In Redriver City, under the faint moonlight, a small house glowed with lamplight from its window.
Alisha had just arrived from Cesecity, weary from travel. Her brother’s letter had said he was dying, so she’d come for one last goodbye.
She hadn’t told Kaelxi—didn’t want her worrying.
After all, Alisha herself was old. Such grief might break her too.
Some elders couldn’t survive losing loved ones. Their hearts would shatter, and they’d follow soon after.
Alisha hadn’t planned to see her brother tonight. She’d wanted him to rest.
But when the old man heard she’d arrived past midnight, he struggled to sit up anyway.
Led by a slave, Alisha entered his pitch-black bedroom.
She lit an oil lamp.
The flickering flame cast light on his gaunt face, adding a faint flush to his ashen skin.
“Alisha… glad you came.”
“This time… I won’t make it.”
The frail man on the bed was the grandson of Alisha’s grandfather’s brother.
They’d grown up together—he was slightly older, like a brother to her.
“No. You will.”
Alisha held his hand, comforting him.
“I know my own body better than anyone,” he said with a bitter smile.
“These past months… I’ve felt my limbs grow heavier.”
“At first, just unsteady steps.”
“Now… I can’t even sit up… *cough*… *cough*…”
His skeletal frame rattled with each cough.
“Take it slow,” Alisha murmured, gently propping him up.
He weakly waved her off.
“No time left.”
“You mentioned… adopting a granddaughter. Kaelxi.”
“The runaway slave—the one the Elf Slave Catcher Squad hunted. The one with the citywide warrant!”
Alisha froze. She yanked the curtains shut and locked the door tight.
Leaning close, she whispered: “Who else knows?”
“No one. Just us.”
“Alisha… I know you value family above all. Like me. That’s why we stayed close all these years.”
“Living in separate cities… but our bond never faded.”
Suddenly, he forced himself upright. “So Kaelxi—*my* granddaughter too.”
“The Slave Catchers scoured the streets for her last week. Now I hear whispers… they’ll search neighboring cities next.”
“Run. Take her far away!”
“Flee to the capital! No one dares break the law under the King’s gaze—especially cowardly slavers!”
He collapsed into violent coughing.
Alisha softly patted his back, sitting silently by his bed.
At dawn, sunlight streamed through the window. The old man slipped away peacefully, Alisha at his side.
Alisha opened the door, hollow with grief, ready to tell his grandson the news.
Instead, a freckled youth with straw-blond hair barged in. He slapped the old man’s forehead. No response.
“The old bastard’s finally dead! All his money’s mine now!” he crowed, clapping.
“You treat your own grandfather like this?” Alisha’s voice trembled with fury. His letters had called the boy reckless and immature—but this utter lack of heart?
“You dried-up hag, what do you know?” He sneered. “He wouldn’t let me beat my slaves! Said ‘we’re all human’—bullshit!”
“Slaves aren’t human! They’re worth less than my dog!” He kicked the slave who’d guided Alisha last night. When the man curled up sobbing, he kicked him again. And again.
“He starved me! Gambling debts? I’d win it back! Brothels? Opium? Every young man does it!”
“Now he’s dead—I’ll spend *harder*. Smoke *harder*!” His foot stilled. The slave lay motionless. Kicked to death.
Alisha choked on her horror, speechless.
Bored with the corpse, the youth glared at her.
“Get out, old bitch.”
“Your job’s done. Leave my house.”
“Stay, and I’ll kick *you* dead too!” He shook his fist at the frail woman.
Alisha swallowed her rage. She had to warn Kaelxi—get her to the capital.
No one defied the law under the wise, mighty King!
And she buried her last hope for “little Jack”—the grandson the old man had believed might change.
Beyond saving.
Alisha shuddered, imagining Kaelxi—a slave—in the hands of such monsters.
She hadn’t slept. Now she raced back to Cesecity.
.............
Kaelxi had tucked Witt into her bed, his wounds bandaged.
*So thoughtful. Such skilled hands. And that figure…*
Witt’s mind wandered. Last night’s steamy flashes haunted him.
Kaelxi tried to scowl, but a blush crept up her cheeks.
Time to reassert authority. She cleared her throat.
“Witt. What *really* happened last night?”
No mere beating by a mine boss could cause these injuries.
Witt vividly recounted the mine brawl: clashing with the foreman, executing the Professionals, his final desperate duel with John.
Kaelxi was speechless—not at his recklessness, but his terrifying power.
She hesitated. “So… that ‘sun’ last night?”
“My Bronze Rank fireball spell.”
*You’re an overpowered protagonist!* Kaelxi thought. *Who hits this strong at Bronze?!*
Witt suddenly gripped her shoulders. “The rumors… about you and those men. Was it true?”
Regret hit him instantly. *Stupid! She was forced!*
*I’m a monster.*
Seeing his anguish, Kaelxi’s eyes sparkled with mischief.
*He feels guilty. Oh, he feels guilty.* She nearly giggled.
She covered her face, fake tears dripping between her fingers—peeking through to watch Witt panic.
*Sucker. Watch me wrap you around my finger.*
