Thousands of hybrids passed me by in the cobbled streets. I stood upon the middle of the open square and breathed in the scent of the city. The desert sun beat all of us down but the shade of tall trees and colorful canopies offered their shadows.

My first quest in Hubloc was the search for nourishment. The crumbs of stale bread and dried meat had long passed. I cared not for what presented itself as long as it was edible. Fortunately for me, the markets were abundant.

I followed the lines of other tired hybrids to the stalls of grilled skewers and pocket pastries. “The locals must be making a fortune off us,” I said to myself. Our forced-coexistence was likely to cause chaos in this world, but for now the merchants cared not… except for the silver that adorned us.

“That’ll be three pieces,” the dwarven lady said.

“For both sticks of fish?” I asked.

“Each!”

I reluctantly forked over the six chips of silver around my neck and scarfed down the meager fish while waiting in a different line. The stall I headed to next, ran by a mute elf, carried a pastry as big as my head. They gestured for the remaining two silver around my neck. I reached for another coin to add to the remaining pieces but the elf motioned with rapid hands that I needn’t give them any more. I said my thanks, although with a heavy skepticism for why it was so cheap.

Nevertheless, I laid my pelt on the ground, sat below a great mesquite tree, and tore open the golden pastry. Butter coated my fingers as it revealed a brimming meat pie that steamed into the air. Rich brown meat crumbled to the vibrant grass blades of the field. I hardly saw the chopped bits of onions and carrots before I engulfed the pastry.

My [Stamina] brimmed a bright green, and for a moment, I believed it to reach 26/20 points. It settled back to its original state before I could take a second glance. The meat pie fell like an anchor in my gullet that needed to be washed away.

My hands wrapped around my belly as I stood with my empty waterskin. Water was easy to find, for it poured from the fountain in the center of the plaza and streamed from surrounding faucets. Well, do as the locals do, I suppose. I waited in line with the rest of the hybrids and pure-bloods until it was my turn to fill my skin.

I was third in line from the refreshing faucets of the cold azure before a man pushed his way to the front. The half-beast made of obsidian scales knelt below the faucet and let the water pour upon his head and back.

“The hell’s your deal, man. Get to the back,” the hybrid next in line said.

The half-beast gritted his razor teeth but continued to soak in the stream. “Fuck off. I just came from the Arena.” The muscles in his back heaved up and down with every exhausted breath.

An elderly dwarven man put one hand on the scale-ridden shoulder and in a blink, the beast pulled a dagger from his hip and held it to the local’s throat. “You have no idea what it’s like, myth-born!” His forked tongue flicked with every word. “I could slay you where you stand and you’ll have no chance for redemption!” A crooked smile crossed his face as he scraped the blade against the dwarf’s white beard.

Eager to stop the aggression, I placed a firm grip on the volatile hybrid and peered at him with a stern brow.

“Who the hell are you, orc-skin?” he said. His emerald gaze was erratic and I could tell that any sign of weakness would place me beneath the dagger. My gear and sickle was back under the tree, but I still had my fists and tusks. My only hope was to frighten this beast before he sent me to where he just emerged victorious.

“I’m the orc-skin who sent Taro Matsuno to the Arena! Now let him go or I’ll send you back to where you came.”

The silence of the crowd was deafening. Every hybrid knew of the first duel and how powerful Taro was. I could feel their suspicions but they could tell it was no lie I told; and it wasn’t my problem if they misinterpreted my lack of action against a direwolf for a killing-blow against Taro.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

His emerald eyes darted to the surrounding crowd. He pushed the dwarf to the cobble below but still held taut to his blade.

Dammit! You still want to fight? “You want to press your luck and see if you’ll survive the Arena again?” I asked in an unyielding tone. “Maybe I’ll off myself right after I’m done with you in hopes to cast you to an eternal death!”

The beast wavered but his legs stood planted. I could tell he was thinking it through; gauging the risk and likelihood that he would survive again. But based on his exhaustive state, I doubt he could’ve.

He pointed the dagger at me and tilted his head with a heavy sigh before trudging deeper into the city. If intimidation was a skill, I was sure to have leveled it up. The clamoring of the crowd returned and the day continued on. I offered a hand to the fallen dwarf and he accepted it with a more fierce grip than what I gave to the half-beast.

“Glad to see some of your kind aren’t so unpolished.” He put a hand to his bleeding neck and patted me on the arm.

Shit. I said internally with a groan. At least that hybrid didn’t decide to party-up and see the lack of people I’ve killed. I filled my waterskin to the brim and chugged as much as I could at the faucet. It felt wrong to fill it a second time but I suppose the people behind me felt I deserved it.

My belongings gathered, my belly full, it was time to search for a bed. The evening light cast purple streaks across the sky that warned me of the coming night. Although I’ve slept under the stars plenty of times since I spawned, it was never in the most densely populated city I’ve come across.

Hotheads, thieves, drunkards, or hybrids desperate for an easy fortune roamed the streets. I couldn’t fault them for their actions, for I could have been in the same place if not for the Creator’s curse and Gadaan’s expedition. To protect myself from such… rapscallions, I hurriedly looked for an inn before the last sun’s glimmer.

Warm, orange-glass lanterns poured outside the windows. It was silent and still inside the building, contrasting with the music and cheering of the taverns nearby. I opened the creaky door, decorated with the nameplate Lafahdra, and was met with a humble interior. Wooden chairs, a bench covered in animal skins in front of a smoldering fireplace, and a spectacled elf writing in a ledger.

“Visiting or staying?” she asked without a glance upward.

“Staying. If you have a room available.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if we didn’t.”

“Tsk. How much per night?”

“Six pieces,” she said, scribbling into her book.

Only six? I really did get scammed from those fish skewers. When I was unclasping the chips from the coin around my neck, I was stunned by the otherworldly elf. I looked back up at her desk and saw her long fire-red hair reach the top of her quill, twirling it with every stroke of the pen. My trance broke when her opal eyes and freckled-cheeks peered back at me. I handed over the silver slices with a quivering hand.

“Nice ring,” she said, glancing back at her ledger.

“Oh, thanks—I’m not married by the way!” I said with a wry laugh.

The elf paused and gave a squinting brow. “I never said you were.”

Sweat dripped from my brow and back. “R-right. Sorry. Where I come from it’s usually a sign of marriage. Like both wedded partners wear a ring to symbolize their devotion and eternal lo—”

“You're in room four.” She slid an iron key over her desk. “It’s an extra piece to replace the bathwater during your stay.”

“Right. Thanks,” I said, nimbly escaping for the numbered room in the dim hallway. I was greeted with a wood post bed, a lit candle, a wooden tub, and a seat that fed to a small stream below. Must be the toilet, I thought. The bath’s water looked fresh, still warm to the touch.

After bathing myself and crawling under the rough furs on my bed, I pulled out the rolled parchment Gadaan had given me. It was a familiar and humble reminder of why I mustn’t be enticed and entrapped in this world. The scroll showed illustrations of the gods' rule over ancient humans and their construction of historic civilizations.

I stuffed the parchment back into my bag before my temperament got the better of me and snuffed the candle.

* * *

My days of rest had been plentiful. But between paying for food, baths, and my bed, my coinage had gotten light enough to make me start worrying about what to do next. I had met other hybrids and locals on my walks along the city, but fate kept me in my bedroom for most of my days. I heard no angelic voice speak in my mind nor a call to action. However, the repeated thump at my door lured my attention.