Fangs of Honor, A Knights Journey
The Underbelly sprawled beneath the rise of Ryke’s towering capital like an oil stain, a murky web of alleys and sun-starved streets stitched together by shadows. Here, where the morning light was thin and tarnished, seeping through layers of grime that clung to crooked rooftops, deals were struck with whispers and coins glinted in quick hands, eager to vanish. The heart of the city thrummed with the hum of secrets and the subtle stink of desperation, and yet, on the outskirts—just where light dared to nudge the edges of the darkened maze—was where the refuse often found itself spat out.
“Get out of here, mongrel!” A boot jabbed his side, sending him stumbling onto his paws. Hideki let out a low, guttural growl, though he kept it muffled—his protests were as useless as they were inaudible. A dozen times he had tried to speak, to let his words cut through the stale air and claim his name, his purpose. But his voice had been stolen by the curse that had trapped him in this forsaken form, his words as mute as a ghost’s.
He huffed, a long-suffering sigh rattling from his chest as he lowered his head and slunk away, retreating along the narrow, dirt-rutted path. People here feared him, recoiling from his size, the way his eyes burned with unnatural intelligence. But it wasn’t just fear that kept them distant; it was the indifference bred in places like this. He was nothing to them, a stray, a specter of the underworld, hardly worth a glance.
Each step took him further from the tavern, and soon the cracked cobblestones gave way to the sparse, wild grass that clung to the town’s edge, where the twisted buildings were fewer and the sound of city life softened to a murmur. Here, at least, he could pause and breathe, his golden eyes narrowing as he watched the city’s silhouette stand against the sky.
Here, where the cobblestones surrendered to thin, untamed grass, Hideki paused. He stared into the distance, toward the capital beyond, his gaze softened by something close to longing. For somewhere in this strange land, there must be a place, a purpose. He had been cursed due to his ego. And this world had worked to temper his Ego down. But it had yet to reach the quiet ember of his will. In this cursed body, he was learning patience, endurance, qualities he had once taken for granted. There was still a path ahead, one that stretched far beyond the borders of The Underbelly, whispering of something worthy, something noble.
For all the grit and hostility of this place, he felt the familiar tug of resolve. Somewhere in this world, answers awaited him. And until he found them, he would endure, like stone beneath a river, unmoved by the current of disdain that surrounded him. He would find his way back to Ayumi. But it sure would help to have someone to speak for him. The wolf snorted, as he considered the option of playing "The good Boy". He sat quietly just outside of town, trying not to bother anyone in particular. Though it might be hard to miss the very large shaggy black wolf that looked as if he were starving.
Crescent King
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