Jonathan sat there in silence, running over the events of the escape in his mind. Edgar had run off into the alleyways, and Jonathan suspected that the walled city had been locked down after he had escaped, which meant that Edgar had been locked in there. He was still in his guard armor, but that disguise would only last so long when someone like Granath was after him. As Jonathan sat there, a mangy looking beastman sat down next to him, scratching idly at a patch of receding fur on his back. The man looked to be some hybrid between a rat and a human, and he grinned over at Jonathan, revealing the massive incisors of a rat.
“Fancy buying a drink for a poor soul?” The man said, his tone wheedling.
Jonathan shook his head and went back to his contemplation. He felt a paw land on his shoulder a moment later, and he looked up, frowning at the still grinning rat man.
“I’m not interested,” Jonathan replied, sending a tiny pulse of his aura towards the man. Rather than be cowed however, the rat man merely grinned wider. Jonathan was beginning to think that this man was completely insane.
He felt a few presences gathering behind his back, and turned around to see a motley crew of rat men standing behind him, all of whom were carrying long, serrated knives. Jonathan scoffed, and ignored them completely, waiting for someone to make the first move. This was evidently something common in these parts, as nobody even looked askance at the escalating situation.
“My friend here wants a drink. You don’t want to deprive him of such a treat, do you?” The largest of the rat men asked, trying to sound friendly.
Jonathan merely continued to stare forwards. A moment later the rat man punched Jonathan in the back of the head, clearly expecting something to happen. Instead, his fist broke on Jonathan’s helmet, and Jonathan laughed. He was not wearing his mask right now, as he did not feel the need. Nobody here knew who he was, and those who did were too strong for the mask to work on them.
He completely ignored his assailants, and smiled underneath his mask as he heard the rat man scream in pain from his broken hand. Another one of the rat men tried to grab at Jonathan, but he shot out his hand and knocked the man head over heels into a nearby wall with a casual flick of his wrist. The other men looked at one another and then backed off, leaving Jonathan sitting there in peace. A few other people surreptitiously made room for him as well, and he smiled wider. This was fun.
However, now that he was unbothered by the riff raff, he started to wonder what exactly had happened with his amulet when he had escaped Granath. It was gone now, but it had briefly outputted enough power to drive off a peak Tier 2 entity. There was clearly more to this story that he had thought. It was time for him to start reading the book. However, he would not do so here. He would have to find somewhere secure to begin plumbing the depths of the book.
Jonathan got to his feet, and walked out of the tavern, suddenly self conscious about his exposed position. He exited through the same trapdoor that he had come in through, and noticed that there was a group of guards storming through the streets, presumably looking for him. He dashed into a nearby alleyway, to avoid their gaze, and closed his eyes. His armor was good for concealing himself from mundane assailants, but the guards knew what to look out for when they were trying to find him, which was his signature suit of black plate armor. At this point, the mask was useless, as the guards were both strong enough to avoid its effects, unless he was channeling it, and the presence of his armor made him stand out a lot more than before, causing the effects to diminish slightly.
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Jonathan waited until the footsteps had faded away, and then made his way out into the main street, mostly unconcerned with the few low level passersby that he could see from his space in the alleyway. He had no time for them right now. He needed to rescue his friend, and then leave the Ashen Citadel. After having seen Granath's power for himself, Jonathan knew that he would need to treat his path to power even more seriously than he had been so far. He would need to eke out every last bit of power that he could from himself until there was nothing left to give. There was a reason why Granath had never been defeated after all. However, rescuing Edgar was more important. Jonathan had only known the man for the better part of a day, but he could already feel a bond forming between him. For the most part, he was simply glad that he had found someone to share the burdens of his journey with. He had been expecting to have to embark on the long path of the Hellbreaker alone, but if he had a companion, perhaps it would not be so difficult. He had only been in this world for a bit over a month after all, and he had untold years to go until he finally was free, perhaps even millenia. If the years stretched on for so long, Jonathan would go insane, losing touch with himself. He would become nothing more than a walking vehicle of destruction and rage, with no reason other to live than his quest.
Jonathan shook his head to clear the morose thoughts, and stepped out into the street, starting towards the center of the city. He was still quite close to the walled citadel that Granath made his home in, and he was only about a fifteen minute walk away from it. However, he knew that getting in this time would be far harder than it had been last time. The streets were filled with a hushed sense of unease, and he caught more than a few glances from the people walking by, likely wondering why someone was wearing full plate armor in the city. He hardly cared at any rate.
As he walked, he got a better look at the city than before, and he had to admit, it was an impressive construction for a city within an actual circle of Hell. The buildings never reached a height of more than about fifty feet, but they were well built, and it seemed that the citizens had taken the opportunity to add a few of their own decorations to the place. This sector of the city was a human one, and as a result, the buildings looked quite similar to what Jonathan would imagine medieval Europe would have looked like, albeit without any wood in the constructions.
The buildings were bulky, and their upper floors protruded outward into the street, likely to save space, similar to how it had been done in cities such as London in the olden times. At least nobody was emptying chamber pots into the streets, and in general, the city was quite tidy and well kept. However, Jonathan knew that even at level ten or so, the need for basic human bodily functions was diminished, and that was probably the reason for the tidiness rather than anything else.
Baskets of fake flowers hung out of windows, looking drab in the faint light that was available in the night. Lanterns hung off every building corner, acting as primitive street lights like back on Earth. However, the people themselves seemed depressed and hopeless, and the few that Jonathan did see out at this hour were all hunched over, and focused on their feet. None of them talked to each other, and they all looked at him in fear when they came across him. As Jonathan came closer to his target, he put his mask back on, just in case he could use it to deter some suspicion from the guards. It was not going to do too much at any rate, but its effects would still help somewhat.