After walking for a while in silence, Melvin deeply sighed and said, "I am sorry man," Glancing at the feline, he continued, "It wasn't my intention to offend. I am just going through a lot of stuff of my own too... I hate being treated like this, but then again who does?"

"It's fine," Firrol replied, eyes directly ahead, "Although it was difficult, it's true."

After another silence stretched out with the both of them sighing at the same time, Firrol asked, "So, what are you gonna do when you meet them?"

Gazing at the thick white clouds in the sky that formed very beautiful shapes as he walked, Melvin said, "I don't know, but I just want to see how they're doing." After pondering a bit over it, he continued, "I want to help them. Although I am no longer the man they know, I'll do my best to make sure they're living well."

"And how would you help them with that?" Firrol whispered after an old man just passed by them on the sidewalk.

"Well," Melvin answered, "I'll help them get a new home, and then I'll get them new classes in the church so that they could make something out of their lives if they wanted."

"Was that Class Stone for one of them?" Firrol asked.

"Oh, that?" Melvin said, and then he gave a wry smile scratching his head, and said, "Oh yeah." Feeling slightly guilty over lying, but he couldn't help it.

The duo walked and walked, step after step, and one street after the other. Thirty or so minutes later, they found themselves in that familiar but not so familiar place.

Along the way, Melvin had stolen another thick black cloak that he wore and threw the long hood over his face. Seeing the tapestry of wooden shacks before him with that familiar smell of urine and fish stinging his nose, he felt conflicted. He really wanted to cut ties with his old gang but he remembered the coachman and, more so, the beast who ate one of their own. He had to do something to help them survive on their own, without him.

'I'll show you,' He hatefully thought, fists clenched in anger as he recalled how he was treated by the overweight coachman the last time.

"You used to live here?" Firrol asked, voice dripping with disgust at the environment, and pity at him.

Not wanting to discuss that situation for too long as it wasn't really Melvin who lived here, he just waved his hand dismissively and said, "Yeah, it's fine. Let's go."

Walking by the same road he had used to get there for the very first time, he encountered a lot of people on the way. He even saw the group of guys who tried to hassle him the second time he passed by it, and if there wasn't any risk of attracting too much attention he'd have gone to give them a beating they'll never forget. Something that will instill a bit of manners into them he thought.

Turning around, and around again, he found himself face to face with the shack's door that he was so familiar with. Recollections of what happened the last time flashed through his mind, how he had created his first rune here, killed, and all the rest of it.

At the periphery of his vision, he caught sight of a lot of the nearby residents of this area looking at him suspiciously. He reasoned it must be because what happened here must have been rather sensational in such a small place, and so instead of barging in, he just gently knocked on the door and waited.

Minute after minute, and knock after knock, yet no one responded. Melvin knew that they must've gone out to "work."

However, a sudden urge to get a last good look inside overtook him, and so after making sure that the people who were curiously looking at him previously no longer bothered after he stood there for a solid 10 minutes, he gently pushed the door open, and stepped inside with Firrol.

The moment he stepped inside, he was greeted by the intense stench of blood, death, and decay. Surprised that it would still smell this bad, he glanced up and froze because of what he saw.

In a macabre recreation, the center of the room was decorated with a pile of bodies surrounded by the four heads of his old gang. His entrance had startled the mass of flies feasting on the pooling blood and the resulting buzz of the flies lifting into the air was so deafening that Melvin felt he couldn’t even think. The expressions on the boy’s faces were frozen in pure terror as blood mixed with their tears in a shocking display of brutality.

The dam of his control threatened to burst from the upsurge of emotions, his eyes stinging with the threat of tears.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

"What..." He whispered in disbelief, as his right hand covered his mouth. With tears threatening to fall, he pressed his lips together and held his breath, struggling to regain control of himself.

Suddenly, the noise of the door scraping across the ground sounded behind him as it was violently opened.

Turning, he saw a row of armored guards through the opening door. Their expressions were determined and when their eyes met his, they doubled their efforts to get to him.

"Motherfuckers..." He cursed, clenching his fists until his knuckles were white. Without the slightest hesitation, he covered his head with his arms and charged at the wooden walls to the side. "Follow behind," He said.

The shack’s walls, piecemeal and weak, easily gave way as a 28 Strength was used to ram through them at Melvin’s maximum speed. Wood splinters flew all over the place as the wall broke in half and then the ceiling came crashing down, before the whole shack crumbled behind him.

Outside, three guards stood, apparently expecting him. Melvin connected the dots and realized what the guards had chosen to do to punish him. He briefly wondered how strong he could expect these guards to be since they were prepared for him but he was filled with such endless fury that he had no room for doubt about his own actions.

However, he was bound to find out as he tilted his torso to the side and sent one of his powerful kicks to the nearby guards.

The guard swiftly positioned his forearms to intersect in a protective stance before his chest, leveraging his arm guards as a shield against the imminent strike.

A booming sound echoed, and the guard slightly retreated back due to the immense strength he was attacked with.

Melvin's eyes widened in sheer pain, and the moment his legs pressed against the ground after the attack, even more pain coursed through his body.

"Fuck," He mumbled, and so understanding the guards' strength, he knew how he should proceed.

He ducked his head, dodging the sword slicing toward his throat. At the same time, Firrol pounced on the second guard who was trying to ram his shield into Melvin, shredding his face with his claws.

"We need to go," He said, dodging another sword slash, and then pulling the guard's arm before kicking him in the stomach with a knee. Glancing back, he noticed that Firrol was unable to escape the other guard's grasp.

His eyes shone with a vicious glint as he brandished both long daggers in front of him with a skillful and practiced motion.

The guard had his hands full defending against the impossibly agile claws of the cat he was barely holding on to. He felt his hair stand on end when he realized their quarry was now armed and heading toward him. Seeing how easily he dodged his comrade's attack as he walked toward him, the guard hesitated.

Just as Melvin was but an arm's length, he noticed the dozens or so guards who were at the door dashing in his direction. Gritting his teeth in hatred, he met the man's gaze once again and swiftly lunged at him.

Before the guard could react, the strongest punch Melvin was able to muster was planted on the man's nose, sending him tripping backward, his flailing arms releasing their hold on Firrol. Swiftly grabbing the cat's scruff, he bolted back the way he came, a crowd of soldiers following behind him with shouts and curses of their own.

Along the way, he helped Firrol to climb on his shoulders as he realized he would find that scruff hold humiliating, which he could clearly read from his unwilling deadpan expression.

Running through that vast cleared-out area beside the shacks, Melvin made their way toward the beginnings of the southwest neighborhoods beyond the shacks and the stables, and in them, he managed to lose all of the guards behind him, but his expression lacked any semblance of joy or victory.

After Firrol climbed down and continued walking matching his fast pace, he asked, "Do you know who might have done it?" His eyes looked hesitant, and even the voice sounded uncertain, unaware of how to broach such a sensitive subject.

Melvin knew that he must be worrying that he was wrecked over the loss of his childhood friends, but naturally, that wasn't the case. However, to say he was unaffected would be a lie. That sight was chilling and sent shivers running down his spine.

Witnessing such young and innocent lives disposed of in such a sick and twisted manner, he was left without words. He also realized that the method of killing wasn't purely coincidental, but there was a deep motive behind it, and if he were to guess, it must be also related to the news.

'Are those Laurelli family really the ones who killed Jacob in the beginning?' He thought, and the more he thought about it the more sense it made. 'But what could such a small nobody hold to possess them to chase him in such a disgusting and relentless manner?'

But then he thought, 'Or what does he know?'

He turned to Firrol and said, "It might be those who tried to kill me in the very beginning. Either that or the Ghoul..."

"The Ghoul?" Asked Firrol, seemingly unsure.

"He did say he will kill all of us if I don't give that money back," Melvin explained, "But we don't have to think too hard about that?"

"Why is that?"

"Well," Melvin said gnashing his teeth in hatred, "Won't we be paying him a visit today?"

After hearing his words, Firrol leads the way to the place described by the two guards, Evarius and Borus.

The duo walked in silence with Firrol uncomfortably glancing at Melvin from time to time, his mouth would open and close several times as if trying to say something before he would shake his head and give up, only to repeat the whole process after a while.

Melvin on the other was merely lost in his thoughts, and though his face looked rigid and cold, he realized that it was something that came with the body. Even if he wasn't feeling any particular way, the neutral resting appearance of his face made him appear emotionless and dangerous.

Noticing the cat's behavior, he remarked, "You know I've lost my memories right?"

Nodding in agreement, Firrol finally found a window of opportunity to speak and said, "Yes, and?"

"Well," Melvin explained, "As shocking as that was, I am not too affected by it because as things stand I know you more than I know them... you understand?"

Firrol's eyes lit up at that, finally understanding his point, and said, "I see...But it's still a bit difficult I think."

When asked why all he said in response was, "I don't know."