It slowly flowed across the ground, gathering into thin streams before sinking into the cracks between the stones.
Ranar's golden eyes widened.
"The blood..."
She pointed.
"It's moving."
Gunter glanced at the blood.
To him, it was nothing unusual.
"That's nothing to worry about."
He continued walking.
"The city feeds on the blood spilled through conflict. It only craves the blood of fighters."
Ranar stared at him.
"What happens if someone dies without fighting?"
Gunter shrugged.
"If you kill yourself or die like a coward, your blood is left to rot."
He looked back at the streets.
"The city has no use for useless blood."
Ranar felt a chill run through her.
Gunter eventually stopped beside one of the ancient walls.
He reached out and placed his palm against the black stone.
"People here have no reverence for the Goddess."
His eyes became distant.
"But we crave glorious death."
His fingers slowly curled against the ancient wall.
