A man in full plate charged directly at a large figure, the creature a horrifying mixture of a human and a lion. Several times larger than the man, the creature lunged towards the man with supernatural grace and power, kicking up a shockwave from the force alone. The man narrowly avoided the creature’s frenzied lunge, his armor wasn’t so lucky, the scraping of metal as it was sheared off almost deafened the man as he lost the armor on his left shoulder. Now exposed, the man welled up with inner power, pouring it into his longsword, causing it to glow with an azure hue. The beast turned, spitting out the scrap metal before turning towards the man once more. Their eyes met, and they both lunged towards each other in a final, desperate gambit for survival…

A dust devil picked up a bit of refuse, carrying it along the ground until it was stopped by a young man’s face. The young man groaned a bit before opening his eyes. The bags under his eyes and his shabby clothing betrayed the fact that he had been out in the cold for at least a month. With a sigh, the young man stood up from the ground and lightly stretched, watching the fog escape his lips while staring up at the gray skies. “Another day in paradise.” the young man would utter, the passersby seemingly unable to hear him, or perhaps they simply ignored him as he shook his delusional dream from his mind.

He was used to that at least, and walked over towards the market street. The early morning hustle and bustle of the merchants setting up their shops and stalls comforted the young man somewhat. He liked to pretend to be normal for a while, although the rumbling in his stomach reminded him of what he had to do, which put a scowl on his face. 

“Henry!” A shout suddenly broke the scowl on the young man’s face as he turned to look towards the woman who called out to him. This was Agnes, a local baker who cared for Henry much more than anyone else had. Henry walked over towards the woman before engaging in small talk.

“Here Henry, have a small loaf I baked this mornin’. It’s still fresh.” the woman said, nearly stuffing the blazing bread into his mouth herself. Her wise smile that had slight wrinkles near the edges was something that kept Henry going. Henry smiled back, but his smile faded quickly. “ G’morning Miss Agnes. What would you have me do for it?” he responded, looking ready for anything. 

Agnes looked at him with her smile fading a bit too. She had gotten used to this behavior, and simply looked back towards her shop. “Two bags O’ flour need to be moved from the back of muh shop to the kitchen.” Agnes said, watching as Henry nodded before quickly walking towards the shop. 

She sighed, knowing that the young man was quite stubborn, and would never accept a free meal, even if she treated him like her own sometimes. As he sauntered off to do what he felt needed doing, a man with salt and pepper hair walked up to Agnes to chat. “Ey Agnes. Is that young man you were talking to, the ‘Henry’ you’ve been on about?” Agnes was startled and turned around to face the man. He was tall and broad, the build of a warrior, and his title was as such. 

He was one of the few that trained to go out past the walls and hunt the monsters that terrorized the normal folk and let merchants get their goods to the next city over. “Yes yes, that’d be him. He’s such a nice boy, but too stubborn to accept his folks’ help. His siblings stole the lot when they died, O'course.” 

Agnes looked towards her shop through the window at the young man who seemed to be struggling lifting the twenty pound sack of flour to its destination. The man she was talking to sighed outwardly before commenting on him. “Sadly you have to be born with the right physique to become a warrior, either that or be rich enough to afford the right potion. Unfortunate too, as I’d take a stubborn young man like that anyday, as stubborn means persistence.” the man mused, almost to himself, before turning back to Agnes. 

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“Back to the matter at hand Miss Agnes, are you ready to leave by tomorrow?” “Mmn” Agnes responded, slightly despondent as she kept looking at the young man diligently struggling but working in her shop. Henry finished dragging the sacks of flour over to the kitchen, setting them up in the right spot so that Agnes wouldn’t have to move them again. He then returned to Agnes before finally accepting the bread that she had made him.

“Well Henry, tomorrow’s the day.” a quiet sentence slipped from Agnes’ lips. “I wish you a safe trip!” Henry would blurt out, making sure not to talk when he was eating. “Also, thanks so much for the bread!” Henry would say, giving a light bow to Agnes before leaving. Agnes seemed to want to reach out towards the boy, but stopped herself in the end. 

Henry made his way throughout the town, attempting to help anyone that would give him the time of day. They were simply basic things such as helping people carry goods, holding a sign while someone hammered it into place, and other such odd jobs. Soon, Henry was dead tired, but had gotten a full day’s worth of food and a few copper coins, before heading back towards the patch of alleys that he slept in. 

On the way there, he heard some people arguing, and he wanted to ignore it at first, but his conscience would not allow him to ignore something like this, as the closer he got to his normal sleeping spot, the louder and more heated the argument became. 

“You keep saying sorry old man, but how’s that gonna pay for my shoes?” Soon Henry got close enough to hear an unfamiliar voice that seemed to be the aggressor. Henry stepped into the alleyway and saw three young men accosting an old man. The old man seemed very thin and frail, the outfit he was wearing made him look homeless, much like Henry himself.

When he walked there, the three young men turned to him with angry looks on their faces. “You know this old man?” the one that appeared to be the leader asked. “I don’t, but…” “Then fuck off!” the man interrupted Henry, scowling and acting as if he was wasting his time before turning his attention back to the old man.

Henry was determined to interject, however, and stepped a bit closer. “You shouldn’t bully old people.” The old man glanced at Henry and flatly stated “Don’t concern yourself with me.” The old man looked like he really had nothing to fear, but this seemed to have the opposite effect on the bullies, who immediately walked over to Henry. 

“Then you’re gonna pay for my shoes instead of the old man, is that it?” The leader asked, putting his arm around Henry’s shoulder. Henry shook a bit, mostly out of anger, but he knew he couldn’t take these thugs while he was malnourished like he was, so he simply reached into his pocket and grabbed the few meager copper coins he had gotten.

No sooner than he had taken them out did the leader slap them out of his hand onto the street, the clangs of the coins ringing out in the silent evening. “You think my shoes are like your pieces of shit? These shoes were an entire gold piece! We’re gonna need at least a silver for the damages.” the leader said, obviously lying.

At the same time, the other thug that was with him punched Henry in the stomach unexpectedly. Not being ready for a sucker punch caused him to keel over to his knees, not that the result would be much different even if he did see the punch coming. “Guess you’ll pay us back in entertainment.” the leader said, before they started viciously beating him. 

All Henry could do was cover his head as the thugs stomped and kicked him for a bit. Seeing as how Henry barely even let out a whimper, they soon got bored and turned back to the old man. The old man seemed to sigh and shake his head towards Henry, and didn’t even take the chance to run away. 

Henry thought that he was too scared, or perhaps he was too feeble. Regardless, in his mind, the weak needed to be protected, and so he reached out and grabbed the foot of the leader. Even in his immense pain, Henry grabbed the man’s foot, and inadvertently smeared a lot of dirt and now blood onto the man’s shoe, which enraged him. 

“What did I say about my fucking shoes!?” the man screamed, before stomping on Henry’s head with his other foot before trying to pull the first one away. Henry was slipping into unconsciousness when the man stomped on him, but his grip was like a vice, not letting the leader go. “The fuck is with this shithead?” the leader said, who was about to stomp on Henry one last time. 

The old man’s shoulders slumped as he sighed, “I guess it’s you then.” before walking towards Henry. This was the last thing Henry had heard before he faded into a coma.