I have no idea what landmarks my parents use to navigate the streets of the undercity. However, their familiarity with the place shows that this isn’t the first time they ventured down here. Not by a long shot.

“Anyone hungry?” Dad asks out of the blue.

To be fair we haven’t eaten much today as the irritating shopping tour kept our minds occupied instead of listening to the body’s needs. With that said, I don’t want anything money can buy down here to drive off the hunger. I don’t need my stomach to commit suicide the next day.

“I’m fine.” I hold up my hands defensively.

“C’mon, it can’t be that much worse than anything we back in Solermo or in the forest. Aren’t you even a little curious?” Valka’s argument fails to convince me.

Mom elbows Dad and smiles. “Well, we can’t force her to eat if she doesn’t feel like it. Let’s just hope her appetite stays the same even after we leave.”

Bah, nice try, I’m not seven anymore. Pulling tricks like that have stopped working years ago.

They approach a demikin man with skunk-like stripes, nose, and tail, sitting on the ground with a small firepit next to him and the smell of brunt… something wafting the air. Beside him on almost rotting wooden planks are what look like squashed bread-crust with some kind of red sauce next to them.

He looks up as we approach and grunts.

“Three, spicy.” Dad answers as if this was a totally normal conversation. The man holds up four fingers but Dad gives him only fifteen bronze. “Do I look like this is my first time here?” He asks and the shady cook gets to work. “Forty my ass.”

The cook slaps a piece of metal over the fire that looks like it was scavenged from someone’s dead body and hasn’t been cleaned ever since. Some diced meat of questionable origin is pulled out from his loose clothes and slapped onto the metal, with some weird powder and the red source following right after. The recipe for a good stomach ache and a lot of time wasted on the toilet.

As soon as things look even remotely cooked, he scoops the mix into the bread and pulls out another sheet of metal, from Gods know where to squash the food between the two scrap metal.

I hate the lack of hygiene, the ingredients, the tool, the whole place, and the man looks like he’d spit into the food if we turned away, yet the smell… By the Abyss, the smell is incredible.

I gulp as we take the food and leave without another word. The others dig in and only Valka shows even the slightest of hesitation. And after the first crunchy bite with the juices and smell spilling everywhere… I start to regret my decision.

It’s just some food, Eli, you made your choice so now live with it. They’ll regret eating that next thing in the morning and how good could something made in the gutter taste? That could very well be rat meat.

Not even a minute goes by as the others eat and I keep on failing to tear my eyes away from the steaming hot and delicious-smelling food in their hands when Dad reaches his snack out to me. “Want a bite?”

Curiosity gets the best of me and I take him up on his offer. After some hesitation to show I haven’t changed my mind at all, I take a massive bite… The crust is crunch, the meat juicy and the spices almost too strong yet that almost is what makes my mouth begging for another bite.

“Give it back!” Dad tells me but I’m reluctant to part with the snack. “C’mon, you had your chance.” He mercilessly tries to pry the meal out of my hand so I take one more quick bite before he can succeed. “Don’t be a baby Eli, you had your chance.”

That was good stuff. It shouldn’t be… Just what vile magic is this?

I lick my lips and check my chances with the other two.

“Look, if you want one then here…” Dad drops four coppers into my palm. “Go get yourself one! We’ll wait here.” He smiles viciously.

Why can’t I just have simple parents who know ahead of time I’ll change my mind and decide for me? Okay, maybe we can split the blame since I had my chance to do a U-turn but they should know me by now. To top it off do they expect me to walk these filthy and dangerous streets all alone?

Just a glance at my father's face is enough to harden my resolve.

Less money, alone, no intimidation? I like my odds.

A scoff and frown are my way of taking the offer, or rather a challenge, and I make my way back to the street corner. Coming off confident is just as important as actual strength when dealing with the people living in the shadows of society. That’s an important truth I’ve learned in Solermo. And yet I don’t trust that wisdom enough to let my guard down for even one second.

I’m twitchy as hell and have to restrain myself whenever the kids playing nearby laugh too loud, or the man in the nearby alley reaches inside his cloak, or the sound of something collapsing comes from the vicinity.

Already in sight of the cook and his vomit kitchen, I tighten my grip on the little money on me and approach. That’s coincidentally when the kids playing what seems like tag change their course toward me and bump into me theatrically. The feline beastman brat falls over with an exaggerated scream as we collide and the farce is on. He hisses in pain and looks at me as if I just assaulted him out of nowhere.

All three of them are.

“You just broke his arm!” One of them steps into my face. “You pay for a healer, ya hear me?”

[Warrior lvl 45]

[Warrior lvl 56]

[Labourer lvl 41]

My initial surprise is instantly overshadowed by irritation.

This? Really? I almost feel embarrassed by how basic and moronic this whole situation is. Gang up on someone who’s definitely not from around these parts and extort money without even checking what we’re up against…

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Martha did teach me a lasting lesson when I pranked her following my first Class advancement. I learned to choose my opponents wisely. Now the roles are reversed and unlike her, I have no obligation to be lenient.

Although their levels are quite respectable, especially since they look to be about a year or two younger than me.

“Last chance to piss off before I actually break any of your arms.” I warn them in an emotionless tone and cold unblinking eyes.

I have done worse and I’m not proud of it but just because I’m still a tad bit scared inside does not mean I’m a pushover. This time I was kind enough to hint at what’s about to go down so I’ll feel pretty guilt-free. They are even around my age, or should be, so does this really count as bullying the weak if their weakness is their own fault?

These kids were raised by the streets down here, or at least know the ins and outs such as not showing weakness. Because the moment you do, you lose.

So instead of backing off after hearing my threat they double down and encircle me. I usually like to solve things using words, because one, even while wielding a language you can dish out a pretty hard beating, and two, dealing with the aftermath of a brawl is such a hassle.

I scoff just as the one to my right opens with a left swing right at my face. A quick step back and a bow forward let the fist fly over me harmlessly, before I gently kick the attacker's knee and flick him in the forehead playfully. A move inspired by Valka.

The next hoodlum tries to tackle me from behind but instead of moving aside I grab the earth beneath my feet and pull it sideways as if dragging a carpet. The nasty backstabber and his friend I just tripped up collide and leave only one of them gaping at me with wide eyes and sweat running down his face. The one who bumped into me.

He takes a step back and I follow, raising little bumps under his feet with every step to make him lose his footing as he backs away, like kicking a rock down the street. An ugly thieving rock. After the fourth stumble, the boy falls onto his ass and holds his trembling arms up to protect his face as if expecting a harsh beating.

I scoff. “What happened, I thought your arm was broken?” I step next to him and lean closer. “Want the accusation turned into reality?”

Even now I hear someone rushing my way as I belittle my opponent unsurprisingly. I’m presenting my back after all. Without looking back a flimsy pillar of earth springs up behind me, with pinpoint accuracy. It shoots up to about only waist-level but the pained squeal and thud of someone collapsing tells me the attack was devastating enough.

They are all boys after all.

But looking at them like this, dirty, hungry, and desperate, I’m reminded of the days Val and I spent in Solermo. We did what we had to even if we weren’t proud of it and survived relying only on each other…

I step closer to them and the kids flinch back, likely expecting a good beating. But instead, I simply reach into my pocket and drop four pieces of round metal at their feet. They need it more than I do.

“That literally all I have.” I look away, slightly embarrassed. “Get yourself something to eat or… whatever.” The three delinquents merely gawk at me so I turn to leave. “And next time use Identify. That’s one of the few things separating us from beasts. Now scram and don’t waste that money or I’ll find you and break your arms.”

There’s nothing more to be said.

Since the original mission is now impossible I retrace my steps back to the only people down here I trust.

***

“So, did things go smoothly?” Mom asks, still munching on the last bites of her food. “Or not, I guess.”

Wasn’t hard to guess since I’ve returned empty-handed. It’s a little irritating I’m not gonna lie, but I’ll chalk that up as my good deed for the week.

“Eh, I’m not that hungry anymore.” I shrug.

“You, not hungry?” Dad nearly chokes on his food that’s still mostly intact. I’d bet an arm he followed me. “Want a bite”?”

“I’m good. Let’s get that shopping done, I don’t want to spend a moment longer down here than necessary. It might be noisy above ground but at least it has sunlight and people there have the word clean in their vocabulary.” I grumble, trying to hide my smile after seeing how much they care for me.

Nobody disputes my proposal, because realistically who’d want to loiter around in the biggest slum in maybe the entire world just for fun? We’re on our way to what looks like the weirdest market I’ve ever seen. It’s made similarly to the Emporium in Granhall as this place also has multiple floors, in a sense. Clearly the architects here didn’t have access to proper materials to make something grand and stable so they had to get creative.

Instead of using pillars or the existing buildings as a base they used thick metal cords to to fix individual buildings or entire complexes to the ceiling and each other with suspension bridges. The blocks and cable create what looks like a huge spiderweb littered with rocks and many tiny bugs wiggling around.

As I stare at the architectural abomination ahead of me a shadow moves on the windowsill right next to my face. I only catch myself at the last second before blasting the entire wall to bits.

A cat.

A black cat merges with the darkness to the point where only its eyes are visible.

[Cat lvl 26]

By the Abyss, even the cats?

“It’s good to be on your guard, just don’t be too twitchy, we don’t want any trouble.” Mom chides me over her shoulder. “The people down here might be lawless but they have their own rules that we must follow.”

“We’re not going up there are we?” I ask. completely ignoring her words.

“That’s where the best deals are. That or on the lower layers.” She says then adds without the usual carefree attitude. “We don’t go there”

***

Although I never really liked heights, I wouldn’t say I’m afraid or anything to be on the top floor of a building. This time I’m scared shitless. The tower-like shop we used to access the spiderweb market was one thing, but when nothing but cables and prayers separated us from plunging down below…

Then there’s the part where the buildings sway slightly as their center of mass shifts with the people traveling around. I will pray for an earthquake to take down this hazard after we leave no matter the cost to human lives because, to be fair, there’s a good chance more people died using it throughout its existence anyway.

The first few shops sell magic gadgets, drugs, and weapons, unsurprisingly. The last two I can understand, both types of goods are highly regulated by laws and quite often used for untasteful business, however… what types of tools need to be sold in the slums to hide from the watchful eyes of the law? Just asking for a friend, I definitely don't want to inspect whatever inscriptions they hide.

There’s one more type of establishment I expected to see almost every corner in a place like this, servicing customers in one of the oldest professions there is. Not that I’m complaining or missing them, but where are the whorehouses? Isn’t this weird?

“What do you want?” Asks the shopkeeper girl maybe a year or two older than me with the attitude of an old hag. It looks like money also buys manners.

“Mana ink, anything above low quality, and regrowth quill if you have any.” Mom answers expertly as if she knew the stock of the shop already.

That seems like an impossible task since most of the goods aren’t even on the shelves and the ones that are are just piled there without a care.

The girl grunts and disappears to the back of the shop where her voice is soon joined by many others and after about a minute of scrapping later, she reappears with a bottle of dark liquid and a small tree in a pot.

“Sixty-two silver!” The girl dumps the goods onto the counter and demands her fee.

The price difference is already crazy, I would pay the money without a complaint, and yet Mom still throws herself in to haggle.

I still have much to learn from my parents.