Tatters saw Viscious’ murderer, the treacherous tiny elf with a voice that made a lion’s roar sound like mewing. The world was quiet for the buck-toothed young man, his hearing had gone, and it was all because of this pygmy elf who wielded deadly power. He pointed at her.

Tatters had come with a group of men led by a senior member of the White Scale Viper, Brudo. As soon as the elf had been targeted, Brudo waved the men forward, and they charged. As they ran down the street, their black-clad forms pulsated with mana, casting shimmering blue lights on the derelict houses nearby.

The elf paled at the sight of them, then immediately began trying to sing, but her voice faltered. It seemed her voice had been weakened recently. A dwarf, covered in supplies and tools, became a shield for her as he stepped forward, pulling out a crossbow to shoot. The bolts shattered into splinters upon hitting the gang members' mana-imbued bodies. An older human man tried to hold the line with the dwarf, only to be felled by a single blow.

Tatters didn’t know why, but his boss, Boss Harvul, had sent only elite White Scale Viper members here. Every man with them was able to imbue mana, making them unstoppable against those who couldn't. Tatters was glad for the extra manpower; it would help even more to show his enemies he was not to be trifled with. His world had recently gone silent, sound itself stripped from him by the tiny elf’s power. He was here to return the favor and rip from the elf one of her senses, all of them if he could.

The dwarf had tricks up his sleeve, throwing powder that sparked a flash and blinded a few of the gang members. He retreated, and when some of the gang members tried to follow, they slipped on a substance he had left behind, causing them to fall clumsily. He grabbed the tiny elf's hand and tried to haul her away, but he had to stop as one of the White Scale Vipers appeared to obstruct his path.

Tatters' menacing laughter echoed in the air as he clutched a knife tightly, relishing the thought of revenge. The blade, reflecting the blue hues of the mana from his fellow gang members, glinted in the dim light. It was a knife he had taken from Vicious, a reminder of his dead ally. Tatters slowly made his way towards the trapped elf and dwarf, his buck teeth bared in a sinister grin.

“I’m going to enjoy this,” Tatters said too loudly. He was still growing accustomed to life without hearing. A man much larger than him got in his way. “Brudo?” He sputtered, unsure why the senior gangster had blocked him.

“You can’t harm the elf,” Brudo stated plainly, shaking his head.

Though he couldn’t hear the deep voiced gangster, the deaf Tatters could see his meaning. “But that dirt worshipper took my hearing!” He screeched.

“I’m sorry, junior, but it isn’t going to happen.” With a head nod to the others, Brudo signaled them to take the elf. The dwarf attempted more tricks only to be instantly overrun and put down, which elicited a despairing scream from the elf. Brudo then looked at a disgruntled Tatters and used a finger to point upward as he said, “This comes from the top, junior. Big Boss’ orders.”

Tatters stomped around in fury having been denied his vengeance. He needed to vent his frustration and pent up rage on something. The dwarf began to rouse awake, holding his head as if afraid it would fall off his shoulders. A glint lit Tatters’ in beady eyes, holding up his blade, he said to the dwarf, “I need to hurt something. You’ll have to do. Blame your misfortune, dwarf.”

He suddenly lunged, steadying the dwarf with one hand at his back while another hand began stabbing with the knife. Blood spurted and began to pool, forming a puddle that reflected the manic expression of the rat faced young man.

Under a full moon, a giant buffalo could be seen galloping and mooing just outside the white walls of Soalde. From beneath white helmets, eyes of the guards posted at the west gate grew wary at the sight. Their curly beards were filled with frowns when the buffalo chose them as its target.

The guards were on high alert, expecting the buffalo to charge at any moment. But their fear dissipated when they saw three people sitting calmly atop the animal, making the colossal beast appear tamed and controlled. The beast came to a halt in front of them, dust billowing outward under the force of air exiting its wide snorting nostrils.

“Come down!” A guard shouted to its riders.

A wild and tall woman with exorbitantly long red hair suddenly plunged down like a leopard leaping off a tree. She wore loose, colorful pants but her top half had only a leather pauldron on one shoulder and covering her chest was only cloth wraps. The guards blushed seeing a woman so scantily clad.

Another figure, seemingly just as wild and without much clothing, didn’t bother to climb down and instead landed in the same manner as the wild woman, carrying a robed individual on his shoulder. His handsome face contrasted with his rough fashion however, with even features and smooth skin that suggested a noble upbringing. Despite his thin frame, his muscles were densely packed, and his towering height forced the guards to look up at him.

The person over his shoulder was set down, revealing another young man who was quite the opposite of his companions. With pale skin and nearly invisible blonde eyebrows, he had a strikingly light appearance. The guards could see a bony face and dark green eyes beneath his dark hood, with dark circles that made it seem as if he hadn't slept in days.

The wild woman snickered at the pale man, “The heathen is fearful of using his magic in front of others, so he has to be helped like an infant.”

“You’re a savage and no man will ever love you,” the pale man rebuked with narrowed eyes.

The handsome young man in between them seemed to have grown accustomed to ignoring the pair as he did not acknowledge either had spoken. He instead addressed the guards, “Hewy, Pharc, greetings. It feels like it has been ages.”

“State your business…wait a moment, you know me?” one of the two guards, Hewy, asked with uncertainty.

“And me as well…” Pharc muttered.

The young man laughed awkwardly, “I forgot that I changed. It’s me, Red.”

“I only know one Red,” Hewy denied, “and you’re not him.” Pharc beside him threw a suspicious look at the shirtless young man.

“My body was forcefully changed by servants of a noble. I also became smart,” Red explained, changing his posture to appear more dignified with a single arm behind his back.

“I don’t know you, sir,” Hewy stated sternly, beginning to become angry someone would impersonate a person he knew.

“State your business,” Pharc barked, “or face the wrath of the Soalde guard!”

Red insisted, "It's really me! Varza's son. You've known me since I was a child. Hewy, you may be the most forgetful person I know, but you never fail to take a rose to your wife's grave every week. And Pharc, you eat at ‘The Rodent and The Bird’ because you fancy the woman who works there."

Hewy and Pharc exchanged bewildered gazes.

Red continued, "You both collect rainwater in a barrel at the back of the guardhouse for the children of the slums to drink from when they get thirsty while playing outside the gate."

Pharc tested him, “And where are you from, Red?”

“The Reeking Valley,” Red answered without hesitation.

“By the realms,” Hewy awed, “You’re…you’re…” He didn’t know what to say. Hewy could still remember the dumb child Red had been who would get lost if his mother let his hand go for only a moment. As a child, Red had once tried to eat a raw bird with its feathers still intact and nearly choked to death. And even after being revived, Red had stubbornly attempted to eat it once more.

“You’ve done well for yourself, it seems,” Pharc said, a proud glint in his eyes. Was this same young man from the Reeking Valley? He would’ve seemed more fit for the Gold Boar district if not for his clothing.

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“Thank you,” Red smiled. They exchanged words for a bit before Red and his two companions were allowed past the gate.

“I’m happy for you, Red!” Hewy called out as Red walked away.

“Come back tomorrow and let’s talk some more!” Pharc implored as Red waved at them.

As they made their way towards the Classy Slums, Red's strides lengthened, his chest puffed out with pride at the kind words of Hewy and Pharc. “Heathens,” Nasset hissed, eyeing the guards in the distance. Red immediately turned on her.

“You’re not going to do that,” Red said, his expression blank but his tone deepening. “You don’t talk to the people in my life like that.”

Nasset bared her teeth at him like an animal and urged, “Fight me then.” She was a warrior and loved only glory derived from war. No man could tame her and no man ever would.

“Go back to your land if you must,” Red dismissed, ignoring her hostile posture. “I won’t suffer any insult to the people I know.” With that, he turned and began walking again. “Go home, Nasset. Tell big bro Otai I am no longer the man he met in Vitelwood.” Red’s words were truer than Nasset or her father could ever know.

Nasset had to pause as she watched Red move on with gritted teeth. What does my father see in this weak and coddled meat? She wondered with annoyance. From the corner of her eye, she caught Zini waving goodbye to her with a derisive expression.

“Run along, savage,” he mocked. “You won’t be missed.”

I will have glory. Whatever it takes, I will accomplish my mission. Badland is my land! She strode with purpose, her dark eyes locked onto Red. But I wish the sire of my future child wasn’t so weak!

The smell of the slums hit them before they arrived. Zini immediately used a sleeve to cover his nose and mouth. Nasset gagged outright. For Red however, the scent brought about a deep sigh. He was home.

Entering the Classy Slums, all was quiet as its residents had already turned in for the night. A single unlicensed mage wandered from the tablet controlling the temperature of the buildings to the well and its purifying sage symbol, checking if everything was still intact. Afterwards while stretching, feeling the toll of the day’s work, he caught sight of Red and Nasset and nearly stumbled.

Red was confused at the reaction but finally noticed how he and Nasset lacked proper clothing. He flushed, feeling embarrassed. He didn’t know how his dull minded self could walk around like this all the time. Waving the two with him onward, he rushed through the Classy Slums and found what he was looking for.

In front of a ramshackle building that barely passed for a shop, an elderly woman dozed in a broken rocking chair that had lost its ability to rock, drooling as she slept.

“Can I still buy clothing?” Red asked, causing the old woman to wake up immediately. He had accompanied Poly here once so she could purchase clothing.

“Buy?!” The old woman uttered waking up as if she had been dreaming of money. Looking at who had woken her, she immediately became angered. “You said buy?” Her old, half-blind eyes looked at them up and down. “Do you have any money?”

Red grimaced. He had forgotten. He never carried any coin. Dwindle had managed everything for him. He couldn’t help thinking how important a manager was at that moment. He turned to Zini hopeful but the necromancer pulled out empty pockets of his robes. Zini hadn’t interacted with civilization for quite some time, so he had no chance to obtain coin, not to mention he had raided an empty tomb with no valuables.

A clinking sound turned both Red and Zini’s heads to see coins glinting in Nasset’s outstretched hand. At the sight of money, the old woman excitedly began forcing her broken chair to rock once more. The Badlander’s dark eyes focused wholly on Red, her expression blank.

Red asked her with uncertainty, “Would you buy us clothes, Nasset?”

“Yes ,” she answered simply.

Red tried to take the coins from her hand but Nasset began to glow with imbued mana, her fingers becoming vice grips around the coins, making them unable to be taken by too weak a force. Red’s brow furrowed when he looked at her still plain expression, confused about her intentions.

“I think the savage is testing you,” Zini murmured to Red.

Watching Red struggle fruitlessly with the coins in her hand, Nasset thought, is this who father wanted me to bear a child with? He’s too weak. I have to send a letter to father about this.

Red nodded in understanding then immediately glowed and when he did, the coins popped out from Nasset’s hands as if she had let them go herself. Her expression became stunned.

“Thank you,” Red said with a smile. He had found the game fun.

Nasset couldn’t make sense of the difference between their mana imbuement. Perhaps she should’ve used all of her strength?

Red handed the coins to the old woman, who quickly made them disappear into her shirt. “Right this way,” she smiled a hole-ridden smile and opened the door to her shack, revealing clothes hanging on strings strung up about the small space.

Inside the shack, Red scanned the limited selection of hanging clothing. While there were no fancy fabrics or designs, each article of clothing was at least whole and without patches. He selected a simple but comfortable outfit: a linen shirt with dark red trousers, and stiff leather shoes.

Nasset, on the other hand, was hesitant to cover herself in anything that might obscure her hard-earned muscles. Red had to persuade her by offering that she could go home instead, and finally, she reluctantly chose a basic linen shirt and pants.

The coins given to Red had run out, leaving Zini without new clothes, he also refused to use the money of a slaver.

“It’s alright,” Red joked with Zini. “I’m the one buying the clothes. Since Nasset is my wife, it’s my money as well.” Zini didn’t find Red’s words humorous. Red then asked Nasset for more coins to help buy Zini clothes.

Nasset seemed to be waiting for Red to ask her that. She held up enough coins for Zini’s clothes and became aglow with mana, her power causing the shack and ground to tremble. Her dark eyes focused in on Red as her hand and arm muscles flexed to their utmost limits.

“Take them,” she challenged. Your heathen mana imbuement can’t measure up to the Badlands’—

But before she could finish her thought, Red glowed, snatched the coins, and handed them to the old woman. “Thank you, wife,” Red chuckled. The old woman clucked her tongue seeing the misshapen coins bent by the Badlander’s grip, but put them away nonetheless.

Nasset couldn’t move. She was sure she had put everything in her hand holding the coins. Had it been a heathen trick? Perhaps Red knows sorcery?

Zini burst into laughter seeing Nasset’s disbelieving face and said, “You know what, Red. All of a sudden, I do feel like buying some new clothes.”

Once clothed, they seemed ordinary besides the red hair of the Badlander that fell to the floor. Without his hood, Zini’s short pale blonde hair was exposed which seemed closer to white than blonde. He seemed sickly but his eyes were what exuded vigor and intelligence. He had a similar linen shirt to Red but his pants were black. Nasset’s garb held no difference from theirs except the cloth wrappings around her chest that covered her bosom, which the low neckline of the shirt wouldn't have covered completely.

Zini whistled, impressed with how Red looked in the clothes. "You truly look like a noble with that face of yours."

Red rolled his eyes. "You should've heard what Rose's party called me: slum rat, slum trash, peasant bastard. I'd rather not hold a noble title."

“Wait a moment,” Zini implored then walked to a lopsided table and picked a single strip from a bundle of loose cloth strips lying there. He came back with it and tied Red’s loose hair back. “Now you look fit to be a noble.”

Red shook his head at the words. From across the room, he saw the old shop owner wink at him. “So handsome,” she said. “If only I was fifty-three years younger…”

Red blushed, unused to compliments from strangers. He looked to Nasset who seemed unimpressed. Shrugging, he walked outside. A young woman wearing a bonnet and sporting a billowy dress walked by and smiled at him. A friend with her began to giggle. Red blushed again but soon straightened his posture, feeling a newfound sense of confidence within himself.

He began to walk with pride. Perhaps having a noble’s looks weren’t too bad? Others on the street enjoying a drink or playing card games at tables saw him pass by. Some smiled while a few outwardly bowed, confusing Red as someone important. Red could get used to such treatment.

“Sir dwarf!” a voice yelled frantically. Red looked around hurriedly, knowing there was only one dwarf in the Classy Slums. “Dwindle! Stay awake!” the voice shouted.

Red's body glowed before he became a blur, disappearing from where he stood. When he reappeared, he was standing on the roof of a dilapidated building, looking down on the squalor of the Classy Slums below. From this vantage point, he spotted a middle-aged man and a dwarf sitting by the side of a road. With lightning speed, Red leaped from rooftop to rooftop until he reached the pair, recognizing the dwarf covered in supplies and tools as his friend, Dwindle, who always stayed prepared. However, his joy at seeing Dwindle again quickly turned to horror when he saw the dwarf lying in a pool of blood.

"Dwindle!" Red shouted, his heart pounding in his chest. He dropped to his knees beside the wounded dwarf. The middle-aged man with him, whom Red recognized as Euness, looked up in surprise.

"Sir?" Euness said, unsure who this young man was. Clearly, he was not from the slums.

“What happened?” Red asked, his hands hovering around Dwindle, not sure how he could help.

“This dwarf is named Dwindle,” Euness explained to the perceived stranger. “The White Scale Viper gang attacked us…”

“Dwindle!” Red shouted, his eyes beginning to blur from tears. “Don’t die, Dwindle. I need a manager. I need my friend!”

“Red…?” Dwindle mumbled, his eyes fluttering, unable to focus. He could’ve sworn he heard Red’s voice. “Is that really you?”

“Yes, Dwindle! I’m here. I’m back! I’m so sorry, Dwindle. I shouldn’t have hurt you. It’s all my fault.”

Dwindle felt a second wind enter him and he managed to make out Red’s outline. “Red…you’re safe?” he asked tiredly. “We tried so hard to look for you…” As his eyes cleared, he became confused. “Who are you?”

“It’s me! I’ll get you to the healer’s. Don’t worry. I’ve become fast, Dwindle. You’re going to be really impressed.”

“I don’t know you, sir,” Dwindle murmured apologetically, not recognizing Red’s face. He could’ve sworn he felt Red’s mana signature from this stranger. Was he mistaken that Red was near? Dying must be making his senses unclear.

“Dwindle, hold onto me. I’ll take you there now.”

The dwarf backed away, shaking his head and muttered, “I’m sorry, sir. I thought you were someone else…” The light in his eyes dimmed, and his breathing grew shallow as his body weakened. “I thought you were my friend…”