"Oro?"
Briskly walking ahead, half lost in thought, instinctively dodging oncoming walkers and merchants, Orochi did not hear Althea.
"Oro?" she repeated, more insistently.
Finally glancing back, Orochi realised she had been trying to get his attention. He still was not used to the new name.
"Oro, we have to talk. Part of my duty means I will not ask questions. It is not my place. But my duty is also to protect you."
They slowed as they walked through the street. Hundreds of people went about their daily business. Turning the corner into the central marketplace, they were swallowed by stalls, voices, and overlapping conversations. No one would hear them here.
"I will not ask how you knew who the physician was. But what you offered him is unacceptable. I cannot stand by and let this happen."
Orochi stopped abruptly, earning annoyed looks as people diverted around them.
"You are upset that I offered our lives to a madman?" he asked, genuinely surprised. It was the first time Althea had openly disagreed with him. He had not realised she could.
"I am opposed to you offering yours."
There was steel in her eyes when she said it.
"It is not a matter of opinion. In accordance with Nagalon Law, you are going beyond Ancestral Rite. Not only that, to equate my life to yours violates Inheritance. You are a Moon-Born."
Ancestral Rite was a doctrine established at the founding of Nagalon. A hierarchy of human worth. Spirit Users stood above Normies. Slaves below all. Gods above everything. A hierarchy aligned with Nature itself. Survival of the fittest. Might made right. Value dictated position.
Orochi glanced around the bustling city. The palace loomed in the distance, housing Spirit Users above the masses. Normies filled the streets. Slaves moved everywhere, unseen and uncounted.
"I have no right to Ancestral Rite," Orochi replied calmly. "Right now I am a slave. In fact, as a Normie, you would be above me. So no, I would not be breaking Nagalon Law. If anything, your life should be the one excluded."
Even as he said it, he knew it was a cheap shot. Costumes did not erase reality.
Althea's lips twitched with restrained irritation. She lowered her voice.
"You are a Moon-Born."
The words came through clenched teeth. This mattered to her.
Inheritance governed the internal hierarchy of noble houses. Orochi had read extensively on Moon-Born customs. Some were bizarre enough to make him wonder what incident had ever justified them. One rule even dictated that if a Moon-Born wore a hat, no subordinate was allowed to wear one of equal or greater height.
"Who makes the Laws of Inheritance among the Moon-Borns?" Orochi asked.
"The head of the family," Althea replied instantly, already uneasy.
"And whose Laws of Inheritance are you under, Althea?"
She opened her mouth to answer.
Then stopped.
The fire in her eyes dimmed. Realisation settled in. She was no longer bound to House Moon-Born. Her oath had been severed. The Laws of Inheritance no longer applied.
A small smile appeared on Orochi's face as he watched understanding dawn in her widened eyes.
There was only one oath left.
To him.
"Now you fall under my Inheritance," Orochi said. "So get used to it."
With that, he turned and continued walking.
Althea stood stunned for a heartbeat, then hurried after him. It did not take long to catch up to a child's brisk stride.
"Regardless, we have no money to start this business. Do you truly have a plan?" The words were doubtful. Althea had a feeling Orochi was thinking far ahead.
"Sort of," Orochi replied mildly, picking a coin from Althea's pocket and handing it to a fruit vendor as he bought an apple, eating as they made their way down an alleyway. Althea was too distracted to notice their direction.
"Sort of?" Althea echoed.
"Do you know why the Ripper doesn't just buy slaves to harvest organs?" Orochi quizzed.
Puzzled, Althea thought for a moment, realising it was a good question. Snatching random people or kidnapping slaves who were property of others seemed far too dangerous.
"Profit margins," Orochi lectured mid crunch. "Slaves are expensive. Steal a slave but that has a problem tied to the first problem. People don't like losing expensive things. It was bound to happen that the black market would collapse when robbing ordinary citizens."
Althea nodded slowly, seeing the logic behind the economics.
"However criminals... well, let's just say people care less for them. They take up space. Space paid for by citizens. It would cause far less outrage if a few prisoners go missing. A lot of things need to be done. But before all of that, we will need a lot of money."
"This will be a heavy expense," Althea muttered before breaking into a smile. "Yet I know you already have that all planned out."
A moment of silence passed as Orochi shot her a look before finishing his apple.
The elf paled. "You do have a way to make money, right?"
"Didn't get that far yet."
"What?"
Orochi shrugged. "We were in a tight situation. Not every detail is ironed out just yet."
"We have two weeks."
"That we do."
Exasperated, Althea ran her hands through her snow white hair, trying to keep the worry out of her voice. "So where are we going?"
"Going to find something to fill the hole," Orochi replied. He was deadly serious.
Part of the reason he met the Ripper first was the deadline. Orochi understood both the Imposter and the original Orochi. He was the culmination of both. Neither were pro-active people. In their own worlds they drifted, languid, until their own downfall by their own hand.
This way, Orochi would be forced.
The knowledge of the Imposter and the raw emotions of a child would drive his mind toward a solution. At least, that was the hope.
They were now in the lower parts of the city. The slums.
Neither of them realised it until Orochi stepped on scattered rubbish, finally looking up to see flimsy houses stacked atop one another, blocking most of the sunlight. Narrow paths twisted between structures. The air was thick with rot. Rats scurried openly. Flies buzzed around a half decayed animal kicked to the side of the road.
It was also unusually quiet.
For the most populated section of Seabore City, there were far too few people.
"Where is everyone?" Althea asked.
Orochi did not answer immediately. His gaze drifted across the street.
A handful of elderly figures sat outside doorways made of hanging cloth. Some smoked thin pipes. Others drank from battered flasks. Their eyes were dull, unfocused. No children ran between homes. No merchants shouted prices.
Then Orochi felt it.
A vibration beneath his feet.
Subtle at first. Almost easy to dismiss.
Thump.
Thump. Thump.
His brow furrowed.
An earthquake? No. The timing was wrong. Too steady. Too deliberate.
He crouched suddenly, pressing his palms to the stone before lowering his head and flattening his ear against the ground.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
A rhythm.
Not destruction.
A chant.
His head snapped up just as two teenagers sprinted past them, nearly colliding with Althea.
"Hurry up!" one shouted back over his shoulder. "It's almost starting!"
They vanished down a narrow alley.
Orochi and Althea locked eyes.
Without a word, Althea took the lead.
They followed.
The alleyways twisted tighter, plunging deeper into the slums. Buildings leaned inward, blotting out daylight until it felt like dusk. The walls were damp and slick, hands brushing against stone as they moved. The air grew heavier, thick with sweat, iron, and something sour.
The boys ahead moved without hesitation, darting through the maze as if they knew it by instinct.
Then stairs appeared.
Stone steps worn smooth by countless feet descended into darkness.
The thumping grew louder.
Deeper.
They went down.
The passage opened suddenly.
Noise crashed over them like a tidal wave.
Thousands of feet slammed against the ground in unison. Cheers, screams, curses, laughter. The cavern was vast, reinforced with timber and iron, torches lining the walls and casting wild shadows as bodies surged together.
An underground fighting pit.
No.
Several.
Multiple rings sprawled across the chamber. In one, two half starved men battered each other barehanded, blood spraying across the dirt. In another, chained slaves fought with rusted weapons while overseers screamed orders. Further back, hounds tore into one another, teeth snapping as handlers roared encouragement.
Coins exchanged hands constantly. Shouted odds echoed through the space. Ledgers slammed shut. Normies, slaves, and the desperate stood shoulder to shoulder, united by hunger for violence and coin.
This was the city beneath the city.
Althea turned slowly, eyes wide, taking it all in. Her posture shifted subtly, protective instincts flaring as she scanned exits and threats.
Orochi did not look around.
He stared straight ahead.
At the rings.
At the crowds.
At the river of money flowing through blood and noise.
The rhythm beneath his feet made sense now.
His fingers curled.
Something clicked.
A slow smile spread across his face.
He had found it.
The answer.
And for the first time since entering Seabore City, Orochi knew exactly how they were going to make their fortune.