The darkness beneath the city of Saint Veren's Gate was not the absence of light, but a living, breathing, foul-smelling entity. Inside the labyrinth of damp sewers, where wastewater flowed like black blood from the arteries of a sick city, a white shadow darted with a speed that defied the friction of water and air.
Stormclaw.
She was naked; her usually pristine white fur was now dulled by mud and sewer filth. The wounds on her body—remnants of the brutal battle against Reven on the burning rooftop—had closed, with new pink scar tissue forming beneath her fur, signaling a slow but certain regeneration. However, the physical wounds paled in comparison to the gaping crater left within her soul.
"Hah... Hah..."
Her breath came in ragged gasps, not from exhaustion, but from a rage burning like a furnace inside her chest. She leaped over rusted pipes, her claws gripping the slippery concrete, propelling her body forward in a desperate search.
She was hunting for that scent. The scent of the Immortal.
"Where are you... Master?" she growled, her voice echoing through the narrow tunnel.
Her nose, a sense far sharper than any eye, dissected the foul air of the sewers. She separated the smell of sewage, the scent of diseased sewer rats, and the odor of carelessly dumped industrial chemicals. She searched for one specific aroma: the faint scent of ozone, ancient tomb dust, and... something difficult to explain, like a cold void.
She had combed every inch of the underground system beneath the harbor district. Nothing. She had gone up to the surface, slipping through the shadows of narrow alleys, evading the Ebony Guard patrols that were still on high alert post-explosion.
And finally, she found it.
In an isolated narrow alley, where rainwater puddles mixed with oil, Stormclaw skidded to a halt. Her nose twitched.
"Here..." she whispered.
There was a trace of the Immortal's scent here. Strong. Clear. But the smell was mixed with something else. Something that made the fur on Stormclaw's nape stand on end and static electricity begin to spark from her fingertips.
The smell of antiseptic. The smell of synthetic blood. The smell of madness.
"Reven," she hissed, the name tasting like poison on her tongue.
She looked down, scanning the ground. There were signs of a struggle. Scratches on the bricks. And there, the Immortal's scent suddenly... vanished. Cut off abruptly, as if his existence had been erased from this world.
"Impossible..."
Stormclaw sniffed again, deeper, more frantic. If the Immortal's scent was gone, where did it go? She followed the trail of another scent left there—a strong vampire scent, mixed with expensive cologne and clove tobacco.
She followed that trail a few meters toward a large metal dumpster overturned in the corner of the alley. With one rough jerk of her hand, she tore the lid open.
Inside, folded unnaturally amidst rotting food scraps, was the corpse of a vampire. His face was smashed beyond recognition, as if struck repeatedly with a blunt object—or a very powerful fist. His clothes had been stripped off.
Stormclaw stared at the corpse coldly. This was not what she was looking for. However, on top of the corpse, and around the area where the Immortal's trail vanished, there was a new smell.
An unfamiliar smell.
It smelled similar to the Immortal, yet... different. Sharper. More "alive." There was a strong scent of musk, aggressive pheromones, and something sweet like fresh blood that hadn't yet dried. It was the scent of a predator.
"What actually happened here?"
Stormclaw took a step back, her mind reeling. Reven was here. The Immortal was here. Then the Immortal vanished, and this new smell appeared, wearing the vampire's clothes (she could smell the lingering vampire scent fading, overlaid by this new odor), and walked away.
Did Reven do something to Master? Did she... change him? Like she changed me?
Images of Reven's cold laboratory, gleaming scalpels, and the unimaginable pain as her body was dissected and stitched back together with electricity flooded her mind. That trauma, which she thought she had buried under layers of discipline and physical training, exploded back to the surface.
"GGRAAAAHHH!"
Stormclaw turned and darted back into the sewers, unable to bear the open air that seemed to mock her helplessness.
She landed at a vast junction of waterways. She stopped, her body trembling violently. Yellow electricity began to arc uncontrollably around her body, shattering the light bulbs on the tunnel ceiling.
She stared at her own palms—hands that were a fusion of cat claws and human fingers.
"I... I had become strong," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I trained. I meditated. I controlled it."
But Reven returned. That demon woman returned and easily destroyed everything. Lily was dead. Master was missing. And she... she could only run.
"DAMMIT!"
BAM!
Her fist slammed into the concrete wall of the sewer. Cracks spread like a spiderweb, and the impact shook dust loose from the ceiling.
"DAMN IT! DAMN IT! DAMN IT!"
BAM! BAM! BAM!
She pounded the wall again and again, letting the physical pain in her knuckles distract her from the pain in her heart. Blood began to drip from her hands, mixing with the wastewater beneath her feet.
After the wall crumbled into rubble, Stormclaw stood there, panting, her chest heaving heavily.
"That new smell..." she murmured, her yellow eyes glowing in the darkness. "That smell went to the station. If that is Master... or whatever is left of him... I will find him."
With one swift movement, she darted into the darkness of the tunnel, leaving destruction and despair in her wake.
"Attention passengers. The Intercontinental Magitech Train will be arriving shortly at Vesperia Central Station. Please ensure no luggage is left behind, and ensure your soul remains inside your body. Thank you for choosing to travel with us."
The smooth, automated voice of the announcement pulled Devon from his fitful doze.
"Mghh..."
Devon opened his eyes slowly. The view of the luxurious carriage ceiling greeted him. He sat up, his joints making a cracking sound as he stretched muscles stiff from sitting too long. The journey from Saint Veren's Gate to Vesperia had taken longer than he estimated, and this economy class seat, though cushioned, was not designed for someone with his new, taller and broader physique.
"Ah... I fell asleep," he muttered, rubbing his blood-red eyes.
He looked around. The carriage was starting to empty. The passengers—mostly well-dressed vampires and middle-class demons—began packing and moving toward the exit in an orderly fashion. No chaos, no shouting, just cold, civilized efficiency.
Devon stood up, smoothing out his stolen black suit which was now slightly wrinkled. He grabbed his sling bag and walked out, following the flow of passengers.
As he stepped off the train and set foot on the platform of Vesperia Central Station, his eyes widened slightly.
If Saint Veren's Gate was a gloomy, monster-filled 19th-century London, then Vesperia was a futuristic metropolis built upon a Gothic nightmare.
The station itself was a marvel. The ceiling was a giant glass dome revealing a sky of eternal twilight, but here, the air was clean. No smog, no smell of sewage. The floor was made of polished white marble, and the pillars were adorned with magitech neon glowing softly in gold and silver.
Devon walked out of the station and was greeted by the cityscape. Skyscrapers towered high, their design a fusion of classic cathedrals and sleek modern architecture. The wide streets were clean, filled with magitech vehicles hovering a few inches above the ground, not horse-drawn carriages.
"Oh yeah... this place looks far more modern than the previous city," Devon thought, his hand patting his suit pocket searching for a cigarette.
Maybe this was the difference. Saint Veren's Gate was the face of tourism—deliberately kept ancient and "authentic" to attract visitors seeking the thrill of a classic monster world. But Vesperia... this was where the elite lived. This was where the real money and power resided. Here, comfort and technology were king.
"And I need coffee," he decided.
He walked along the wide sidewalk, observing shop windows displaying spider-silk dresses and blood-crystal jewelry. His stomach growled.
He saw a convenience store on the street corner. The logo was a flirtatiously winking eye.
Devon entered. The door chime rang digitally. The interior was brightly lit, chilled by air conditioning, and the shelves were stocked with colorful packaged goods. It was very similar to minimarkets in his world, only the product contents were a bit... different.
He walked to the beverage cooler.
"Canned O-Negative Blood... Silkworm Juice... Ectoplasm Soda..."
His eyes landed on a navy blue can featuring a picture of a mermaid winking.
"Mermaid Milk Coffee?" Devon picked up the can, weighing it in his hand. "What kind of silly name is this? Do they milk it directly from... ah, never mind. Caffeine is caffeine."
He picked up two onigiri (the filling read: "Spicy Squid Tentacle") and a pack of "Graveyard Mint" chewing gum.
He took his groceries to the counter.
Behind the register stood an old man. He was a Goblin, but unlike the feral goblins in the forest who were filthy and hunched, this Goblin stood upright, wearing a neat flannel shirt and a green apron. His skin was wrinkled dark green, his ears were long with white tufts at the tips, and he wore reading glasses perched on the end of his crooked nose. He gave off a very strong "neighborhood bodega owner" vibe.
The old Goblin looked up as Devon set his items down. His intelligent yellow eyes narrowed behind the glasses. He didn't immediately scan the items. Instead, he stared at Devon.
His gaze swept from the top of Devon's hair, past the small red wings on the sides of his head, down to his thick bangs, his deathly pale skin, down to his suit.
"Hmm..." the Goblin hummed, his voice raspy but friendly. "Your skin is too pale for a normal human, Son. Even for Nocturnus standards."
He pointed to his own temple. "And you have bird wings on your head. But you don't smell like a Harpy."
The Goblin leaned forward slightly, staring straight at Devon's eyes hidden behind his bangs. "And what are you hiding behind those thick bangs? What are you, actually? A new hybrid from an Alchemist's lab?"
Devon just smiled faintly, picking up the gum and toying with it in his fingers.
"Ah, maybe I'm unique," Devon replied casually.
"Hmm... unique?" The Goblin chuckled, a sound like crumpling dry paper. "I like unique people. Ordinary people are boring." He began scanning Devon's items. "So, are you a newcomer? I haven't seen your face around this district."
"Ah, yes. Just arrived," Devon answered briefly.
"Where are you from? Saint Veren? or perhaps from across the sea?" the Goblin asked again, his curiosity typical of a chatty old man. "What is your purpose in Vesperia? Looking for work? Or maybe looking for a wife? The girls here have expensive tastes, you know."
Devon sighed softly. "Just... sightseeing. Looking for fresh air. And maybe a little peace and quiet." The most normal answer he could think of.
"Peace and quiet? In Vesperia?" The Goblin laughed again as he put Devon's groceries into a paper bag. "Good luck, Son. This city never sleeps. The politics here are more complicated than my grandmother's potion recipes."
Devon took the bag. "Thanks. I'll be heading off again right after this."
"Eh? Leaving straight away?" The Goblin looked surprised. "You just arrived! It's a shame not to look around first. The Hanging Gardens District in the city center is beautiful at twilight—well, I mean, during the 'day' hours. And the Museum of Eternal History is worth a visit too."
Devon was about to politely decline and leave, when the shop door suddenly opened.
Tring-trung!
"Dad! I'm home!"
The voice was cheerful, full of energy, and very feminine.
Devon turned his head.
A goblin girl stepped inside. But she was... different. Very different from her wrinkled father.
The girl was probably the same age as Devon (physically). Her skin was a fresh, smooth light green. She had short white hair cut in a stylish bob. Her face was sweet, with a small pointed nose and large yellow eyes that sparkled. She was wearing an academy uniform—a dark blue blazer with a short pleated skirt that showed off her long and... well, quite shapely legs.
She wasn't hunched, wasn't ugly, and didn't look malicious. She was... sexy. Completely different from some depictions of goblins in general fantasy anime that were usually dwarfish and creepy.
This was more like... a goblin waifu?
Devon blinked twice. 'Huh? She's actually pretty...'
The girl put her school bag on the counter and kissed her father's cheek. "Today was so exhausting! The Alchemy Lecturer kept rambling about metal transmutation theory for three hours!"
Then, she noticed Devon's existence. She turned, and her large eyes scanned Devon from top to bottom. Her green cheeks flushed slightly.
"Oh... hello?" she greeted, her voice a little shy but full of curiosity.
"This is our new customer, Elara," said the old Goblin, smiling broadly and showing off his yellow teeth. He patted Devon's shoulder. "He's a newcomer. Just arrived and says he wants to leave immediately. Even though he hasn't had a chance to see the beauty of Vesperia."
Elara's eyes lit up. "Really? That's too bad! Vesperia is huge, you know!"
Suddenly, the old Goblin got an idea. His eyes glinted mischievously.
"Well, Elara! It's quite a coincidence you just got home," her father said. "Why don't you accompany Mister... what was your name again, Son?"
"Devon," Devon answered automatically.
"Mister Devon! Why don't you take Mister Devon here for a walk? Show him the city square, or maybe that cafe you usually go to. It's a pity if he only sees the station and this old shop."
Devon was about to raise his hand to refuse. "Ah, no need to trouble yourself, I—"
"Great idea, Dad!" Elara cut in enthusiastically. She immediately turned to face Devon, her smile blooming wide, revealing small, cute fangs at the corners of her mouth.
She leaned in, a little too close, until Devon could smell the scent of vanilla perfume and old books coming from her.
"Come on, Mister Devon! I know a place that sells the best strawberry blood cake in the whole city! You can't leave before trying it!"
Devon looked at the overly excited goblin girl. Then he looked at her father, who gave a thumbs-up while grinning.
Devon sighed, his shoulders slumping. He didn't have the energy to argue with a hyperactive high school girl. And besides... he didn't really have a definite destination after this anyway.
"Yeah... okay. Fine," he answered resignedly.
"Yesss!" Elara cheered. Without hesitation, she immediately linked her arm with Devon's, hugging it tight. "Let's go! My car is outside!"
Devon was pulled out of the store by the sexy goblin girl, while the old Goblin waved from behind the counter.
"Be careful on the road! Don't come home too late!" he shouted.
Devon could only stare at the gray sky of Vesperia as he was dragged toward an adventure (date?) he hadn't planned.
'My life... is getting weirder by the minute,' he thought, allowing himself to be whisked away.