Glenn glanced suspiciously at the hot cup of…something bubbling that Giselle had given him an instant ago. He slowly brought the cup to his lips, half-curious and half-worried, only to wince back at the smell. Whatever was used in that mixture was probably not supposed to be ingested by a human digestive system.

‘Is that really a problem for you? You’re a super-human now!’ Diamanes exclaimed within Glenn’s mind. The latter’s eyelids twitched as he placed the cup back down, raising his eyes to peek into the Black Heir’s leader’s office, where Redan and Giselle were competing in an intense staring contest.

Glenn rubbed the back of his head, recalling what happened moments ago. When the fiery sword of burning flames almost made contact with both the old man and him, an ice wall was suddenly raised out of the ground, blocking the projectile. The shockwave that resulted from the contact managed to knock him down, but not harm him in the slightest. He certainly had Redan to thank for conjuring that ice wall, even though it was probably also the old man’s fault if Giselle acted violently.

After the wall of ice disappeared in a cloud of hissing steam, he remembers looking at Redan and finding him completely unperturbed, as if this attempted murder had been a perfectly normal event. The Black Heirs around them were also bursting into laughter and dejected sighs as they exchanged pouches of coins or small objects. Glenn managed to catch them talking about “bets”; apparently, they were betting on how their boss - Giselle - would react to the sight of Redan. The strained glances had disappeared and the Black Heirs had gone back to their business after that.

“This really is an insane world, isn’t it…?” Glenn pondered through his teeth before shaking his head.

Diamanes scoffed mockingly, ‘What’s wrong with enjoying such an entertaining spectacle? Pity there was no popcorn!’

Glenn pressed his lips together, ‘What's wrong with that? Aren't they playing with people's lives a bit too much? I almost became an accidental casualty right here!’

Diamanes grunted and didn’t bother replying, annoyed. Glenn sighed and turned to the old couple arguing over something, their words too distant for him to listen. He was occupying a corner of the yurt, resembling a waiting room, while on the opposite side lay Giselle’s office—from which steam kept on coming, probably thanks to Giselle and Redan trading spells once again.

Glenn stood up and dusted his shoulders off, looking at the contents of the waiting room to alleviate his boredom. The yurt’s flap was letting some gentle light in, creating a cozy ambiance. A table in the center of the room was holding various objects; an obsidian dagger, shimmering crystals of different colors, probably Shards, and the skull of a mysterious creature. The bone structure lacked familiar features—no teeth, jaws, or eye sockets. Only a rounded hole at one end hinted at its function.

It wasn't human, evidently, and was surprisingly flat, being half a meter long and high by only a dozen centimeters. If it weren't for the fact that it was made out of bone, Glenn would never have guessed that it was a skull. Was it even a skull?

"Never seen an Ossiva's skull before?" a mocking voice chimed in from behind him.

‘So it’s a skull. That's one question solved,’ remarked Diamanes as Glenn turned to face his interlocutor - a young man in his twenties, dressed in an outfit more suited to a desert than a shantytown. His bright green eyes were full of energy, an affable smile floated on his lips, and yet he seemed a little haughty. His skin was tanned, unlike the natural ebony color of Giselle’s, and he had a pretty athletic body. A white mark was on his forehead, the same that the Black Heirs have, but it wasn’t as detailed as Giselle’s either. His hair peeked from beneath a white shemagh, chestnut-gold strands escaping the cloth’s constraints.

“I'm Sahro. Sahro Sand,” said the newcomer as he approached the table, his gaze fixed on the skull, “...It’s not surprising you’ve never seen one. It’s a rare creature that only appears during moonless nights. See that hole?” Sahro asked as he pointed to the rounded opening Glenn previously noticed, “The Ossiva’s tongue would shoot out of there and pierce through skin and steel alike to suck the bones out of its victims.”

Glenn scoffed at the description and shook his head. Thank whoever shoved him into this world he didn’t land in the damned desert Sahro was speaking of, or he wouldn’t have survived the first night.

'It would make for a pretty good pet,' commented Diamanes.

Glenn blinked, ‘What?’

“This was one of the biggest Ossiva, the Alpha of the herd, and Giselle hunted it by herself, back when we were still living in the Ink Dunes.”

Sahro’s smug demeanor was evident as he spoke, his words practically dripping with pride. He toyed with the skull, his fingers tracing its contours slowly. Glenn’s gaze shifted between Sahro and the Ossiva’s skull. What did this guy want with him?

“She’s something else entirely, but she’s a Black Heir, so that’s expected,” Sahro’s voice was laced with condescension as he grinned smugly. Glenn moistened his lips, hesitating to clack his tongue, ‘Alright, uh, didn’t ask?’ he even thought sarcastically, keeping his mouth shut.

“I can’t fathom why she would accept to welcome you. Disgusting. Human,” Sahro spat each word with profound hatred. Glenn raised his eyebrows, caught off guard by the insult. He blinked, momentarily stunned by his interlocutor's hostile attitude.

"I'm sorry, but aren't you human too?" He asked puzzledly.

Sahro's laughter was almost mocking. "Human?" He spat the word, his eyes full of hate, "Oh, please. I'm a Black Heir."

Glenn's eyebrows furrowed in even greater confusion. What was this guy talking about? “Wait, the Black Heirs aren't humans? Then what are you? Are Black Heirs a race apart? You're clearly humanoid, and, sorry, but your skin color is just darker, that doesn't make you anything other than human,” he tried to reason. Sahro opened his mouth, only to close it moments later. He simply couldn’t win with the skin color argument alone, not against a 21st-century man like Glenn. To him, making up races based on skin color seemed so…ignorant. An awkward minute passed until the Black Heir rubbed the corner of his eyes and instead pressed his thumb against the white mark on his forehead, undeterred.

“Now, uhm, did you see any humans with an Inheritance Sigil? I doubt that!” Sahro exclaimed triumphantly.

Glenn smacked his lips together and shrugged, “That’s just a white tattoo. Neat, but I could have one too. I mean, look at my—” He slammed his lips shut, forcing himself not to reveal the presence of his purple, left arm, currently wrapped in bandages. Sahro raised a questioning eyebrow but didn’t push the matter further. Glenn mentally cursed himself and his big mouth and drew a short breath.

“I don’t think any Alsaahir would be willing to give you an Inheritance Sigil. And!” Sahro’s grin came back as he pointed his finger at the ceiling, “We can use both Mana and Aura! That’s not something humans can do!”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Glenn grinned back and nodded in Giselle’s office direction, “I know an old man that can do that, though, and he is human.”

Sahro looked at Redan, his face paling slightly. He dejectedly collapsed on a chair and buried his face in his hands, sighing loudly, “...Why is it so hard to convince you? Are you just this dense? Usually, it’s enough to even show our skin color, so why…?” He trailed off with a mixture of anger and frustration. The Black Heir suddenly looked up and pointed at Glenn with a frown, “—and Redan doesn’t count! He’s special, even amongst humans! Don’t compare him to you!”

Glenn chuckled mockingly and leaned back in his chair, raising his hands to the sky, “I mean, there are tons of bad arguments in your explanations, but sure, let’s say Black Heirs are not humans. What of it?”

Sahro slammed his fist on the table angrily, “We are different from you! Superiors, even! We—”

Glenn stopped him and shook his head doubtfully, “I apologize, but you’re the ones living in the Sewers, and the humans are living in King’s Rise, safe behind the walls. I don’t believe one is superior over the other, but if I had to say one was—”

Sahro dashed to the other side of the table and grabbed Glenn’s collar, pulling him up hatefully, “That’s the fault of bastards like you! “Nobles”! The only thing noble about you are your clothes and titles, bastards! We wouldn’t be in this situation if it weren’t for humans!”

Glenn raised his hand in a placating manner, calming the Black Heir down. Sahro let go of him with a grunt and stepped back. Glenn straightened his collar and sat back in his chair, leaning on his fist.

“Another thing I’m curious about. What happens if a Black Heir is born an albino?” He inquired with curious eyes. Sahro blinked and his anger disappeared, replaced by confusion.

“Excuse me?”

“What if a Black Heir, born from two Black Heirs parents, were to have white skin when he was born? Would he still be a Black Heir? Or would be a human, despite being born of Black Heir parents?” Glenn insisted, smiling as he watched the Black Heir fall into a confused state.

“No, that’s—that’s not possible. It has never happened and it never will,” says Sahro with firm belief, as if trying to persuade himself. Diamanes groaned with annoyance, interjecting in Glenn’s mind with a cynical voice. ‘Humans this, humans that, damn, this idiot is exhausting me. Is even aware that he has human blood in addition to that other heritage?’

Glenn’s curiosity flared up once more. He crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat, squinting, “One last question, then.”

Sahro frowned but didn’t say anything, simply waiting for his question.

“Is it possible for a Black Heir and a human to procreate?” Glenn asked, staring at Sahro’s features for a special reaction. The Black Heir’s confusion shifted to irritation, his pride seemingly challenged once again.

“That is forbidden. And even if it wasn’t, why would we want to sully our blood with a lower species like yours?”

Glenn shrugged with uncertainty, “I don’t know, just asking. And since, well, you’re also part human.”

Sahro’s face whitened and his fists closed tightly, veins appearing on his forehead and forearms, “How—How dare you insult my parents like that!” He hissed through clenched teeth, standing up once more angrily.

Glenn rolled his eyes, “I don’t consider it an insult, but rather an honor, you know.” He flicked his finger and snorted, “Hey, maybe you got the best of both worlds!”

The Black Heir’s face turned as red as a tomato and he raised his fist in anger, a strange red light surrounding it. Glenn dashed back and pulled out the Fire Staff out of his dimensional pouch, ready to fight. He was tired of listening to that idiot’s nonsense anyway.

“You—” Sahro spat when Redan suddenly entered the room. The Black Heir’s anger melted away like snow in the sun and bowed without waiting at a perfect, 45° angle. The red light surrounding his fist had also swiftly disappeared as well.

“S…Sir Redan!” Sahro stuttered.

The old man grunted in annoyance, before grumbling in his beard, “Tsk…I already told ya not to do that, ya fool.”

Glenn almost whistled in awe but restrained himself, instead shoving his Fire staff back in his pouch. That was a swift change in attitude. Who the hell was Redan exactly, for his presence to be enough to make the prideful Sahro bow down like a mutt? Just who was this old man, and how lucky was Glenn for meeting him twice in his circumstances?

The old man tapped on the young man's shoulder, inciting him to stop bowing, but Sahro didn't move an inch. With an exasperated sigh, Redan turned toward Glenn and nodded in the direction of Giselle’s office. Glenn grinned widely and waved at the Black Heir.

“Well, see you around,” He tried to keep as friendly of a face as he could, but Redan still seemed to have remarked something, eyeing him suspiciously. Glenn hurriedly left the room, making his way to Giselle’s office. It really was an expansive tent.

'Why did you bother with this guy?' Diamanes asked curiously.

Glenn shrugged with a smirk, ‘Oh, mostly because I was bored, but also because he was trying to assert some kind of dominance. I couldn’t just let him bully me like that;’

Diamanes grunted hesitantly, not sure how to tell him what he observed.

‘What?’ Glenn finally asked, exasperated.

‘Well, you see that red light around his fist, when he was about to punch you? That was Aura.’

Oh.

‘Even with your strengthened body, you might have suffered from a couple of broken bones, or worse.’

Glenn winced, ‘Why didn’t you tell me that BEFORE I made this idiot angry?’

You were so busy disparaging him that I simply couldn't interrupt such an entertaining show! Diamanes laughed wickedly. Glenn brushed aside these thoughts as he entered the office, glancing at Giselle's muscular back. She was wearing through her teeth, pacing in the room angrily. The temperature in the room was increasing at the same pace as her fury until she finally turned towards him. She rubbed the Inheritance Sigil on her forehead, pondering, before slouching in the comfortable leather armchair behind her desk.

Giselle cracked her neck and sighed heavily, “So ya’re the guy. The ol’ bastard told me all about ya,’ She said in a similar manner of speaking to Redan. Glenn nodded positively. He hadn’t exactly expected things to turn out this way, but now that he had the opportunity to talk to the leader of a powerful force, he certainly was going to take it. After all, the Black Heirs sounded more than strong enough to take on these cultist bastards of the Thorn’s Church. Glenn explained exactly what happened to him, spare for how he escaped or anything concerning Diamanes. He didn’t hesitate to curse the cult multiple times, unable to restrain his hatred of this organization.

Giselle had an imposing presence, inspiring awe. Glenn almost trembled in his shoes as he recounted his adventure, but he had already met scarier things before, such as Diamanes. He wasn’t going to let himself get intimidated so easily. After he was done talking, the older lady sighed and pulled a drawer open from her desk, taking a cigar out of it.

“Wan’ one?” She held one toward Glenn, but he politely refused. She shrugged and bit on the cigar, conjuring a blue flame at the tip of her pinky and using it as a lighter. She took a few puffs from the cigar, creating a small cloud of smoke that she blew in Glenn’s face. It smelled of rich tobacco and spices.

Giselle leaned back and stared at the ceiling, her red, fiery eyes lost in thoughts.

“My people came from a place that was worse than this dam’ shithole,” she suddenly said with nostalgia.

“We came from the Land Beyond the Dark Wall. From the Ink Dunes.”

"Wait, the Ink Dunes, like in a black sand desert?" interrupted Glenn, as he thought back to the strange dream he got back on Redan's cart. Sahro already said this word, but he didn't tilt at this moment. He only just realized. When he thought about it, it was pretty strange that he didn't forget it after so much time had passed.

Giselle looked at him strangely and then nodded in confirmation.

"That place had a single rule. Stick together and survive to fight and see another day. Everything worked pretty well. It was a tough life, but we were tough people," she said, shaking her head in reminiscence of what was probably the good times for her.

"Until the arrival of the Gods," her tone shifted, dripping with spite and disgust.

Glenn could also detect another emotion, something he didn’t expect to find in the badass lady.

Fear.