A young man among the crowd is carrying a large amount of metal scraps on his back, those looked like it came from part of a ship or a factory.
He calls himself "Dusk" and he works on a forge, usually only to assist the blacksmith on certain works.
When he arrived, he lowered down the sraps of metal near the wall. He rolled his neck before sitting on a small chair and wiping his face with a towel.
The middle-aged blacksmith says,"Hot today, am I right?"
Dusk replied, "Yeah."
He leaned back on the wall, catching his breath while sweat still ran down the side of his face, even with a short rest.
The blacksmith spoke again, after a passing moment.
"You've got a strong muscle for lifting all of that, it's quite impressive for a young man."
Dusk stood up and went outside, "It's getting dark now, Mr. Frill, should I go home?"
"Go ahead."
The old man Frill handed him enough money for his essentials.
And with that, he walked away.
The clamor of the streets pressed against him as he walked by.
In his perspective; A cart overturned somewhere ahead, spilling the crates, and people shouted over one another, shoving to grab what they could.
A boy darted past, while carrying something in his chest, running from somebody.
There's a literal murder scene across and an argument broke through. An auction was being held, and slaves were on sale.
He closed his eye when he reached a narrow alley, and the heat felt worse there.
Totally a normal day.
He pulled out a small bread out from his pocket and fed a small humanoid monster living in a broken vent.
It growled as it eats, and Dusk is a bit amused, this was his habit of taking care small invulnerable monsters, about the size of a human's knee.
Sometimes, Dusk wondered why people would brutally kill these harmless type of monsters.
"I won't even be surprised if they ate these creatures, like a psycho they are."
The little creature finished the bread and nuzzled against his boot before disappearing back into the vent. Dusk watched it go, then wiped his hands on his pants.
From the alley, a faint sound of metal clanging echoed. He glanced toward the end, seeing a man struggling with a heavy barrel, slipping on the wet stone.
He sighed and stepped closer, careful not to draw too much attention.
"Need a hand?" he asked.
The man paused, surprised, then nodded quickly. Together, they shifted the barrel, moving it out of the way of a puddle that would have sent it crashing.
Once it was stable, Dusk stepped back. "Watch your step," he said.
The man muttered a thanks and ran off, disappearing into the crowd.
He left the alley afterwards and went