“The year 2222 has arrived....”

“As of today, exactly 50 years has passed since the strange phenomenon of supernatural, underground pockets appearing all throughout our country and other countries, which we now refer to as dungeons. Let us have a solemn remembrance of the start of this occurrence that that had begun half a century ago...”

“...and still continue their erratic venture into alleyways, parks, forests, mountains, and cities all across the world. And sometimes, in the backyards of our own homes...”

The female announcer’s voice mixed with the cackling jitters of the television’s speakers and seemed to crawl around like a fading mist amidst the mumbling crowd. The clinking of glass and silverware occasionally overrode it.

“...In conjunction to their appearance, currently more than half of the population have reported a manifestation of supernatural abilities, all originating from a new core in their bodies... It was as if a deity had prepared humanity for the calamity that the dungeons brought immediately thereafter their arrival on our dear planet...”

“Manager! I need water here now!” An elderly woman’s ear-grating voice crowed above the noise. Small, wrinkly hands banged on the wooden round table. “And where are my sliced bell peppers?!”

“Yes, yes—coming!” A small figure rushed through the web of jumbled tables and chairs, kicking up dust.

“... The eight great pioneers of the new order of magic—five of which are the heads of a number of the top guilds today—stopped the Great Flood before more than a number surpassing a 100 million people were massacred by the torrent of strange creatures spilling out from the mystical dungeons. It was because of their effort that we can now in the present rejoice, with the assurance that thousands of dedicated rankers are now organized against these recurrent floods and dungeons...”

After serving the drink, the manager rushed back to the kitchen. A flurry of words jumbled out of him “Elva—stop drinking—that old lady is about to make a ruckus anytime soon and drive away our ten other customers—now where is the pepper bell—bell pepper chicken dish your customer always orders—”

A silver-haired young woman was leaning against the oil stained, cracked walls. Her ivory neck was tilted slightly upward toward a tipped bottle of wine, and clear liquid ran freely down her opened lips.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

One eyelid revealed a pale, ice-grey eye. “On the table.”

The small man scrunched his brows and hurriedly swung his head around. 11 dishes were messily arranged, displaying an array of vegetables and meat with steam still curling in the air.

“Oh, thank you thank you! Your never cease to amaze me and that’s why I hired you even though you have no—” The man was already out the kitchen before he ended his sentence.

Elva’s eye remained open, perusing the dim clearing through the backdoor as she took another swig of alcohol.

The sun had already disappeared behind the dark, brewing clouds crowding the horizon. What was left was a light wash of pink and marine blue that faded into a large blanket of nothingness.

Tattered houses and shops below created and blended with the jagged shadows that stretched out on the cement street and sidewalk, and streetlamps began to flicker open like dull, yellow flames nearing the end of their life.

Out of the corner of her view, a small, thin shadow backed away from the darkness from a corner of the street. Four burly shadows followed after him.

“...No, I don’t want to!”

“Come here, kid,” A low voice of a man cooed, “We won’t bite—we just want to give you some bread.”

“Screw it Dan, just get to the point. We don't have much time." Another man's voice held an odd pitch in his tone. Was it fear?

"He's merely an orphan anyway."

Suddenly, one of the burly figures lunged forward toward the boy.

Letting out a scream, the young child dodged the man's grip by a hair's breadth and began running toward her direction.

Elva squinted her left eye and watched the boy come closer. His light blonde hair and lashes captured the purest form of amber that the dingy lamps could offer. Such as pretty little boy. He would look good in a dress.

The short, thin legs of the child were no match against the four adult males pursuing him. He was snatched up like a sack of grain and muted with a cloth in mere seconds. Elva was close enough to make out the appearances of the men. All of them were dressed in rags, their tanned and weathered skin displaying years of hardship.

"Are you sure no one saw us?"

"No matter. Barely anyone lives here anyway. The official rankers are all in the city and won't bother coming here."

After that comment, their voice grew more assured, echoing louder about the silent street.

One of them displayed a wide row of crooked, yellow teeth. "With this sacrifice, imagine the riches, the glory, the power!"

Another set of teeth emerged. "The boy's perfect. That abominable creature will be pleased."

"Hello boys."

Four head swiveled around in panic, but immediately relaxed as they observed Elva leaning against the wall gulping down wine.

Elva let out a slow laugh. "Being a sacrifice sounds quite entertaining. How about you take me instead?""

"That boy," she staggered away from the wall and ambled closer to the group, the bottle swaying to and fro from her hand, following her movements, "he won't do you any good."

"But I will suit your master's tastes better."