Shinkotsu merely traded the warmth of the sun for the amber warmth of a thousand mana lamps to cast a hazy, golden glow over its cobblestone streets.
Throbbing with the chaotic heartbeat of the night, Shinkotsu transformed into a vibrant mosaic of nightlife that celebrated today.
This joy permeated every corner of the city, finding one of the loudest expressions of that joy at the entrance of ’The Gilded Boar.’
-Bang!
The oak door of that tavern flung open with a violence that spilled a quintet of drunks onto the street.
Luger stumbled out first, his face flushed a blotchy crimson while his eyes swam in a haze of spirits, forcing him to lean heavily on Laro’s shoulder to keep the world from tilting sideways.
"I’m tellin’ you..." Luger slurred, spitting a glob of phlegm onto the clean pavement with a sneer. "That little shit is worm food by now. Arlath loves play with his food... he probably pulled that kid’s spine out through his ass just for the fun of it."
"Hehe... serves him right," Laro giggled, his lizard-eyes glazed and unfocused. "Thinking he could humiliate us... steal our gear... and walk away?"
"He walked away to his grave!" The Dog-man barked a wet laugh, slapping his knee while swaying dangerously on the spot, "Arlath is a Tier 4... and he had Voss and that Elf with him. That kid didn’t stand a chance. He’s probably crying for his mommy right now in hell."
The group erupted into a chorus of raucous laughter, high on the vicarious victory and drunk on the certainty that at the end of the day, they had the last laugh.
Yet, one voice remained silent amidst the guffaws.
The Fox-man trailed a few steps behind, his ears flattened against his head.
"But... Luger," the Fox-man stammered, wringing his hands together as the implication of Nico’s death gnawed at his gut. "If the kid is really dead... then the Dragon dies too. The Familiar Bond works both ways."
The laughter died down instantly as the group turned to look at him, their expressions souring at the buzzkill.
"So what?" Luger grunted, narrowing his eyes.
"So... we lose an ace," the Fox-man whispered, looking up at the night sky. "We don’t have a Crusader to handle the front lines for this year’s Night of the Red Moon... and without that Greater Dragon’s firepower..."
The reality of his words hung in the air like a noxious cloud.
Shinkotsu relied on heavy hitters to survive the annual catastrophe, and they had just arranged the death of one of the biggest guns in the city.
Luger shoved Laro aside to stagger toward the Fox-man, grabbing the collar of his leather armor.
"Shut your trap, Ren," Luger hissed, his breath reeking of cheap wine and venom. "Who cares about the city? Worry about your own neck."
He leaned in closer, his eyes darting paranoically toward the shadows of the alleyway.
"The kid’s sister... that Peko woman... word is she’s a Tier 5 monster herself. If she finds out we sent Arlath... the Red Moon will be the least of our problems."
He shoved the Fox-man back as she said, "So keep your mouth shut. As long as Arlath does his job and keeps his trap shut... no one will know."
Luger glared at the man until he saw the trembling nod.
"I gotta leak," Luger grunted, shoving Fox-man aside with a heavy hand before stumbling away from the circle to seek the darkness of the nearest alley.
He navigated the trash-filled path with swaying steps, guiding his body deeper into the shadows until the laughter of his streets faded.
The alley was narrow and smelled of wet rot and urine.
Stopping before a darkened section of the back wall, his fingers fumbled clumsily with the buckle of his belt while he hummed a disjointed, victorious tune to fill the silence.
-Clink.
The leather finally gave way.
And just as he reached for his zipper, his gaze drifting lazily upward as he prepared to relieve himself against the wall.
The wall moved.
A drop of thick, cold slime landed on the bridge of his nose, sliding down to his lip and freezing the breath in his lungs.
Luger blinked, his drunken mind struggling to process the sensation, until the wall in front of him tore open with a wet, sickening sound.
A massive, vertical maw stretched open in the darkness, curving around him from both sides to box him in.
Rows of serrated, needle-thin teeth glistened with neon-violet saliva, framing a throat that pulsed with a starving, rhythmic contraction that sent the scent of ozone and ancient decay shoving into his nose.
And then, the darkness inside the throat looked back.
-Snap.
Ten... twenty... fifty eyes snapped open simultaneously within the maw.
Mismatched, bloodshot orbs of varying sizes, rolling wildly for a fraction of a second before locking onto him with an unblinking intelligence that stripped him naked.
The alcohol in his blood turned to ice instantly.
His bladder locked up with a painful spasm as the primitive terror hijacked his very soul, seizing his muscles in a statue-like paralysis that denied him even the mercy of collapsing.
He stood there, clutching his half-open trousers with trembling fingers, staring into the face of a nightmare that defied every law of nature he knew.
Luger’s heart hammered against his chest with a violence that mimicked a seizure, each beat sending a spike of agonizing pressure shooting down his left arm while his eyes bulged in their sockets.
Foam gathered at the corners of his lips, his body locking into a rigid, convulsive spasm that denied him even the release of fainting.
And the next moment, the dam holding back his sanity finally fractured.
Air sucked into his lungs in a desperate, ragged wheeze as he forced his paralyzed jaw open to unleash a scream that would tear his vocal cords apart, but-
-SHLUUP.
Like a tidal wave of living tar, the maw closed shut around him, swallowing him whole before the sound could leave his throat.
In the span of a single heartbeat, the eldritch nightmare reverted seamlessly back into a mundane, moss-covered brick wall, leaving the alley empty and silent, as if nothing had ever happened at all.