Chapter 1 : Prey

As far as Gods were concerned, Yarth-3b was a rather ordinary system world. Its three continents rose, twisted and crumpled on their great tectonic journeys through a great blue ocean. North of the equator and halfway shrouded in the white of winter laid the ragged expanse of land simply known as "The World" to its human inhabitants.

Near the centre of this continent stretched rather ordinary country with ordinary struggles. Arumeni suffered the occasional war, internal power struggle and inexplicable monster flare up. In its recently forested midlands stood the city of Breccon, once also of average size and noteworthiness. However after catastrophic mine collapse – following a still persisting bore-worm infestation 70 years back – the city had diminished in importance and since bled both coin and people.

But it was still beautiful. At its centre gathered elderly buildings of cold pale stone, their finely crafted arches and columns remaining defiant, speaking of noble glory in past centuries. Here and there squat circular towers wore their snow-capped conical wooden roofs and ornamental metal crests denoting some waxing or waning noble house or trading company. Further out though the buildings transitioned into simpler stone and wood.

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A young woman ran barefoot through the fresh snow carpeting the sparsely populated and messy outskirt streets. She weaved between abandoned carts, loitering pigoids in winter fur, and scattered remains of empty wooden barrels and crates.

Recently she had felt less bothered by the cold. Last week she managed to trap and kill a winter slime and reached level three, which must have increased her overall resilience. However, now she had lost her ill-fitting shoes in a section of deep snow and the cold was quickly getting to her. She clutched the lucky blue glass bead dangling on a string around her neck, just to check if it was there. It had been a present from her mother and she treasured it dearly.

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One of her hideouts was up ahead but upon seeing a man exiting a building she quickly detoured into a dirty alleyway. Here the snow turned into slush the colour of her rags. The whole city was looking for her. They had put up wanted posters with her face, somehow making her appear worse than she already looked. The posters, titled "Wanted: The Wretch of Breccon", showed caricature of a woman with long ragged black hair, a dirty scabbed face, mad gaunt eyes, and missing front teeth.

Technically all true, but still. It was not how she felt on the inside. Not how she had looked. Zhoey clearly remembered herself before the infection. Early on it would've been easy to cure for most – just a silver coin for a potion – but that was more than her family had or could easily earn. Her father had died in the bore-worm infested mines and her mother became a legless cripple after yet another cave in. So, they never earned that silver coin.

Trapped in poverty Zhoey had survived doing a mixture of theft, begging and dirty menial work. The former always proved more profitable. Few acknowledged that the blue scabs weren't really all that contagious, but an infected at her stage just looked very nasty so people kept their distance – all but the lone decrepit temple monk holed up in the temple monastery outside of the city.

She exited the alley and crossed another disused street, turned to look, then noticed red footsteps in the snow. Her numb feet must have stepped on a broken bottle somewhere. She swore and panicked, realising that she'd lead the pursuers right to her hideout.

The whole thing didn't make any sense – she was a level three and the murder victim was probably in the thirties and immune to any sort of damage she could dish out, not to mention difficult to sneak up upon. Most likely the city lord himself had done it. The city had a tradition where anyone could challenge the city lord for the position, but certain rules had to be observed with both parties agreeing to an open duel – often resulting in a dead body, sometimes two. However, rumour had it that the current city lord preferred to safely and quietly dispose of potential threats preemptively... something which certainly would be frowned upon if done blatantly. To turn down a duel from a strong opponent also counted as cowardice from a weak city lord.

Thus, Zhoey had been framed for a murder. It didn't matter how likely it seemed; it was a distraction, and her execution would be entertainment. The city would be rid of a pest. Everyone would be happy.