. His face was swollen to the point that one of his eyes was fully obscured, and he was generally miserable.
Clodia Tiberina, who had once been known as Pugnus Lapidis, had overseen one of the Char hero's drones while it repaired the wall of her shop the day prior, and she was now putting the last few items in their places so she could resume selling her wares. The drones had been odd to adjust to in the early years, but they were commonplace now to the point that most people had memorized the scheduled times when the strange machines would patrol their streets and perform repairs on roads and buildings where it was warranted.
The coffee-seeker rose as well. On this irregular morning, he again turned north, his nose turned to the sky as he scented his prey. He set off at a slow walk which quickly became a fast walk and then a jog before returning to a walk once more, his pace never remaining consistent for long.
He arrived, miraculously, without incident at Ientaculum, the shop of Titus Septimius Bibulus, where he offered two ten-marks as payment and refused to accept anything in return, instead staggering over to a stool at one of the small tables inside after firmly speaking a single word.
As time passed and it became evident that the coffee-seeker's rampage would not descend upon the city this day, the citizens of Onyxfell began to feel that this was an omen.
Nothing ever vanished in the City of Wrath.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
Be it a legendary gladiator who had once sought nothing besides Victory, a hero who remained anonymous despite craving fame and attention, a girl whose entire life had been founded on fear, a magical being that craved sex, or a man who had once loved playing games, this city had a way of returning all things to their origins.
The City of Wrath was, in truth, a newer name for Onyxfell, a city that had existed for over a thousand years.
A city that had once been known as Bloodfall.
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Volcatia hefted the giant gladius the latest rift spawn had left behind, adding it to the clipeus and ensiculus they'd found previously. "That one looked better," she called.
"Can't believe I'm getting martial arts lessons in a freaking game," Carl grumbled. "How come you never do any fighting? I'm just supposed to follow you around killing these things because you say so?"
She grinned under her bandanna. "You say that like you don't enjoy being ordered around by a beautiful woman like me," she teased.
He reminded her of someone she'd never see again.
Just a little.
What a weird day.
She hadn't felt this human in a long time.
"Awfully full of yourself," he said, rebuking her just as she'd expected.
Expected, but not known.
"Somebody has to carry all this shit around."
Another powerful-looking rift spawn appeared behind Carl, this one with the head of a dragon and the body of something else with fur and claws. It exploded and ceased to exist before he noticed, just as so many had before it.
"Just being considerate of your delicate ten million Strength," she added.
Carl chuckled, the first time he'd done so since she'd made her mistake. "You know, if you hadn't knocked me on my ass like that, I'm not sure I'd have believed it."
"Welcome to Onyxfell," she said sarcastically. "Having fun now?"
"Actually, I kinda am," he replied, unaware that a massive rift spawn capable of consuming him in a single bite had briefly crackled and then vanished just over his head as he spoke. "How'd you do that, anyway?"
"Mm?"
"When I tried to punch you before."
"I punched you first," she said, amused as she so often was by his questions. "It was so fast you couldn't even see it."
"Uh-huh. And how much Agility or whatever do you have to be able to do that?"
"Enough."
Carl sighed as he'd done so many times already. "You're really making it hard to like you."
Volcatia's smile fell from her face, and she shrugged.
He was interesting, yeah, but she felt her interest fading the more he talked about this sort of thing.
"Another one behind you." She pointed.
Rift spawns always appeared from behind ready to fight.
They had been fun for that reason.
They weren't fun anymore though.
Carl killed yet another rift spawn with his fist.
His technique was better.
Not that it really mattered.
She had other things she could be doing in her city, but a deal was a deal.
So long as she'd found something that interested her, everyone else would wait.
This was her time now.