The City of Chagas
The city of Chagas was a grim portrait of human decay. A dense fog hovered over the streets, carrying the stench of disease and despair. Narrow alleys and dark lanes teemed with hunched figures—people who looked more like shadows, hiding their bodies and faces beneath tattered cloaks, protecting themselves against both the cold and prying eyes.
The main roads, paved with dirty, worn stones, were lit by weak oil lanterns whose flames flickered as if struggling against the darkness. At every corner, there were scenes of degradation: men and women sprawled in the gutters, drunk and sick; mothers clutching emaciated children whose hollow eyes begged for any scrap; entire families broken by hunger, offering the remnants of their dignity just to survive another day.
In a dark alley, a small group had gathered around an improvised fire, fed by scraps of wood and trash. Their faces were angular and gaunt, eyes glinting with the paranoia of those who live in constant fear. The city's silence was disturbing, broken only by the sound of dry coughs, moans of pain, and the occasional sob of a child.
Zeke walked beside Akari, his discomfort plainly visible. He looked at a beggar who was coughing violently as he extended his skeletal hand toward them.
Zeke said, "This… this isn't life. How can anyone survive here?"
Akari tightened her grip on her sword's hilt, trying to look away.
"They're not surviving. They're just… waiting for the end," she replied.
Gotier, trailing just behind, murmured a prayer, his face hidden beneath his hood's shadow.
"The church was meant to be a beacon of hope, but here… it's become a temple of decay. All of this… because of them," he whispered.
The Pleasure of Mao and the Pragmatism of Amok
Inside Yuzuki's mind, Mao watched the scene with almost childlike but perverse enthusiasm.
"Look at this, Yuzuki! A paradise of suffering! Every corner tells a story of misery. It's as if this city was made just for me," Mao exulted.
Yuzuki frowned, his gaze fixed on a woman carrying a baby while dragging her starving husband, both offering their bodies to anyone who would pay. He took a deep breath, trying to silence Mao's voice, but the demon persisted.
"Can you smell it? The rot, the hopelessness? Ah, it's so… alive! Isn't that what defines humanity? This delicate balance between hunger and madness?"
Before Yuzuki could answer, Amok intervened in a cold, pragmatic tone.
"This isn't life. It's only a natural cycle: the weak fall so the strong may feed. What you see here isn't an exception; it's the rule. This city is just the most visible example of how the world really works," Amok observed.
"You two are wrong," Yuzuki muttered under his breath.
Kaien, perched on his shoulder, cocked his head curiously.
"Who are you talking to?" the little dragon asked.
Yuzuki shook his head, as if dismissing it, and continued walking.
The Darkness of the Black Market
The group pressed on toward the heart of the city, where the black market stood. A Gothic stone building with narrow, barred windows exuded a suffocating atmosphere. The main entrance was flanked by burly guards, armed to the teeth and bearing scars that told stories of past violence.
Inside, the smell of sweat, blood, and cheap spices mingled in the thick air. Iron cages lined the halls, containing exotic animals and chained humans. Some of the prisoners bore dragon-shaped burn marks on their chests—symbols that seemed to pulse with dark energy.
Zeke froze in horror when he spotted a girl with wide, terrified eyes locked in one of the cages.
"This is… monstrous. How can they treat people like livestock?" he whispered.
Akari fought to maintain her composure, her fists clenched in anger.
"They don't see people. They see merchandise," she replied through gritted teeth.
Gotier stopped before a cage holding a man branded with the dragon mark. The man was hunched over, eyes glowing with an unnatural fever.
"That mark… it's the Lepra King's. He's behind this. These are the fruits of his diseased empire," Gotier observed grimly.
Kaien leaned forward, whispering to Yuzuki.
"This will only get worse. Can't you feel it in the air?"
Yuzuki simply nodded, his eyes on a child crying silently inside another cage. Inside his mind, Mao laughed.
"What a spectacle! A sale of bodies and souls! It's poetry, Yuzuki. Every scream, every tear, every agonized breath… it's what keeps the world spinning."
"You're pathetic," Yuzuki replied coldly.
"And you're blind," Mao shot back. "You fight against this, but you know it's useless. Accept it. This is the world we live in."
Gotier, Zeke, and Kaien resumed their uneasy march through the market's darkness, each bearing the weight of Chagas in their own way. Poverty, sickness, and violence were so omnipresent they felt suffocating.
Gotier suddenly halted, pointing toward a Gothic church on the horizon. Its towers reached skyward, but the building looked dilapidated—stained glass shattered and walls blackened by soot.
"There it is. The root of it all. From there, the Lepra King and his accomplices control this city," he said quietly.
Akari looked at him, puzzled.
"You mean the church?"
Gotier nodded.
"It should be a place of hope, but it's become a fortress of corruption. We need to infiltrate it and find out what they're planning."
Yuzuki stopped, his gaze sweeping the crowd around them.
"We must be careful. This city is full of eyes and ears. One wrong move and we're done for."
Amok's cold voice echoed in his mind.
"No matter how hard you fight, this city already belongs to the strong. Just watch it crumble."
Mao, still laughing, added, "Crumble? No, Amok. This city thrives on chaos."
As night fell, the shadows of Chagas seemed to swallow everything in sight, bringing with them the promise of new dangers—and revelations.
"The Red Eclipse God"
The night was heavy and silent in the city of Chagas. The group sought refuge in an inn on the brink of chaos. The aging, time-worn building seemed to bear its own dark stories etched into cracked walls and decayed furniture. The windows barely kept out the cold wind that swept through the halls, carrying the bitter scent of alcohol, filth, and despair.
The main hall bustled, but in a way that only made the place more uncomfortable. All the patrons were outsiders, each stranger than the last, their gazes laden with secrets and hidden intentions. Some whispered quietly, exchanging filthy coins for small bundles, while others watched in silence, tense and predatory.
An elderly woman, bent with age, tended the counter. A peculiar tattoo of a red eclipse glowed on her neck by candlelight. Father Gotier froze when he noticed it, his face tightening with a mixture of fear and rage.
"Gotier?" Akari asked, sensing his discomfort.
He did not answer immediately. He only averted his gaze, clutching the crucifix in his hand.
"Is everything all right?" Zeke pressed, but Gotier merely murmured a prayer and remained silent.
The group climbed the stairs to their room—a cramped, stifling space with four simple beds, covered in faded, musty sheets. Kaien, perched on Yuzuki's shoulder, quipped sarcastically, "Luxurious. Almost feels like a palace."
Yuzuki spared Kaien a brief glance. "I'm starting to like you," he thought. He dropped his pack beside one of the beds and collapsed onto it with a weary sigh. Kaien settled on the floor next to him, crossing his little dragon arms in satisfaction at the arrangement.
Night dragged on. While most tried to sleep, Gotier lay awake, staring at the ceiling as though it held the past he so desperately tried to forget. Finally, he rose, retrieved a bottle of whisky from his satchel, and stepped onto the balcony. He opened the door and let the cold wind in, carrying distant sounds of the city. Gotier leaned on the iron railing, his gaze lost in the vast misery of Chagas he knew all too well.
Yuzuki awoke to the cold draft invading the room. He sat up, eyes half‑closed, and saw Gotier on the balcony, motionless, whisky in hand. Silently rising, he approached the priest.
"What is it, Gotier?" Yuzuki rasped.
Gotier did not reply. He lifted the bottle to his lips and took another drink, eyes fixed on the city. Yuzuki sighed, took the bottle from Gotier's hand, and swallowed a long pull himself. Then he lit a cigarette and leaned on the railing beside the priest.
"Let's avenge your daughter and your wife, Gotier," Yuzuki said, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "I know too well what it is to lose everything and have nothing but rage and sorrow to hold on to."
Gotier remained silent for a moment before asking, "How do you see me, Yuzuki?"
The question caught Yuzuki off guard. He studied the man before him, then replied, "Someone who saves souls. A kind and gentle priest who respects all living things."
Gotier laughed, an ironic, bitter sound. "Kind and gentle… But you don't even know which God we worship, do you?"
Yuzuki shook his head, intrigued.
"The church was founded centuries ago—exactly four hundred years ago," Gotier began, his tone grave. "We worship the God of the Red Eclipse. The first devotee of this God was Mustaf. He came from the same island you were born on, Yuzuki. Mustaf was the first Pope. He established the church's laws, dogmas, and rituals."
Yuzuki listened intently, eyes locked on the priest. Gotier continued, "We believe the God of the Eclipse governs life and death. The rituals and sacrifices of the faithful strengthen him. He walks among us, but no one knows where—perhaps only the current Pope does."
Yuzuki took another swig of whisky before saying, "I don't believe in gods. I think it's all a deception."
Gotier gave a bitter smile. "Neither did I."
He turned to Yuzuki, eyes heavy with sorrow. "I was born in a garbage sack, Yuzuki. A junkie left me at an orphanage. I grew up in the worst city on Pangeia. There, ninety percent of the children were killed by their own parents for lack of food."
Gotier paused, his thoughts drifting to that painful past. "In the orphanage, we watched friends die of hunger and disease. We scrounged rats and cockroaches to survive. The river was contaminated—smelled of rotting flesh because people threw themselves into it to die."
"And you survived," murmured Yuzuki.
"Surviving, Yuzuki, is not living," Gotier replied. "At fifteen, I stole and killed—didn't matter good or bad—to get food. By twenty, I was a notorious murderer. At twenty‑three, the church arrived in the city. They offered me money, power, and a chance to change my life. That's how it began."
Gotier turned back to the city as the chapter ended, his unspoken words carried into the cold night by the wind.